by Leah Holt
“Sarcasm, my favorite. But... I think you'll enjoy this one.” Winking, he strolled off towards his throne to watch the game.
The crashing of flesh against bone ricocheted behind the standing mass in front of me. I couldn't see what was going on, the fight had moved to the floor.
The sudden bellow from the crowd, and ding of the bell, signaled the fight was over. Titus stood, Gavel did not. His limp body dragged to the back by the aid of other fighters.
According to the guys at the bar waiting for the next fight to begin, he had been choked out; suffocated until his eyes rolled back in his skull, and he finally passed out, hopefully.
You never really knew the true end result when someone was dragged off, especially if they never came back to fight again.
There was always the chance they got frightened, or they couldn't take it anymore. Then there was the obvious... In that dirty ring they took their final breath as their heart seized to beat.
I hated thinking about that. I was certain we had lost our fair share of fighters over the years. Honestly, it baffled me that my dad was still a free man.
But, he had his fingers dipped in several different pockets. A payoff here, a bribe there; whatever it took to keep this place open, and out of the wrong person's eye.
The bell went off, and the next fight had started. Four finger Frankie verses Hugo. These men were dirty fighters. Frankie had lost a digit during a previous fight, he stuck his hand into the other guys mouth trying to break his jaw, and lost his finger instead.
Hugo, he was a massive wall of muscle and grit. A mouth full of broken teeth, scars crisscrossing the flesh of his face. When he stepped into the ring it always looked like he was smiling, and by the way he fought... He was more than happy to be there.
There was no waiting, or sizing up the other opponent, their bodies collided in one giant crash.
I didn't want to watch, I tried to never watch. Turning my eye to the room, I studied the engorged faces of the observers. Men were drooling and hollering, fists flew through the air. Against the back entrance, a figure caught my eye. He was hard to make out, standing in the shadows.
Who is that? Why isn't he up close, barking along side the other assholes?
His arms were crossed tight, shoulder leaning against the wall. Despite the dark mask across his face, his eyes glowed. The bright shine flickered as they darted between the fighters. A hand fell across his hair, brushing it from his view.
My father stepped off his throne, and made his way through the crowd. As he approached the man, he held his hand out in gesture.
Was he a new bidder? A guy with deep pockets ready to drop thousands in bets?
My father never stepped off his seat unless the man was important, and by the grin on his face, this man held weight.
The two walked side by side. My father's hands motioned as he spoke, pointing around the ring towards the fighters. Reaching the bright lights of the circle, my heart stopped, breathing slowing to a mere gasp.
Quinn.
No! Fuck! Fuck!
What the hell is he thinking?
He shouldn't be here, this place will eat him alive. Kill him over and over without mercy.
My grip loosened around the glass, letting it slip to the floor. Shattering against the hard cement, small splinters flew up, hitting my ankles like the wisps of a hot flame. I couldn't move, couldn't think, my stomach was spinning with butterflies and acid.
I wanted to see him again, the thought of laying my eyes on his face was exciting. But I didn't want to see him here, mingling with my father like it was a fucking business meeting.
Seeing him here, talking with my father, it made me sick.
My dad's face turned my way, eyes smiling the most deceptive stare. The grin he held across his cheeks was false and unwelcoming.
My surprise, this was my surprise?
Mother fucker!
Pushing their way through the crowd, Quinn held his expression on me. A slight smirk tugged on his lips, hands shoving into his pockets.
The desire to feel him flooded my soul, my panties warming between my thighs, prickles buzzing across my neck. He looked so hot in his tight blue shirt, so firm and strong. The fabric spread across his chest, outlining the hard ripple of his stomach flexing beneath.
“Cadence, look who came to visit.” The devilish tone filled my body, my father's voice piercing my ears, and stabbing my lungs. He had his tricks, he never did anything without an underlying motive.
This was one of those times. He was playing a game, a game with Quinn, and a game with me. And he knew it, he felt it, he reveled in it.
Pursing my lips, I said, “What are you doing here?” Both hands gripped the edge of the bar, squeezing tightly.
Quinn shot me a crooked glance. “What? I can't come and visit?”
“You know what I mean. Are you under contract now?”
I didn't want him here, I didn't want him to fight for my father. He would be under my dad's control, his force would be owned.
And for me, his hands would never grace my skin again.
Not a single chance of having him to myself, it wasn't allowed. A rule that I needed to follow, needed to obey.
My father cut in. “Whoa, Cadence. I invited him to come and watch. He has potential, and we both know that.” He lifted his hand and patted Quinn's shoulder. “Quinn, watch some fights, think about what I said. I'll find you later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ring to run.” Pulling a cigar from his pocket, he lit the end, and strolled off.
Staring at Quinn, anger and rage filled my gut. I wanted him for myself, needed him just for me.
It pained me to think he wanted to be here, wanted to see what this place was all about. If he didn't, he wouldn't have accepted my father's invitation.
“So, you're thinking about fighting?” I said, hands resting against my hips.
“I didn't say that,” he said, eyes running over my body, watching my breasts as they rose from the heat in my lungs.
