by Mazzy King
I turn. Curtis is already in the cage, shirt off, pacing around and flexing to the roaring crowd.
“And don’t forget what Jeremy said,” Marty adds in a low voice, all traces of salesman gone. “If you don’t get your ass in that cage and fight, I’ll call the cops myself on you and press charges. Then you can say goodbye to the Army.”
I slowly shift my gaze back to him. He wears a smug smile on his face. I’ve worked with Marty long enough to know he’s not bluffing.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. You’re more than your anger.
Be the man you want Blair to love.
I take a deep breath through my nose, squaring my shoulders, tightening all my muscles, and clenching my fists. I look Marty in the eye as I clench my jaw, and for a second, a flicker of fear passes through his eyes.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say quietly. “I’m going to handle that motherfucker in the cage one way or another. But after that, we’re done. Me and you. I fucking quit.”
I turn my back on his shocked, dismayed face.
“What about your mom?” he says, one final stab to my back. “Don’t you want to take care of her? Where else are you gonna make hundreds of bucks at a time, right in your hand, under the table?”
I whirl around. For mentioning my mother, I should lay his ass out. “I’d rather get fucking deployed,” I snarl. “At least then I’d be doing something I’m proud of.”
He doesn’t say anything else when I turn and stalk to the cage.
I rip off my T-shirt and sweatshirt and throw them aside, rage making my blood simmer in my veins. Curtis is still bouncing around in a way that tells me he might have some training as a fighter. He’s tall and built, and this won’t be what I’d call an easy fight.
When Blair left me in the dressing room, I put my fighting shorts on, my T-shirt and hoodie on top to stay warm. Curtis has also taken his shirt off, but he’s wearing jeans, like most of the assholes who think they want to fight me.
No mouthguards. No gloves. Straight-up, no-holds-barred cage match.
“Axel!”
The sound of my name in that sweet voice catches my attention. I turn and catch sight of Blair in front of the cage, her fingers curled around the wire. She looks terrified.
Yet another reason this is my last fight, here in this fucking dirty-ass dungeon, working for some man who doesn’t consider me anything more than a side of meat.
Last time, I mouth to her.
Fuck him up, she mouths back.
I almost want to laugh. But I’m still too angry.
The bell dings, and Curtis lunges at me with a haymaker. I sidestep it, but just barely—he could’ve taken my head off with that swing. However, his momentum carries him past me, and I deliver a hard, sharp kick to his hamstring. His knee follows suit and buckles, and he drops to the floor. But before I can jump on him, he quickly rolls out of the way.
I wasn’t expecting him to be that fast.
He shakes out the sting and gets back up, sneering at me. He rushes me again, swinging some sort of bastardized combo, but while I duck the first jab, he catches me under the chin with a swift uppercut. The force of it makes my head snap back and I stumble against the cage.
I barely have time to get my arms up before he’s on me.
His fists are like two huge rocks, pummeling me over and over. My head is protected as my forearms take the punishment, but he adds in a few jabs to my ribs and sides, and if I don’t get out of this soon, he’s going to break something.
I drive my knee upward into his groin. That’s the thing about these fights—I’m wearing protection like a nut cup. The idiots who take me on rarely do. And every so often I remind them of why fighting me here is a terrible idea.
Curtis’s mouth opens in a silent howl, his eyes wide.
I bring my elbow up into a hard, downward strike so sharp I could’ve cut butter. Instead, I split the skin over his eyebrow open. Then I return the favor and uppercut his mouth closed.
With his dick shriveled up into his body, blood seeping into his eye, and possibly missing a tooth or two, he keels back like a freshly cut tree.
I lean over him, pressing one knee into his bicep to pin it there. “You ever come around Blair again, I promise you, this’ll be like ballroom dancing compared to what I’ll do to you then.”
Instead of delivering the unnecessary night-night punch, I spit on the floor beside his head.
The crowd goes insane—half the people there are cheering and screaming their asses off. The other half must have bet against me and are groaning.
I don’t give a shit about any of it.
I look for her near the front, but she’s gone.
“Blair?” I call, slamming the cage door open so hard the top half wrenches off its hinge. “Blair!”
I brutally shoulder my way through the crowd, looking for my girl. People reach out to pat me, shake my hand, tap me on the shoulder. I ignore all of them. Blair is the only thing that matters to me right now.
I jog up the stairs and finally find her by the back bar with Honey, holding my T-shirt and my hoodie. She’s talking to her old roommate, Nancy.
What the hell is she doing here?
I approach them. Honey sees me first and nudges Blair. She whirls and catches sight of me, her eyes wide. Then she throws herself into my arms, kissing my face all over.
“Your mouth is bleeding,” she says tenderly, swiping away some of the blood from when Curtis uppercutted me. “Oh, my god. Your sides—they’re all bruised!”
For the first time I notice how painful it is to breathe. “I’ll be all right,” I whisper, smoothing my hand down the back of her head. “Now that I found you. I promise, that asshole will never bother you again.”
“I love you, Axel,” she says, her voice trembling.
I smile, closing my eyes for a beat. “You know I love you, baby.”
