by Amity Cross
“They fight until someone taps out or is KO’d,” Ash explained. “Those are the only rules.”
“The only rules?” I exclaimed.
He nodded and my stomach twisted, knowing that he did this pretty much every night.
The referee lifted his hand and yelled something, and I turned back to the cage. Then the referee was backing away quickly as the two men faced off.
What followed could only be described as brutal. They grappled one another, fists pounded into flesh, bodies were hurled against the cage and the crowd was screaming for blood the entire time.
I stood to get a better view as the guy Ash had called Goblin was knocked onto his back, Fox zeroing in for the win. Ash curled his arm around my legs, trying to make me sit down again. I knew he was using this as a deterrent, that he didn’t want me to see this, but all it had done was spike my curiosity.
Goblin was punched square in the face, blood erupting from his nose and I couldn’t look away. The next punch landed on his jaw and he turned his head away, spitting blood. Before another punch could connect, he bashed his fist against the mat repeatedly until Fox backed off. He’d tapped out, ending the bout.
Shit. I got that this would be brutal, but…shit.
I sat back down and Ash leaned over and said, “I’ve got time to take you back to Beat, if you want to go.”
I glared at him. “I’m not leaving.”
He shrugged. “I’ve gotta go get ready then.” He held out his hand and I took it without hesitation.
The moment we walked out back into the change rooms, a bevy of women began to circle like predators and I dropped Ash’s hand, feeling one hundred percent inadequate. He’d told me time and time again that he only wanted me, but I couldn’t help the jealousy at seeing another woman’s hand paw at his arm.
The room was full of other fighters in various stages of undress, male and female, along with groupies looking for a quickie with a beefy cashed up fighter. A referee was wandering around talking to various people, a clipboard in his hands and a reckless idea began forming in my mind. A very dangerous idea.
While Ash was distracted with all the silicone, I approached the referee with the biggest death wish I’d ever had in my entire life.
“Are there any openings tonight?” I asked, making the referee look up in surprise.
He looked me up and down and seemed pleased with what he saw. “Yeah, we’ve got an over.”
“I want in. What do I have to do?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Season’s almost to finals. You’ll never get enough points to win.”
“But if I win some fights, I’ll get some money, right?”
“Yeah-”
“Then count me in.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, so you’re one of those fighters, eh?”
“What does that mean?” I scowled.
“You like to fight for the sake of fighting.” I eyed him warily. “You like the thrill,” he added. “The adrenalin and the blood. Can’t say I picked you for one of them.” He nodded toward the group of fighters at the back of the change rooms. “Usually it's the guys who go for that stuff.”
“There’s a first for everything.”
He eyed me again and shrugged. “What’s your name?”
“Ren Miller.”
He tapped his chin and said, “Ren the Reign of Terror Miller. Sounds fuckin’ awesome.”
My eyebrows rose.
“Everyone gets a name in these parts. Not everyone wants their real one flung about.”
That sounded like a peachy keen idea. “Drop it, then.”
“Reign of Terror?”
I began to laugh, not really believing that I was going to go through with it. Ash was going to blow a gasket. “Sounds fucking stupid, but that’ll do it.”
“Done. I’ll come get you when you’re up. Make sure you’re out here.”
“Got it.”
I turned on my heel and froze when I caught Ash staring at me. I sauntered over to him, staring at his naked chest, reading the words of his tattoo again. Rage. Heart. Rebirth. The sentiment echoed deep in my heart.
“What are you doing talking to him?” he asked, eyes dark.
“What, I can’t talk to anyone?”
“No.”
“Eat shit,” I said. “I had some questions.”
“Fuller,” a loud voice called out. “You’re up in two.”
I glanced at the referee who I’d spoken to and he was waving Ash forward. My stomach started to squirm knowing I was about to see my Maverick loose in the cage.
