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The crowd roars, sensing a victory for my opponent. But I can’t let that happen. I can’t go back to my brothers with a loss under my belt.
I summon all the strength I have left and charge forward again, throwing punch after punch with reckless abandon. I can feel blood dripping down my face, but I don’t care.
My opponent is reeling now, unable to withstand my onslaught of blows. I see the fear in his eyes, and I know I have him. I land a final punch to his nose, and he goes down with a sickening thud.
The crowd erupts into a frenzy, cheering and shouting my name. I stand there for a moment, basking in the glory of my victory. But then the pain hits me, and I realise just how badly hurt I am.
I stagger out of the ring, my legs weak and trembling. The doc rushes over to me, a look of concern etched on her face.
“I told you not to kill anyone,” she says, her voice tinged with annoyance.
“I didn’t,” I mutter, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “But I think he’s going to need some medical attention.” I grin at her, a bloody, wild thing, and she tuts at me.
Shaking her head, she hurries off to tend to my fallen opponent. I push my way through the crowd, a few regulars hitting me on the back because I made them very rich tonight.
Near the back of the room, almost out of sight, I spot a familiar face – a girl surrounded by four guys who keep their faces in the shadows. The girl’s expression is easy to read though: she’s devastated. Whoever she is, I’d say that’s probably her boyfriend I just knocked out.
Whatever. Someone always has to get hurt in a fight, it’s the way these things work. And tonight, it wasn’t me.
As soon as I’m out into the night air, I collapse onto a nearby bench, panting heavily and wincing in pain. My ribs ache, my head throbs, and my knuckles are bloody and bruised. But despite all that, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
I needed this fight. I needed to let out my rage and feel alive again. And now, as I sit here catching my breath, I know that I can face whatever comes my way.
Especially saving Malia.
But first, I need to pummel more faces.
When I step back into the fight room, the girl, her bodyguards, and my opponent have gone.
It’s only when I’m on my fourth fight that I realise the girl was Malia’s so-called friend, Summer.
The realisation is such a distraction, that it gets me knocked out.
Twat.
The three of us sit in silence as we wait for Malia to return. As soon as Bhodi pushed her away and took off running, she was out the door after him.
“She’s coming back, right?” Cove eventually asks.
“Yes,” the prof replies tersely.
“I wouldn’t,” Cove mutters.
I shoot him a dirty look. “That’s not helpful.”
He shrugs, and I know he has a point. If someone told me they were going to kill me, you wouldn’t see me for dust. But I trust Malia. She’ll come back. She’ll need explanations. She’ll have questions. And she knows the danger that’s out there still.
When she returns, her face is wet with tears but I can tell she’s trying to hold it together.
“Malia! You came back,” Cove exclaims, getting to his feet like he’s going to race over to him. She holds her hand up to stop him and he halts in his tracks.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious that Bhodi didn’t have a clue, how about the rest of you?” Malia asks.
Cove shakes his head, looking shell-shocked. “I didn’t expect…this. I suspected it wouldn’t be good, but I only got there a split second before the prof told us.”
She turns to me and raises a brow. Her expression is pissed, but I think that’s just a mask to hide her hurt and devastation.
“I’m sorry, Malia. This is a lot to take in.” Her eyes narrow. “Fuck, that sounds shit. I didn’t know…”
