Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance

by Isabella Starling

  I slam my knee into Salem’s face and the crush of cartilage and bone against it is so fucking rewarding. When Sawyer grabs me and pushes me away from his brother, Salem’s already going down.

  The crowd erupts in roars, but that’s not what I notice. From the corner of my eye, I see Adrienne reacting to something to her left, her face turned away from the fight. I turn to see her looking at a tall, but delicate-looking woman who bears some similarity to her, and the next thing I know, I’m in a fucking chokehold.

  Sawyer’s roaring in my ear, spouting insults and seeping with rage. He has me in tight, his right fist pummeling at my face and his left keeping me stuck against his sweaty body. I gasp for air, running out, while he viciously assaults my face. Every hit I expect it to be the last one I see, the pain fucking unbearable.

  The people around me are chanting, squealing, shouting. I don’t hear anything but a steady murmur, a high-pitched whine in my ears from the loss of oxygen. But then, there’s a voice I recognize.

  “Memphis!” Adrienne screams, and I hear the desperation in her voice. “Memphis, you can do it!” she cries out, and I can sense the tears in her eyes.

  Something surges in me. I’m tired and worn and all I want is to fall into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness, but I have to keep fighting.

  For her.

  I don’t have a lot of options so I use the best one available to me. I give up on trying to pry myself loose and go for the crown jewels instead. In professional fights, you’re not allowed to go anywhere near a guy’s privates or you get tossed from the cage. Here, we don’t have those rules. So I punch him in the nuts.

  The first hit makes him grunt out and the next one sees his hold on me weaken and I slip out like an eel. I’m up, disoriented, but up, and I heave in lungfuls of air. I can barely see through the blood streaming from my face – I’m sure he’s broken my nose and the blood has spread all over me, but I’m up and still fighting.

  Growling, I take a step forward and then another. I fake a kick at his abdomen and then counter with a swinging high-kick that hits him square in the face, the ball pf my foot connecting with his jaw. He flies back into the cage and I’m on him like an animal. I don’t see anything but red and the next thing I know, I’m being torn off his limp body by countless strong arms, howling insults at him and trying to kick at anyone around me.

  “Memphis, fucking chill,” Sage hisses in my ear and that’s like a bucket of ice to the face.

  It’s like I’m coming out of a trance. I look at Sawyer and Salem and they’re both out cold. Sawyer looks like it would take a team of experts to put his face back where it belongs. He looks like Mr. Potato head now, everything sort of off from where it should be. I’m wheezing and my vision is hazy at the edges.

  Not this again.

  I haven’t gotten like this since that night. The night my parents were killed. I thought I wasn’t capable of that anymore, but I guess the thought of losing Adrienne was enough to send me into a blind rage again.

  “I’m fine, I’m cool! Let me the fuck go,” I snarl, and Sage and two other goons I probably know let me go.

  I almost crumple to the ground when they do, but I right myself, leaning against the fencing. The crowd has gone entirely quiet, not a fucking peep coming from them. I look out onto the sea of faces and all I see is awe. Awe and fear.

  Angel of fucking Pain. I didn’t get that for nothing.

  “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” I mutter under my breath, looking up at the balcony.

  Wilson doesn’t look particularly pleased. Adrienne’s face is a mask of horror, but she manages to give me a little smile as our gazes meet. Thank fucking Christ. If she would have looked away in disgust, I don’t know what I would have done.

  Clearing his throat, Wilson gets up and yanks the pretty lady I noticed coming in under armed guard during the match to her feet again. Adrienne looks like she’s about to pass out. My ears are still ringing, but since Wilson’s the only one making a peep in the huge, damp, dark room, I catch every word.

  “Wasn’t that a great fight, folks?” he asks, and no one dares answer.

  I feel the weight of countless gazes on me and I snarl in response. A woman giggles somewhere. I bet she’s trying to find out whether she could come to my room tonight, see the Angel of Pain in action up close and personal.

  “You’re damn right it was,” Wilson continues, unperturbed by the stunned silence. “But that’s not the only good news I have. As many of you may know, our good old friend Nicholas Hanson passed away some time ago, leaving his poor wife Valerie and his lovely daughter Adrienne to mourn after him. I have taken them under my wing and tonight, I have some excellent news to share with all of you!”

  I straighten myself, wincing as I do so. I don’t want to miss a word. Valerie looks like she’s seen a ghost, she’s stiff, quiet and keeps her eyes down. Adrienne on the other hand has all the makings of someone who is about to push a man off a balcony. Shame Wilson’s standing too far from the edge, I’d love to finish him off if he ended up in my cage.

  “Valerie and I will be married! The invites are going out tonight and I hope to see many of you celebrating with us on our joyous occasion! Now, let’s hear a round of applause for our victor, and for my lovely bride!”

  He makes a real show of kissing Valerie and I don’t think the woman even fucking notices what’s being done to her. She looks like she’s completely checked out.

  Adrienne’s clutching her chest like her heart has just broken in it, shattered to pieces. I can feel her pain from here.

  The crowd erupts in applause and I spit out a mouthful of coagulating blood. Ninety-eight and ninety-nine are even more fucking bitter than ninety-seven was.

  Fifteen

  Adrienne

  Cobb has declared an ultimate victory over my father’s legacy, by claiming my mother as his new bride.