Ash sighed heavily and wrapped an arm around my waist, dipping his head to the crook of my neck. He breathed deeply, the flat of his palm against my stomach. He’d wrapped his hands in white bandages and the only thing I could think of was the fact that in a few minutes they’d be stained red.
He practically hauled me back out into the arena and sat me on the bleachers before he entered the cage. I understood that he was ‘the man’ here, but the moment he crossed the threshold of chain link, he seemed to transform into something else.
The crowd screamed his name, but he didn’t even acknowledge them. For the first time, I began to really understand what he meant about letting himself go. About getting the thing he needed from this place. It was the only way he could sate the anger that lived in his heart.
When his opponent entered the cage, my heart began to hammer erratically in my chest. The guy was a monster, just as ripped as Ash, but he looked a hell of a lot meaner. How could Ash fell that guy? He had skills, but I wasn’t sure about this.
I couldn’t pick who would be hauled out of there in a stretcher and uncertainty prickled all over my skin.
I didn’t have time to throw up, because the referee was talking to the two men, his hand raised between them. Then the whistle blew and it was game on.
Ash’s opponent wasted no time in taking point and landed a fist right into Ash’s forehead, splitting his cut open again. If I was fighting against him, I would’ve gone for the weak spot, too. Blood began to seep from the wound, but it didn’t seem to faze him at all. Ash closed in and uppercutted his fist into the guy’s stomach and when the guy doubled over, Ash’s knee connected to the soft spot underneath the jaw. The impact made his opponents teeth clack together, making me wince.
I hadn’t seen Ash fight since the day Dean had tried to take him on at Beat. Compared to the way he fought now, that day had been nothing. He’d totally let go and any will he had to reign himself in was just gone. He pounded his fists into his opponent again and again, the crowd screaming for blood.
My heart was in my throat, but I didn’t have anything to worry about. That guy was no match for Ash. Not by a long shot.
Ash hooked his leg around the guy’s shin, toppling him over and at the last second, curled his fingers into his hair and shoved. Bone connected with the ground, making a sickening smack that was audible over the hurricane of noise around me. It was a totally illegal move in the real world, but this wasn’t the pros with its rules and regulations. This kind of thing flew here.
The guy tried to get up, leaving a splatter of blood behind, but fell back down. He was dazed and confused as Ash circled like a shark, blood thick in the water.
Fuck, tap out, I thought, my fingers tightening around the bench.
Ash loomed over the guy, fists clenched at his sides, chest heaving. He was wild and feral and my body began to stir in response.
A hand slammed into the mat, desperately trying to tap out and the crowd started pounding their feet into the bleachers. The referee ran in from the side and grasped Ash’s hand, holding it in the air. He allowed it for a moment, before wrenching away, striding for the exit. Coming for me no doubt and my pussy began to clench at the thought.
It should've scared me, the beast that he’d unleashed in that cage, but it had the opposite effect. Ash was the flame and I was the moth.
The referee from before tapped me on the shoulder, brea
king the spell. “You’re up after this, Ms. Terror. Can’t wait to see what you’ve got and neither can they.” He nodded toward the crowd. “Fresh meat always gets the crowd foaming at the mouth.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
“What the fuck was that?”
I spun on my heel and found a mostly naked, sweaty and bleeding Ash standing behind me, a gaggle of fake titted women fawning in the background. For a split second I felt fear course through my veins, but at the sight of all those women trying to get their claws on his dick, I saw red.
“What does it look like?” I glared at him, not caring that the cut over his eyebrow had split open and was bleeding into his eye.
“You’re fighting? Why?”
“I have my reasons,” I hissed, turning to go out back and find a place to stretch and get ready.
Ash grabbed my arm and jerked me back into his chest. “I won’t let you.”
I shoved him away. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Ash.”
“This is why I didn’t want you to come,” he moaned. “I knew you’d…Ren, don’t.”
“Ash, you told me the one thing you’re good at is fighting. Well, guess the fuck what? It’s the only thing I’m good at, too. You can try and stop me tonight, but you won’t stop me forever.”