She hugs me fiercely. The agony is intense, but she quickly loosens her hold with a gasp. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I say with difficulty but muster a smile.
“He got you good,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. Then her pillow lips set in a tight line. “Luckily he got what’s coming to him, and it’s not over yet.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Huh?”
But before I can ask further questions, Blair ticks her chin at something over my shoulder. I turn my head and see a group of cops striding into the place, yelling at people, kicking them out, and pushing down the stairs into the fighting pit. Pretty soon, people start flooding up the stairs and out the door.
“I had enough,” Nancy speaks up. I glance at her, and for the first time, I notice the huge bruise circling her left eye. “Tonight, he was spoiling for a fight. I gave him what I thought he wanted. It wasn’t enough for him. Afterward, he came here looking for you. But I decided…I can’t take anymore. I’m pressing charges.”
“Maddox has a buddy on the force,” Blair tells me proudly. “Darby. I got his number from Maddox and told him what was going on. They’re coming to get Curtis.”
As if on cue, a young, tough-looking cop shoves a barely conscious Curtis up the stairs, his hands cuffed behind him.
“Here, put this on,” Blair says, quickly handing me my T-shirt and hoodie. “You won’t get in trouble for fighting, but we don’t want to make it obvious you’re a fighter.”
I do what she says. “How do you know I won’t get in trouble?” I ask, amused. “Are you secretly an undercover cop?”
She rolls her eyes, gingerly slipping her arm around my waist. “You watch too many crime shows. People paid to fight you. They knew what they were doing. It wasn’t assault, in the strictest legal definition.”
I nuzzle her ear. “It’s sexy when you talk like that.”
She elbows me, then squeals. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s gonna need more than an Epsom salt bath,” Honey says, frowning. “Axel, you gotta go to the hospital.”
“Yeah,�
�� I say tightly.
“Come on,” Blair says worriedly. She looks at Nancy. “Are you going to be all right?”
She nods. “Harlowe’s coming to pick me up.”
“Your sister?” Blair asks.
Nancy nods. “Yeah.” Her lips twist into a ghost of a smile. “She had a hand in Darby getting out here as fast as he did. They have history, I guess.”
“Well, thank God,” Blair says, squeezing her hand. “I’m glad you’re doing this. Taking back your life.”
Nancy nods. “It’s going to be a long road, but…it’s time.” She glances at me. “Thanks for taking care of him like that.”
I give her a little salute. “Take care of you.”
“I will, if you make sure to treat Blair like the fucking princess she is,” Nancy says quietly, her voice wavering, then glances toward the door, where the cop Darby is motioning to her. “I think my ride’s here. And I gotta talk to the cops. See you guys.”
“All right, you two,” Honey says. “Let’s go. I’m driving you to the hospital.”
“You don’t have to,” I wheeze. “My truck’s outside.”
“You definitely can’t drive, and sweetie pie here needs to keep an eye on you,” Honey says firmly, pushing us toward the door. “I’m just across the street. I’m driving.”
Together we shamble toward the door. The adrenaline is wearing off fast, because I feel more battered with every step.
We’re just outside when a man in a suit steps toward me. “Axel Hanlon, right?”
“Can’t you see he’s hurt?” Honey snaps. “Get your selfie with him another time. Instagram Stories can wait.”
The man smiles. “I’m a rep from Octagon Champions. My name is Bruce Wellsley.”
I gape at him. “The biggest MMA tournament in the country?”
He offers his hand. “That’d be the one.”
I shake it. At my side, Blair looks up at me, confused.
“I see you took a few good ones tonight, so I won’t keep you,” Bruce says. “But I’ve been watching you for a couple weeks, and I’ve been terribly impressed with your performances. I’ve recorded a few of them, including tonight’s, and the tournament organizers would like me to offer you a slot in the tournament in six months.”
“Whoa,” Blair says in a hushed voice.
“Really?” I ask.
“We promise nothing but the slot. The hard work is up to you. You’ve got six months to train, but you should know the prize money this year is seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
I can’t say anything for a second.
“Well?” Honey exclaims. Her eyes are huge. So are Blair’s.
“Y-yeah,” I choke out, then reach for Bruce’s hand. “Yes.”
“Wonderful.” He nods, then hands me a business card. “When you’re feeling better, give me a call and we’ll go over the details. I’ll have a welcome packet to send you. In the meantime, take care of yourself. I look forward to chatting with you soon.”
“You too,” I reply.
He waves and heads off toward a sleek black car down the street.
“Hospital time,” Honey says, clapping.
“That’s amazing!” Blair exclaims.
Through the pain, I smile. A surge of competitiveness rises inside me. With my girl at my side, I feel I can do anything, and this opportunity will change my life forever—if I can pull off a win.
“Think I can do it?” I ask, gazing down at her.
She leans close. “You can do anything, Axel. I believe in you, and I love you.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I love you more.”
Epilogue
Axel
Octagon Championship
Six months later
I’m breathing hard. I’m winded—a little. But my muscles are warm and coiled tight, ready to spring. My focus is sharp.
And the guy across the cage from me is not going home the victor.
Under the blazing bright lights of the tournament, with over twenty thousand screaming fans cheering us on and hundreds of thousands more watching at home, I make my move.