“Then what did you come here for?” My arms pulled up, trying to cover my chest. The effort was fruitless, it only pushed my breasts higher, the light pink flesh spilled out over the seam.
His eyes remained firm, hand dropping to shift his cock. I wanted him to bend me over the bar, fuck me till I couldn't feel my legs. My skin heated from head to toe, while ice cold sweat hardened my veins.
He was everything I needed, everything I wanted... And everything I wasn't supposed to have.
Quinn's tongue ran across his bottom lip, eyes lingering over my lips before meeting mine. “You weren't in the bar when I left the yesterday. Which by the way, thanks for the heads up, the meeting wasn't for a 'thank you'.” Wrinkles formed across his forehead as he clicked his tongue.
The muscle moved up and down, hitting the roof of his mouth, and rolling forward. My body flooded like a live wire, ready to burst. His tongue teased me, enticing my body to let it fall over my sex, slip around the folds and pluck at my needy button.
I had to force the heat away, shove it to the side and bring myself back into reality. He was here to watch, to observe, and if my father had his way...
Become one of his soldiers.
“Sorry, my dad-”
Cutting me off, his hand shifted in the air. “No, I get it, don't worry.” His fingertips came up and slid down his jaw.
“Are you going to consider my dad's offer?” I asked, worry flooding my expression. My brows turned up, lips thin and tight.
“Well, it got me next to you again. That in itself is a bonus to me.”
“No.” I snapped. “No, don't use me in any of this. My father isn't the man you might think he is. He doesn't care about you or how well you fight. It's only about him, it's always about him.” The tears started to well up, but I pulled them back, holding it in.
I don't cry.
Not any more.
The strength of Quinn's hands fell around my wrists, pulling me into the bar. He stared into my eyes,
leaning in as close as he could. His cologne curled up through the air, hitting my senses. A surge of chills climbed my spine, goosebumps mimicking the electricity crawling over my skin.
The warmth of his lips hovered beside my cheek, a soft whisper fluttering into my ear. “I only came here hoping to see you.”
I wanted to grab his chiseled jaw, grip his hair and kiss him. He was everything I tried to run from, and everything I fucking wanted.
His fingers stroked my hair, my face falling in closer, all control being lost in his touch. Swiftly, I turned my head away, forcing space between us. The roar of the crowd pulled me back into reality, into where I was.
From the corner of my eye, the fire of my fathers black stare burned into my soul. He sat, rolling his fingers together, face still as stone.
Shit. We're too close. Did he see him touch me?
Fuck, if he saw that...
Instinctively, I lurched back. Quinn's lip tugged to one side, a light chuckle rolling off his tongue.
Shifting against the bar, he turned towards the ring. As he watched the fighters, a seriousness fell over his face. His body tensed, each ridge of muscle bulged beneath the fabric.
“So, are you going to take my fathers offer?” Dipping towards the floor, I swept the broken glass into a pan. My question was met by silence. Standing and dumping the debris into the trash I asked, “Well?”
He wouldn't look at me, his mind was someplace else, eyes darting between the fighters, chest lifting heavy with each breath.
A screech from the microphone shot through the dirty underground room. My head jerked towards the ring, and there was the Macro.
What is he doing?
He only talks before the first fight. Why is he out there now?
Lifting his hand to silence the crowd, his glare froze on Quinn. “So, tonight I have a special treat for all of you. We have a special fight, a newcomer. There are no bets on this one, it's a judge match. Let's see how this new guy stands up to one of our own.”
Quinn's back went stiff, his muscles pulsing, eyes narrowing towards my father.
My heart sank, falling into the pit of acid that was tearing through my stomach. I knew there was a reason my dad had invited him. He's conniving, this had been part of his plan all along.
Throw Quinn to the wolves, see if he can take it.
A devilish laugh echoed through the microphone, my father's head turning to the side. Steel, one of the top fighters, walked into the ring. His arms came up, hands wrapped in black tape. Releasing a loud grunt, the room erupted into cheers.
Every face looked around, waiting to see who was stepping in with him. A new fighter always fueled the masses, energy charged through the room.
My father held his hand out. “Come on out here, you know who you are. Give these people what they want.” His lips were sharp as a blade, a hint of his teeth shining through.
Reaching my arm out, I pierced Quinn's shoulder with my nails. “Don't, you don't need to.” Fear stretched from behind my words, my eyes glazing over.
His lip snarled, back snapping straight. “I have to, he called me out.” Both of his hands drew deep into his hair, raking the roots.
“No, you don't. Fuck him, Quinn. You can't get in there, you're not even ready.” My chest pounded, ribs cracking as they were pushed to their limit.
His movements never flinched, he stood strong, concrete was the base he was built from. Inhaling a deep, ominous breath, his fingers intertwined, cracking the knuckles, head tilting side to side.
The mass spread, a gorge emerged for him to cross. The Macro stood, face shining like a diamond under the lights, teeth bared.
Clutching my chest, the pounding of my heart numbed the screeching. Silence filled the space between my ears and my thoughts.
“Don't worry, Doll, I'm always ready.” Pressing forward, he walked on air. His form was light as he weightlessly glided through the crowd.