He reached for me again, but I backed out of the way and shoved through the crowd and into the change rooms. A few curious glances found me as I stripped down to my tank top and undies, glad that I’d worn boy shorts that day. It seemed to be the accepted dress code between the women fighters in this place, so I didn’t feel exposed in the slightest. I snatched up a roll of tape, just as Ash shoved his way into the room.
“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” I hissed at him.
Kneeling before me, he took the tape and grasped my wrist. “It’s been five minutes and you’re already killing me,” he whispered as he began taping up my hands, obviously resigned that he'd lost this round.
“How do you think I felt, watching you take that beating just now?”
He glared at my hands, refusing to meet my eyes. He was pissed at me. “A man should protect his woman from getting hurt.”
My whole body began to tingle. “I’m your woman?”
“Of course you fuckin’ are, Ren. I thought I made myself clear that once I got a taste, I wasn’t letting you go. I can’t.”
“Then you should know that I come with a whole fucking load of willpower, Ash Fuller.”
He laughed, but it never reached his eyes. “You know more of my secrets than anyone else, Ren.”
I bit my tongue. I didn’t know shit about his secrets. He wouldn’t tell me why he got kicked out of pro, he wouldn’t tell me who was on the phone, he wouldn’t tell me anything at all. He just got angry and deep down that’s who Ash Fuller was. Just an angry son of a bitch. I wanted him to prove me wrong.
The ringmaster’s voice boomed over the speaker in the change room, breaking us apart. “It’s time for the woman’s league to have their fifteen minutes of fame.” The crowd roared as Ash and I stared at each other. “Rogue versus our freshest, meanest, meat, Reign of Terror!” Feet thundered in the stands, muffled by the walls around us.
“Reign.” The referee stuck his head in the door. “Get your ass out there now. Two minutes or you forfeit.”
I stood and began walking into the tiny little arena, striding toward the cage. No fear.
“Ren.” Ash grabbed my hand as the crowd caught sight of us and cheered. Sweat was still running down his skin, beading over his tattoo. He looked wild and sexy and I wanted nothing more than to fuck him right then and there, but I had to do this one thing first.
“You heard the man,” I said, nodding at the ringmaster. “Reign of Terror.”
Ash grasped my face in his big paws and said, “Ren, you can ease into this. You don’t have to dive in headfirst.”
I gazed into his green eyes and smiled. “All or nothing, Maverick.” Lifting a taped hand, I ran a finger over his lips. “See you on the other side.”
“Don’t,” Ash pleaded, his fingers curling into the wire mesh as the cage door was shut between us.
I glanced up at him and smiled. I was going to be okay, but the look on his face expressed everything he was feeling and it was something deeper than panic. It was a kind of fear I knew all too well. It was the fear I lived with every single day until Mum died in my arms. It was the fear of losing someone forever.
Ash had nothing to worry about. I was his, even if he didn’t seem to know it yet.
“You're going down, bitch,” the woman who went by Rogue hissed at me.
I shrugged, loosening my shoulders. “We'll see.”
She was a wild, built as fuck Asian woman with long black hair done up in a high ponytail. Her name suited her and I squashed down the nagging voice in the back of my head that was telling me that this was a bad idea. I was shorter than her by a head, but that meant she had to keep her guard lower to compensate. I had enough bounce in my heels to get past if I was quick about it.
Jab. Guard. Feign. Punch.
I could feel Ash's hard glare burning into me from outside the cage. I'd deal with him later, it was my time to live and damned if I was letting a man dictate the terms. I couldn't give a flying fuck how talented he was with his dick.
The ringmaster held up his hand between Rogue and I, readying us for our bout. First one to tap out or be rendered unconscious. I could do that. I wanted to do that. She was so far up her own ass there was a chance that she'd underestimate me and that was the thing I was counting on.
It was my turn to draw blood.
There was a shrill whistle and it was game on.
