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My brothers always have my back but especially Jumper and Gear so the fact that he’s fighting me on this right now makes me pause. As pissed as I am, as worried as I am, I don’t really have beef with the man in front of me.
“Fine,” I growl. I go in there, knock this asshole out as fast as I fucking can and then scour this whole goddamn town until I have my girl back in my arms. He nods and grabs my arms, checking the tape on my hands.
Lennon.
Do what I need to do to get to Lennon.
“Today’s the day, Hyde,” my opponent calls as he struts over to the ring and begins climbing the stairs. “You’re going to be on your ass.”
Fat fucking chance.
Not when he’s the thing standing between me and my girl.
The roar of the crowd fades to the background as a stillness washes over me. My gaze narrows in on the man taunting me.
There he is.
Hyde.
“Let’s go, brother,” Gear says, his voice muffled behind the steady beating of my heart and I walk over to the ring, ready to get this over with. Arnie is saying something as I step into the cage but my focus is on the threat in front of me. I don’t have to think like this, don’t have to feel.
Hyde just sees what needs to be done and he fucking handles it without an ounce of remorse or guilt.
Then, Arnie steps out of the ring and closes the door of the cage behind him. As soon as he’s back on the ground, the fight begins. My opponent circles the ring in front of me and I mirror his movements, slow and controlled. He’s looking for a moment to strike but he won’t find it unless I want him to.
Most fighters have a tell or a signature move. Something that gives them away. Some get so comfortable using the same sequence again and again that all you have to do is watch them fight once to know how to beat them. My real power in the ring isn’t my fists or my speed or my instincts.
It’s my ability to watch them.
To catalogue every movement they make and know what it means. From the time I was a kid, I was built for this shit. No one will ever beat me because no one else knows what it’s like to have to watch your piece of shit father’s every move so you don’t get hit.
The fingers on my opponents left hand twitch.
I grin.
There it is.
He lunges left and I dodge right, landing a fist to his face as I use my leg to sweep him off his feet. He lands on the mat with a thud and a wheeze but it doesn’t last long. Jumping back to his feet, he squares off against me again and we begin circling each other.
The crowd is thunderous.
My heart is hammering.
But there is only one thing I can hear.
Lennon.
She is the one and only priority right now and I need to end this so I can go find her.
The fingers on his right hand twitch but his eyes cut left.
Gotcha, fucker.
He splits to the left again, almost lazily, and I throw every ounce of force I can into my punch. It hits him square in the nose and a crunch fills my ears.
Broken, for sure.
He drops.
