Page 65 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

My heart stopped.

It took too long for my brain to put together his face and the fact I knew it so well it felt etched into my soul.

Because he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be in this crowd, let alone in that ring.

A cry slipped from my lips, and without even thinking about what I was doing, I pushed through the crowd, slipping through the tightly packed men easier because I was so much smaller.

I lost Lynx quickly, and him shouting my name disintegrated into the roar of the crowd as Dax’s opponent threw the first punch.

He missed, but the second one connected. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rolled my stomach, the way morning sickness had for the first few weeks of my pregnancy. Urgency lit up inside me, and I fought my way to the front of the swarm of men around me, giving myself a front-row view of Dax taking three fast punches, two to his midsection, and one straight across the face.

I gripped the metal cage so hard my knuckles turned white.

I wanted to call out to him. Wanted to shout his name, but no sound would come out.

Despite the blows he’d taken, Dax was the next to strike, kicking out hard and fast, a viperlike kick that caught the other man in the ribs. The next two punches were Dax’s, connecting with the man’s stomach and cheek. Then more, each punch landing so solidly it sent his opponent’s sweat flying through the air.

Black Shorts gave back just as good as he got, and soon the two of them were trading blow for blow.

But it was clear to me, and to the crowd, who the better fighter was.

Dax moved faster. Hit harder. Around me, the crowd began chanting his name, excitement building because they knew a knockout was coming. The crowd surged behind me, forcing me into the metal of the makeshift cage so hard I was sure it would be imprinted on my cheek.

More and more people swarmed, the pressure around me building.

The groan of metal under strain came from somewhere above my head.

A bolt snapped.

“It’s collapsing!” someone shouted.

I could barely breathe from the crush of the men around me.

In the ring, the two men stopped fighting, both spinning around to take in the straining metal they were enclosed by.

Dax’s gaze met mine. Slid past. Then came straight back. “Nyah?”

Another bolt snapped, and someone screamed.

The cage came down, the huge, heavy metal falling forward, taking me with it. I hit the floor, my knees and wrists taking all the impact. Men fell around me, onto me, and chaos erupted in the dim light of the room as people rushed about, trying to get away from the metal bars crashing down around us.

I screamed, trying to cover my head and my stomach all at once, the shouts around me sharp in my ears and fueling my panic.

I needed to get up. Get on my feet, or I was going to be crushed in a stampede of men who didn’t care about anything in that moment, other than getting away from the heavy metal cage falling apart.

Except I couldn’t get up. There were too many people, too much noise. I tried but I was pushed back down over and over.

And through it all, I just kept looking for him. For Dax. My sweet-hearted artist, who should have never been in that cage to begin with.

Someone’s boot caught the side of my head, and my vision swam. Everything was blurry, and I choked on dirt and dust stirred up in the air.

And all I could think about was how just a few weeks ago, this never would have happened. I would have spent my Friday night wrapped up in Dax’s arms, safe in his bed in the shitty house he kept, but the happiest girl in the world.

And now I was here, tears streaming down my face, screaming for him amongst a crowd of men who cared so little for me that they would mow me down to save themselves.

“Nyah!”

I was almost sure I was imagining his voice. I’d caught a kick to the head that had me so foggy I thought he’d managed to get to me.