Chapter 27
Ash
Rogue landed a fist right into Ren's side and my stomach twisted.
I swear I felt her pain as she stumbled and the crowd roared. I was in a bubble of agony watching her fight. I couldn't protect her in the cage and I couldn't stop her from getting hit.
Fucking hell, Ren. Why'd you have to defy me?
She recovered quickly and didn't waste any time lunging with her elbows out. Her leg hooked around Rogue's while she was distracted by the frontal attack and Ren felled her with effortless precision.
All that training with the men in the classes at Beat had paid off. She knew how to take down guys a lot heavier than her and she made it look effortless. My eyes widened as I realized there was a chance she could actually win this thing. Rogue was third on the scoreboard and the season was a few weeks from the championship fight.
My Spitfire was fucking good. I knew she had skill, but that was at Beat where everything was controlled. This was The Underground where control was a dirty word. Rogue was the meanest bitch there ever was and wouldn’t make this easy. Of all the fighters out there, they had to pair my Spitfire with that bitch? Fuck. I shouldn’t have brought her here. I should’ve been strong enough to keep saying no.
Ren fisted her hand into Rogue's top, hauling her half off the ground and let out a roar. Her fist hit the woman right in the temple with a smack that made me wince. Hands flailed wildly, scratching and biting at her legs, but it didn’t seem to bother Ren in the slightest. I knew that look and it wasn’t good. She’d tasted blood…fuck.
Ren’s fist slammed into Rogue's temple a second time and the crowd went bat shit crazy. Spitfire drew back and looked at the white tape on her hands and seemed confused to find it smeared with red. The referee slid onto his knees next to the two women, his hand in the air waiting for Rogue to move, but there was nothing. K-fuckin'-O'd.
I smashed a fist into the chain-link. She'd fucking won. My Spitfire had a heart of fire.
The crowd was going mad, stomping their feet, screaming Reign of Terror. Ren was laughing, shaking her head in disbelief like she didn't think the ref would be holding her hand up. He turned her around, so the crowd could get a look at the woman who'd come out of nowhere and felled one of the top place getters.
God, I felt high on her.
A figure loomed in my peripheral vision and I suppressed a groan. It could only be one person and they'd be here for only one reason - to rain on my fuckin' parade.
“Fuller.”
I felt vomit rising in the back of my throat. “Hammer.”
The last time I saw Hammer was when I was looking down on his bloody pulp of a face. No regrets. I warned him and he didn't listen. He got his ass handed to him on a weekly basis and it was the thrill of my life paying him back. Glaring out the corner of my eye at the six foot six monster, I noticed he was still as ugly without all the swelling and red stuff.
I'd been kicked out of pro, but he forfeited. I wasn't sure which one was better, but at least I didn't chicken out over an injury.
“She's a sweet one,” Hammer growled, nodding at Ren who was talking heatedly with the referee. “How much does a whore like that cost you, Fuller? I'd like to fuck a woman like that. A bitch who can fight.” He scratched his filthy balls.
Red. All I could see was red. “Keep your fuckin' hands off her, Hammer.”
His lips curled into a sneer I wanted to sucker punch right off his stupid face.
“She looks like she'd like it hard.”
Rage flared hot in my stomach and I fisted my hands into the front of his shirt, wrenching him close. “We're not in pro now, asswipe,” I snarled. “You lay one finger on Ren and I will snap you in half.”
“Hey!” One of the referees shoved between us, breaking us up before shit got nasty. “If you guys have got beef with each other, fight it out in the cage. Keep it out of the stands or you'll lose points. Got it?”
Glaring at Hammer, I spat. “Got it.”
I didn't give a shit about the points, I was far enough in front of second place to be free and easy with a couple. Ironically, second place was the dead shit known as Hammer.
He stared me down just as hard and we both knew that when we finally met in the ring for the championship bout, there would be no second chances. We'd beat each other within an inch of our lives. The Underground was a place where lives could, and had been, snuffed out.