She’s beautiful in a way that makes men ruin themselves willingly, but she doesn’t look happy to be here. No fake smile tonight. No perfect trophy-girl act. She looks trapped.
Then Brayden grabs her chin roughly and forces her attention toward him. Rage detonates through me instantly, but I step into the cage as the door slams shut behind me with a loud clang.
The crowd chants my name.
“GHOST! GHOST! GHOST!”
Brayden climbs into the cage across from me wearing designer athletic shorts like this is some fucking country club boxing match.
Cocky grin. Pretty face. Soft hands.
I’m going to enjoy ruining him.
The announcer, which is usually me, but tonight Braxton handles it, shouts into the mic while bets fly through the crowd. Brayden barely even glances at me.
Big mistake. Because he still doesn’t know who I am.
The bell rings, and I hit him so hard his entire body lifts off the mat. I grin as the crowd goes wild. The crack of my fist against his jaw echoes through the Dungeon like a gunshot. He stumbles sideways, crashing into the cage wall with a dazed look on his pretty-boy face like no one has ever hit him before. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth while shock flashes across his features.
Good. I want him scared.
“You motherfucker!” he snarls, charging at me recklessly. His punch whistles past my face.
So fucking sloppy.He’s letting his emotions fuel him.Fucking amateur.
I duck beneath it and drive my fist straight into his ribs hard enough to crack something. He grunts, folding slightly, before I grab the back of his neck and slam my knee into his face.
Blood sprays across the mat and the crowd goes insane.
“GET HIM, GHOST!”
“FUCK HIM UP!”
Brayden spits blood onto the floor and comes back swinging harder this time.Angrier. Still a fucking idiot.
He lands a hook across my cheekbone hard enough to snap my head sideways. Pain instantly laces my mouth where my teeth sliced my inner lip.
For one second, the entire cage goes silent between us.
Then I smile. A slow, vicious smile stained red with blood.
Brayden’s confidence flickers, because now he understands something important.
I like this shit. Prison taught me pain is temporary. Fear is what kills you. And Brayden Augustine has never truly been afraid a day in his pampered fucking life.
I rush him before he can recover. My fist buries into his stomach once. Twice. Three times, making him wheeze while stumbling backwards, but I don’t let him breathe.
Then I grab his expensive shorts and yank him towards me before driving my elbow straight into his nose. The crunch of his bone is sickening yet thrilling as blood gushes over his mouth and down his chin.
The crowd loses their fucking minds as he crashes to the mat clutching his face while I stalk toward him slowly, adrenaline roaring through my veins. All I can see is Ophelia crying over him at dinner. Flinching beneath his touch. Forcing fake smiles while this prick calls her name.
“GET UP, AUGUSTINE!” someone screams, and I laugh as rage sharpens every bone in my body.
Brayden spits blood on the mat once again and forces himself upright.Credit where it’s due… the asshole doesn’t quit easily.
“You think you’re tough?” he pants. “You’re just another criminal piece of shit,” he heaves, and I laugh darkly.
“You have no fucking idea who I am,” I taunt, and he swings wildly again. I let him hit me this time. One punch. Then another.