Chapter Seven
Quinn
The Macro had basically twisted his hand around my balls, forcing me to do what I had walked away from years ago. The blood boiled inside my veins, burning to break the surface.
How dare he challenge me?
I had come here to see Cadence, she had been the only reason I stepped through those doors.
Her father had offered to pay me; and as much as I could use the money, it wasn't an option. I made a promise to never step back into the ring. A promise I made to a friend, a best friend.
And now I felt the feral need to stand my ground, show that I'm not weak, I'm not a pussy who's just going to close his eyes and look the other way.
But this changed everything. I'm not a coward, I won't back down from a challenge.
That's one of my biggest flaws. I'm not going to run with my tail between my legs, hide in the corner and hope I can sneak away unscathed.
Maybe it was pure testosterone that drove the crazy side, or maybe I was just too proud to back down. I had avoided the ring completely, never stepping foot inside the arena. Fighting had been more than just a hobby, it ran through me to the bones.
And now I was on a war path, demanding respect. He wanted to call me out, see what I could handle...
I hope he's not throwing another top guy at me, because then he'll be down by two.
He has no idea who he's dealing with.
This man might run the Ground Game, he might have control over his fighters, but I'm not his fucking puppet.
I'll never be under his grasp, I decided my own fate.
The crowd surged with energy as I walked towards the ring. People barked in my direction, spit flying across with the screams.
Louis bared his teeth, a shit-eating grin sitting on his face like the mad mask of the Joker.
If I ever get the chance, I'm going to knock that fucking smile so far down his throat, he'll be tasting his own ass.
He wasn't a man, he was a cruel, lifeless beast who didn't deserve to breath the same air as his daughter. I only needed to meet him once to see that. From the first words that seethed through his lips, I knew he ran on nothing but power.
It was hard to believe a woman of her beauty was born from the same seed, and shared the same blood that spread through his body.
I'm going to make sure she knows how special she is, how fucking sexy she is.
Because I was man who knew when a woman needed to hear that she was beautiful, and when to call her sexy. My cock would make sure every inch of her body trembled just knowing she was wanted.
I wasn't going to look like a scared puppy dog and reject this taunt. Cadence needed to know her father couldn't scare me. There was a hint of fear that seemed to shine through her glossy eyes when her father was near her. I didn't like it, and it made taking this challenge a bit easier.
Nothing would make me run from this woman. No man, no matter how high on the food chain, could ever make me back down. When I decide I want something, that's it; it's mine.
And Cadence had been claimed.
The ring was small, barely raising four inches off the floor. It reeked of sweat and blood, the metallic taste of iron fell over my tongue as I inhaled through my mouth.
There's been a lot of blood spilled here.
Slipping through the ropes, I stepped in close to the Macro. “This fight, doesn't mean shit. This doesn't mean I work for you. For your sake, I hope this asshole fights better than your last bitch.” Clenching my fists, sweat dripped off my knuckles and plopped to the mat with a soundless splash.
A twitch pulsed next to his nose, lip curling in anger. “I'm hoping you walk away from this, for my daughter's sake.”
My muscles shook with white hot rage. What the fuck did that mean? He's a ruthless piece of shit, motherfucker!
The hatred and turmoil over what he said was visible all over. The veins in my neck bulged as I swallowed, my eyes furrowed down, each muscle cocking back ready to strike.
Balling my fists hard, I was a split second away from punching him square in t
he jaw. His eyes flicked to my arms, head shifting a hair as he watched me transform from man to animal.
Louis' grin split wide across his round face, his voice low. “Save that for the fighter, Quinn, you're going to need it.” Raising the microphone, he yelled, “You both know the rules, let the blood bath begin!”
The room churned, wild panting and cheers rattled inside my skull. The crowd reared up, cramming together like a can of sardines. Every eye gawked with thirst, waiting for the slaughter to begin.
Turning back to look over at Cadence, she chewed on her fingers, brows arching up, fear and uncertainty painted across her face.
I wanted to hold her, let her know she doesn't have to worry about me. I'm a trained killer of sorts. I watched the other fights, even watching Nico bob back and forth like a fucking fairy, made me realize these guys don't know shit.
They're street thugs, wielding flailing arms, and a good sucker punch if they land it. They fight with their fists, but they don't use their heads.
Could they take out your average guy? Sure.
Could they take out a professional?
Not a chance in hell.
Even with the promise I made to stay clear from the ring, my adrenaline had already begun to pump the moment the Macro called me out.
Violence had been my only lust.
But Cadence had stepped in to fill its place, every piece of her was worth tasting, worth drowning in.
She started a fire inside, and I couldn't put it out.
Gripping the neck of my shirt, I pulled it over my head and tossed it to the side. Steel grunted, his vocalization sounding more animalistic than human.
I couldn't help but laugh. When the chuckle rolled from my lips, the Macro shot a glance at me as he slid between the ropes. His face churned with confusion, wondering where my nerves had come from, and why I wasn't cowering in the corner.
Kicking my sneakers off, my bare feet hit the cold surface. It was déjà vu, bringing me back to my roots, to that day, that time; the one I had tried so hard to forget.
Shaking my head vigorously, I pushed the images from my mind.