The crowd buzzed as I appeared, and they parted to let me through, their eyes burning into my skin. Maverick was back.
Stepping into the cage, I was illuminated in light, the heat from the bulbs warming my skin. I wore nothing but a pair of black shorts, my tattoo like a second skin across my chest, and my hands were wrapped tightly with bright red bandages. Red like blood. Red like the love that I’d lost. Red like rage.
Max stood beside me and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Maverick, Steel. Steel, Maverick,” he said, nodding to my opponent before he turned and began to announce us to the crowd.
Staring at Steel for the first time as he toed the line, I sized him up. He was young, maybe about twenty-five, his muscles were well defined, he had a few scars and fresh bruises, but most guys around here did. He looked like a career fighter—he took care of himself—but like Max said, he was fresh. I could smell his desperate need to prove himself, and I made a bet that was what was tripping him up. I could let him get a couple of punches in and maybe a throw to boost the kid’s confidence, or I could just wipe the floor with his ass.
“Maverick,” Steel said with a nod.
I narrowed my eyes and grunted. I didn’t want to play around with pleasantries.
Max held his hand up between us. “You know the rules,” he said. “Give ’em a good show.”
Then his hand was gone, and Steel lunged. He was quick off the mark, I’ll give him that one, but my reaction was instantaneous. His right fist flew high, going for my temple, but I ducked and propelled myself forward. My shoulder smashed into his chest, and he was forced back and to the side. For a split second, Steel was at my back, but he was still off balance, so I twisted and kicked.
My shin slammed into his stomach, and the crowd roared as he fell flat on his back, but then he swept his foot, and I was falling hard. Pain spiked through my ass and up my spine as I landed, and he was on top of me, his fist raised back to punch. That was his free pass, the little fucker.
Bucking underneath him, I lunged upward, grasping his shoulders, and pushed, knocking Steel off me. Scrambling onto my knees, I followed him over and brought my fist down onto his face. The impact jarred up my arm, and the familiar burn of adrenaline began to settle into my veins. It felt good. It felt so fucking good.
Steel kicked underneath me, but I had him pinned. The beast was unleashed, and there was no stopping him. I punched him again, and the crowd roared their appreciation, feeding the animal.
With a roar, he shoved me hard. I fell to the side, and a moment later, his foot was colliding with my stomach. Curling in on myself, I reached out, grabbed his ankle and yanked. Steel fell, his head cracking on the concrete, and I was on him.
My fist smashed into his temple, and he cried out in pain. I had him. It was over so fast, but I had him. I raised my fist and hit him again, but he still moaned like a little fucker as his hands grabbed at me, but he couldn’t get any purchase. There was blood everywhere, but he didn’t tap out. I hit him again, but he still didn’t tap. He tried to fight. I hit him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I smashed my fist into his face, and the rage was gone. This was what calmed the beast? Inflicting pain? Was he right all along? I paused mid-punch and blinked hard.
Steel spat blood on the floor, his eyes rolling back.
“Get him the fuck off him!” I heard someone yelling in the background, but I was already stumbling to my feet as arms hooked around me, hauling me across the cage.
Shaking them off, I fisted my hands into my hair, my heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst from my chest. The crowd surged against the cage, the chain link rattling, and the door opened.
Turning, I stared straight into the eyes of my greatest love, and all I saw was horror. Horror at the thing I’d let myself become.
Spitfire.
A tear trailed down her cheek, and the world dropped away until it was only me, her and bitter disappointment.
Once a beast, always a beast.
Eighteen
Ren
I thought I knew all about heartbreak.
Turned out I didn’t know a fucking thing until I saw Ash standing in the middle of that cage, the beast inside of him in full control.
Not an hour before, I picked myself up off the floor of our apartment and went to the one place I knew he would’ve gone. The one place he could sate his anger—the anger I awoke in him—without mercy. I drove to The Underground to stop him from imploding, but it was already too late.
He stood in the center of the cage, covered in sweat, blood and tears, and my heart broke. It shattered, cracked, disintegrated and went up in flames.
He was better than that, he was stronger…but it had been my actions that pushed him over the edge. I’d dismissed marriage as a joke, pushed him to bare his secrets, pressuring him relentlessly to talk… I allowed Caleb to get close to me the moment Ash was most vulnerable, and for that, I couldn’t apologize enough. I was as much at fault in this as he was. We’d both pushed as hard as we could, and we’d both broke under the pressure.
My gaze dropped from Ash’s to the fighter on the ground. He was moaning, trying to move his arms and get up, but his limbs flopped uselessly. Fuck. I was jostled as some men with a spinal board rushed past, and the crowd surged, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. Security was trying to keep things under control, but the situation was fast getting out of hand.
Shoving forward, I reached desperately for Ash’s hand. I had to get him out of here.
He stared at me, dazed and confused, his expression betraying how totally adrift he was. I was pushed from behind, and I smashed into his chest, my hand curling around his. Instantly, he awoke from his trance and wrapped his arm around my back. Using his body to protect me from the crowd, he shoved his way through the throng like a colossus smashing through a solid wall of rock.
He was broken and raw, a hot mess of emotion, lost in an ocean of his own despair.
He’d always filled my life to the brim with love and laughter, but in this moment, he consumed everything. Ash Fuller burned brightly without end.
We broke through the crowd and were let through to the fighter-only area by security. The door boomed closed behind us, and we were alone in the hallway, but it wasn’t alone enough for Ash, who dragged me along with him as he pushed through another door.
We were in a storeroom of some kind, and the irony wasn’t lost on me one iota. Making sure the door was closed, I pressed my back against it and cast my gaze over Ash.
He began to pace, fisting his hands into his hair. The wraps over his knuckles were torn and bloodied, and a cut on his face was bleeding down his forehead and across his cheek. He glistened with anguish, blood and sweat, his entire body coiled tight.
“He was right, he was right, he was right,” he wailed, fisting his hands into his hair again. “What have I done?”
He grabbed hold of the closest thing he could find, which was a box, and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall, exploding with a crack, and glass tinkled to the floor.
“Ash!” I cried out, launching myself at him, right into the path of the beast once more.
“I killed him.” His eyes were full of tears as he drowned in his despair.
“No,” I murmured, holding his bloodstained face in my hands. I wasn’t sure if it was just his blood that coated his face or the other guy’s as well, but I looked past it and into his eyes. “They’re taking him to hospital. He’ll be okay.”
I didn’t know if they’d get the fighter there in time, or how seriously he was hurt, or even if he would make it once everything was said and done, but right now, I had to get Ash back from the edge. If he fell any further than he had… I was terrified he’d never come back at all.