I squint to focus on the television in the lobby of the UFL Training Center. Cameron has a projector set up in the main training room where he’s cleared away most of the mats and equipment, and a catering company has replaced them with tables, chairs, and enough food to feed a small country.
Thankfully, he also has the fight pumping into every television in the place, including the small lobby where I can recline on a comfy couch and watch the fight without an audience.
Killian walks—no, walking is too tame. He prowls through the crowd to the octagon like a man who’s done this a thousand times. I recognize Caleb closest to his side, but everyone else is a stranger to me.
All except Fleur.
I’ve never met the girl, yet I’ve stalked her on every available social media site, which makes me feel like I’ve known her for years. I know she drinks wine, red mostly, that she indulges in reality television, and that she hits a French bakery for chocolate croissants that remind her of home.
Her brother, the tall blond with the light brown eyes is Olivier. He fights in Killian’s weight class and has only lost one fight out of seven. Fleur hasn’t had an official fight yet, but that’s only because the female UFL team hasn’t quite taken off in the UK yet. See. We’re practically best fucking friends.
Killian rips his shirt off and my jaw falls wide open. Holy hell, he’s grown. I mean he’s always been big, but he’s more defined now. His muscles seem to stand out more than before. I growl as the camera shot moves to Hugo Webb as he enters the arena. He dances around and plays to the crowd. What a cocky asshole! I hope Kill destroys him. He points to Killian and laughs, making the crowd erupt in a series of cheers and boos. Blake always told me the fighters with the biggest show have the least amount of talent. I hope he’s right.
The shot goes back to Killian, and my entire body warms upon seeing him. He looks prepared, confident, as if every single day of his life has been in preparation for this moment.
My chest swells with pride. “I’m so happy for you, Kill. You deserve this more than anyone.”
“You know he can’t hear you, right?”
I jump at the sound of Ryder’s voice. His crooked grin and barely concealed laughter make me want to backhand his pretty face. “Of course I do, idiot.”
“You’re talking to a television in a room alone, and I’m the idiot.” He drops down on the couch next to me, his eyes on the screen. “Damn, can you believe he made it?”
“Yes. Absolutely. He wouldn’t give up until he did.”
“I don’t know about that,” he mumbles. When I look over at him, he pulls his eyes from the screen, and I see sadness in them. “He would’ve given it up for you.”
I hurry and look away before Ryder can read me. “No, he wouldn’t have. He’s smarter than that. And besides, I wouldn’t let him.”
The fight commentators go through Killian’s and Hugo’s stats where we learn that they’re nearly perfectly matched in height and weight, but that Hugo has a little longer reach on Kill.
Killian’s expression is cold, and I recognize the look of him being in the zone. Hugo flaps his arms to rile up the crowd, but none of it seems to faze Kill.
“Fuck, you guys beat me to it.” Jonah drops down on a chair close to us, leaning in over his knees to study the television. “Need a little privacy to watch my boy’s first fight. Loud as hell out there and—”
“Shhh!”
Jonah grins at me, popping both dimples. “Guess I’m not the only one.”
“Dammit, you assholes.” Blake drops into a seat opposite Jonah. “Didn’t think anyone would be in here.” He squints at the television. “Killer looks fucking lethal. Hope they have an EMT close by. Something tells me Webb’s gonna need—”
“Oh my God, shhhhhhh!”
Blake’s eyes widen at my outburst and Jonah simply chuckles.
The announcer does his spiel, but I’m deaf to most of what he says because I’m stuck on Killian. He’s shaking his arms out, rolling his head, and staring at Hugo as if he could knock him out with mind power alone.
The ref directs them together and gives them the “fight fair” speech. Killian lifts his fists to touch knuckles, but Hugo tells him to fuck off, which I can see by reading his lips and his pretty obvious hand gesture.
A slow evil grin spreads across Killian’s lips, flashing his black mouth guard, and my heart pounds in my chest, and heat pools between my legs.
He’s deadly and powerful and… I miss him.
With a swipe of the ref’s arm, the fight is on.
“Get him, Killer!” Jonah’s nearly out of his seat, glued to the screen.
Killian remains calm while he and his opponent circle each other. Hugo taunts Kill. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but his lips are flapping. Killian remains focused.
Hugo swings. Kill dodges the hit and goes back to circling.
“He’s waiting for his in,” Blake says.
“Yeah, he could take that clown down, but he’s waiting for an opening to jab.”
Ryder and I share a quick glance, not fully understanding the conversation between Blake and Jonah.
Hugo swings and connects with Killian’s face, but he bounces right back like he’d never been hit.
“Come on, Killer! Take the shot!” Blake’s standing up now.