I rush toward him. Both of us are tired. It’s been a long fight. But I know I have more gas in the tank than he does. I know I want this more than he does—that’s why I have more gas in the tank. I trained harder than he did. I studied him more than he studied me. I learned his moves. I know how to beat him.
It’s come down to the two of us. Just the two of us, after a long few days of fights.
I’m not going home emptyhanded.
Somewhere on the floor, Blair’s sitting with my coach, watching me. Depending on me. Waiting for me. Wearing a sexy, slinky black dress I can’t wait to peel off her body later. I can’t let her down. And I sure as shit am not about to let this dude beat me in front of her. Fuck everyone else. I won’t lose. I need to win, for my baby.
He feints to the right, then the left, swing and slicing. I dance out of the way, letting one of the blows glance off my shoulder. It hurts, but I acknowledge the pain and shove it aside.
Focus. Focus.
He throws a front kick at me. I catch his leg, then as his arms reflexively flail to keep his balance, I strike him with a hard jab to the nose. He falls back and I release him. When he makes to get up, I drop to the floor of the octagon and sweep his leg.
Then I jump on his chest to finish him with a ground-and-pound.
The refs peel me off him, and I’m declared the winner.
The next several moments are a huge blur to me. There’s a short ceremony. An interview. I’m paraded around the octagon with a huge belt—a truly impressive one—on my shoulder. I’m given a huge cardboard check for the amount of seven hundred and fifty grand.
Then, before the madness of fans leaving their seats can begin, I’m ushered by assistants to my dressing room, where I’m given all the Gatorade I can stand and some food.
I tell one of the assistants on the way to the shower to find Blair for me. He nods and disappears.
After a shower and being checked out by the medic—only a couple of bruises and a small cut on my face—I dress in nice clothes and sit down on a sofa to wait for Blair. I want to take her someplace swanky to celebrate.
Finally the assistant reappears. Blair’s behind him. I rush over to her.
“My baby, the champ,” she murmurs, then kisses me in a way that makes me think we don’t have to rush off to that celebration. “I am so proud of you, Axel. So proud. I saw all your hard work all these months, and it paid off.”
“I can really take care of my mom,” I say, cupping her face. “And you. Baby, get ready and see all the things I do for you.”
She laughs lightly. “You do plenty, with or without a lot of money.”
“Still,” I tell her, “we have it now. And I’m going to spoil the ever-living shit out of you. So get ready and don’t fight me on anything.”
She giggles. “I’ll do my best. But, Axel, there’s someone here to see you.”
I tilt my head. “Who?”
Blair glances over her shoulder. “Get in here,” she yells, a smile on her face.
And in walks a young man, a familiar face I haven’t seen in a while.
In nine months, to be exact.
Resplendent in a fresh Army combat uniform, patrol cap in hand, lean and tanned from the desert sun, is my friend Maddox Brassard.
I slowly stand up, then step over to him. We embrace roughly.
“Damn, man,” I say around a lump in my throat. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, brother,” he says, pounding my back. “You too.”
Behind him, Blair, wipes at her teary eyes.
I give him a little shove. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
He gives me a lopsided grin, a cocky smile that reminds me of Blair’s sassy version. “That would defeat the purpose of a surprise, right?” He pauses with a sigh, his smile turning tender as he glances at Blair. “Besides, I, uh…didn’t want my si
ster’s boyfriend to know I was coming.”
I scratch the back of my head, glancing at Blair. She gives me a private little smile. “About that…”
“Hold up.” He lifts a hand. “Listen, Blair and I already talked about it. I don’t need you feeling bad or whatever. You guys fell in love. Hell, you’re lucky. I’m happy for you, man. You’re a great guy. I love you, and I love my sister, and I want her to be happy.”
“Thanks, Mad.” I hug him again, and then he hugs Blair.
“And now that I’m going reserve, I should be around if you guys ever get married,” he says with a laugh. “I’ve had enough of the active duty life. I’m gonna finally open that garage I’ve always wanted with my deployment money and live the blue-collar life.”
“That’s great,” I exclaim. “And, yeah. I’ll need you to stick around, uh…be my best man.”
They both go quiet and stare at me.
“What?” Blair says in a hushed voice.
I reach into my pocket and withdraw a small box. It contains the custom ring I’ve spent the last few months working on with a local jeweler. It’s unique and beautiful, just like Blair.
I lower myself to one knee before her. “I love you, Blair Brassard, and living next door to you for the past six months has been a joy. But I want to share my life and build a home with you…forever. Will you be my wife?”
Blair has one hand clapped to her mouth, the other at her chest, but she finally finds her voice. “Yes! Yes!”
She leaps into my arms, and then Maddox winds both his arms around us.
“I love you,” I murmur in her ear.
She draws back and touches my cheek. “I love you more, champ.”
The End
2 | DARBY
1
Harlowe Monroe
I’ll kill the bastard.
It’s the only thought in my head, beating a refrain, as I throw the shifter of my red Chevy Malibu into park. I know I’m in the right place even though I didn’t put The Pit’s address into my GPS. All the cop cars lined up outside with their lights flashing are clue enough for me.
