Page 81 of Damián

By day six of absolute radio silence, I am ready to murder someone. And what better way to burn off all this pent-up anger than to throw punches at a guy who actually knows how to hit back?

And that’s exactly how I ended up inside the ring at Grit & Grind, the MMA gym owned by former world champion and Knox’s trainer, Holden Bardot.

Right now, I am fighting Knox.…or, more accurately, I am getting my ass kicked by Knox.

“Keep your guard up, Damián!” Holden yells from his corner of the mat, his dark green eyes glaring at me in disapproval.

I slip under Knox’s right hook, pivoting on my back foot, and drive a left jab straight into his ribs. He grunts, absorbing the blow like it’s nothing, and immediately fires back with a cross that I barely manage to block with my forearm.

“You’re sloppy today.” Knox taunts, circling me.

He bounces lightly on his feet, way too fast for a man his size.

“What’s got you so riled up?”

“Nothing,” I snap, parrying his next jab.

“Bullshit. How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling? I’m sorry, I thought we made plans to train, not to have some tea time and talk about our feelings.”

Knox fakes a hook and drives a blow directly into my stomach. It knocks the wind out of me, but I grit my teeth and stay on my feet.

“Great job, Knox!” Holden claps, and Knox grins.

Freaking teacher’s pet…

“Either you magically suck at fighting,” says Knox, his green eyes studying me. “Or something is going on.”

“It’s been six days,” I finally yell, throwing a rapid one-two combination at his head that he blocks with his gigantic forearms.

“Six days since what? Since you’ve been on the field? Don’t tell me you’re already getting impatient.”

“Impatient? Porfavor… I’m not Björn.”

“Then?”

“…Six days, and absolutely no word from Oliver… he hasn’t texted me yet.”

Knox’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, and he drops his guard for a fraction of a second. I use this moment to my advantage.

I step into his space and punch him right in the jaw. Knox stumbles back, shaking his head.

He is so shocked, he even lowers his fists, ignoring the red mark on his cheek.

“Wait. Seriously? You, Damián Soto, are bothered that a guy hasn’t texted you in a couple of days?”

“What?! No!… Well, sort of. Yes…”

“I thought you guys were just faking it.”

“We are. But this is a highly sensitive mission. Like, what the fuck? He should be taking this seriously.”

“It’s not like you to be this affected by a target.”

“I’m not affected by anyone.” I rub my stubble with both hands, trying to remove the stress that’s been building up. “But this is Elijah West we are dealing with… and now Oliver is going completely dark? This could be dangerous.”

“Relax. Oliver has been surviving that snake pit of a family for years. If he isn’t reaching out, there must be a reason for it.” Knox pauses, a teasing grin spreading across his stupid face. “That… or he just got bored with you.”