“Lion killer! Get ’em in a lion killer!”
The hollered instructions of my team would usually push me, but tonight they’re just words. The smell of blood and sweat, the rush of adrenaline from the fight, the pain of every hit—the things that would get me fired up before now have zero effect.
I squeeze my legs together, locking Reece in a heel hook. “Tap.”
Reece thrashes in my hold. “Fuck . . . you.” He kicks at my thigh with his free leg.
“You got ’em, T!”
His garbled curses filter though the shouted encouragement from my corner.
I’m weak. Tired. My muscles shake and scream with fatigue. But I won’t lose.
The ref yells. End of a round.
I release him, jump up, and head to my corner. The crowd roars, but it’s static in my ears. My head throbs. I drop onto the stool, trying to hide my exhaustion. As fucked as my head is, I won’t let my team down. I’d rather die out there than lose this fight.
“Look at me.” My cutman is crouched in front of me, wiping down my face. “Small cut.” He presses an eye iron to my cheek while swabbing a cut above my eye.
For the first time ever, I don’t feel the pain. I’m detached, empty, immune to its seduction.
“He’s getting some good shots in.” Owen’s at my side, yelling close to my ear to be heard over the crowd.
I try to focus on his words.
“His left leg is weak.
Jonah’s there, squatting in front of me, listening to Owen. He nods, his lips move, but I’m deaf to his words.
My cutman tilts my head back. I squint against the bright lights above the octagon. My vision goes spotty. I pull from his hold on my chin and blink. My head spins. The faces around me go blurry, twisting and stretching. I rub my eyes. How hard did I get hit?
I look into the eyes of my cutman. He’s talking, asking if I’m okay. His expression morphs into visions, faces of men, different ages and ethnicities. I slam my eyes shut as the pictures flash behind my eyes. My teeth crash together, and I force back the images. God, there were so many of them. I shake my head.
I need to stay in the fight.
“Rex, man. Talk to us.” Jonah’s hand is on my shoulder. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good.” My voice is robotic, but they respond and seem convinced.
I try like hell to focus on Owen’s voice. Concentrate.
“. . . that side-angle kick. Take him down for a submission.”
Right. I can do that. I nod. Submission.
That’s all those sick-fucks wanted from me. My submission. I was a child, a desperate kid with no one to protect him. They knew that and used it to get what they wanted. I clench my hands; my pulse pounds in my ears.
“. . . you’re death walkin’ out there.” Jonah’s voice is at my ear. “We see it; his camp sure as shit sees it.”
Someone needs to pay, take the beating for the years I was raped, molested, manipulated. I mentally bind all the faces in my head and wrap them up with threads of fear, hopelessness, and shame. I ball up my anger and cram in the feelings of betrayal over Mac’s confession: the men, her family . . . her. Demons that do the devil’s work. All of them.
I stare at Reece across the octagon, projecting what’s in my head, coiling in my chest, eating away at my insides. I put all of it on him.
He’ll pay. Tonight. This fight. I’ll deliver him the beating as the punishment for my past.
The sound of the bell, and the ref motions for us to meet in the middle.
Owen’s hand firmly grips my shoulder. “Make it happen. You got this.”
The cutman swipes Vaseline over my eyebrow and jumps out of the way. The arena erupts, igniting the air that surrounds me with the electricity of their enthusiasm.
But my eyes are locked on my opponent. All of the reasons why I started fighting become insignificant. Everything I’ve been through comes to one moment, this moment.
This is my chance to unleash what I’ve been holding back, release the feelings I locked up as a kid and kept hidden so well that I couldn’t even fucking remember.
It’s time to unload the burden, and what better place to do it than in the octagon?
“Fight!”
*
Mac
He’s circling the octagon, his hands raised and a small cut above his eye. My breath hitches, and I cover my mouth as a whimper falls from my lips.
He’s never looked so beautiful. I hadn’t realized how much I missed just seeing him until this moment. His opponent throws a punch. Rex avoids it and follows up with a kick, which sends the guy to the ground. I’m mesmerized, watching this deadly dance between two men that I pray doesn’t end in him getting hurt.