  I just watched the man I… have feelings for, kill, or at least seal the fate of two others with his bare hands. Another thing I might not ever recover from. Seeing him stand next to their bodies, his apologetic eyes finding mine in the crowd, might be a sight I won’t forget for the rest of my life.

  I barely remember how I get back to my room that night. I think I’m escorted by Sage, who makes sure I’m alright – dazed, but alright – before leaving me locked up as usual.

  Lying on my back on my bed, my heart and mind both pound with the news we just got. I remember the look of sheer terror in my mother’s eyes when Cobb declared he was marrying her. There was a kind of sad acceptance behind it, as if she’d known about this for a while now.

  I hurt for my mother and the life we had with my father. Now, I know for sure those days are over once and for all.

  That night, I don’t get any sleep. I toss and turn the entire night, my mind plagued with horrible nightmares with one main character always wearing the mask of a killer.

  Wilson Cobb.

  He even haunts me in my dreams.

  The house seems to be in a sort of haze after Cobb breaks the big news. As I stare at the maid that delivers my breakfast next morning, I wonder how the staff is taking the announcement. She avoids my gaze and makes sure to make no contact with me, be it verbal or physical. A longing to see Hannah again fills me up, and I wonder whether I’ll ever meet her again.

  She’s done so much for me, and only got punished in the process. I make a promise to myself to give Hannah a better life one day. A future she deserves, and not one where she’s terrified for her own life every step of the way.

  Once the maid disappears, I sit down for my solitary breakfast. My heart almost stops beating when I see an envelope on the tray in front of me. For a moment, I think it might be from Memphis, but in the next second, I recognize the handwriting on it as my mother’s.

  Rushing to get it, I take a letter from the envelope with shaking fingers. My eyes skim over the contents, needing to know whether my mother is okay. I haven’t had any contact with her, apart from the
dinner we had together with Cobb where he completely lost it, and seeing her last night at the fight. I can only imagine it’s worse than that most of the time she’s alone with him.

  The letter is nothing but a compulsory note, nothing of the vibrant and sweet woman that has been my mother for my whole life in the words. Wilson has as if managed to suck all the life out of her, draining her until she’s nothing but a lifeless doll.

  Mom wrote about the marriage, some nonsensical things about the dress I’ll have to wear. At the end of the note, she mentions meeting up with the designer, and how she’d like me to come as well. I allow a smile to appear on my face. Maybe we’ll get a chance to speak after all.

  Our meeting will happen right after breakfast, so I hurry through my meal and get ready in a rush, desperate to talk to my mother before the wedding takes place. Like clockwork, there is a knock on my bedroom door thirty minutes later, but this time it’s not only to get my tray. I follow a guard down to the salon.

  The place is overflown by fabric. A small, thin to the point of being gaunt, woman races around the room, measuring this and that. A few other people, I assume maids, loiter in the space quietly, making sure everything’s taken care of.

  My heart surges when I see Hannah standing in the corner. Her eyes are averted, and she looks tired and worn out. Nothing like the shy, but vibrant in her own way young woman I’d come to love over the past few weeks. I think about approaching her when she turns slightly, and I get a better look at her.

  She’s clutching a piece of fabric in her hands, one of which is covered in gauze. I stare at it for a long time, making out a small blood stain on it. Bile rises in my throat as I remember Memphis’ words.

  He hurt her. He made me watch.

  With disgust, I realize Cobb chopped off another of Hannah’s finger. Hannah looks at me for a second, and we stay like that, our gazes meeting across the room with so many things left unsaid.

  I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.

  I mouth the words, and she smiles softly. It’s nothing, but I don’t dare do anything else. Cobb has eyes everywhere in this place, and I don’t want to piss him off even more, for all our sakes.

  “Adrienne!”

  My little exchange with Hannah is interrupted by my mother’s voice calling out to me, and I turn around to face her. She’s standing in the middle of the room, attended to by several assistants and the designer herself.

  I approach her with a smile, my stomach aflutter with butterflies at seeing her again.

  “Mom,” I call back. “You look… beautiful.”

  And in fact, she does. Even though she’s thin as hell, her tired eyes have a new sparkle to them as she twirls in her dress. It’s pretty, covered in intricate lace on the bodice and sweeping into a long veil in the back.

  Mom steps down and approaches me, the assistants that were working on her dress scattering around the room. The designer herself passes around us, and I furrow my brows as I look at her. She looks vaguely familiar, and she gives me a knowing smile before disappearing to fiddle with some fabric.

  Next thing I know, I’m scooped up into my mother’s arms, and I let the familiar feeling overtake me for a second. Despite everything we’ve been through in the past few weeks, she’s still my mother, and I love her dearly. I just wish we could be free of the monster she’s now set to marry.

  “Are you alright, Adrienne?” she asks me, the worry plainly visible on her face.

  I know I need to lie for her sake. She’s already worried sick, and even if I tell her I’m fine, I’m sure she knows there’s something more going on.

  “I’m fine, mom,” I tell her with a genuine smile. “I’m so happy to see you. Can we talk?”

  My mother turns around and asks the rest of the women in the room to give us a moment in her charming way. I’m shocked to see all of them filing out of the room. I expected them to be on strict orders to supervise, but it seems as if we’ll get a moment alone, after all.

  Once we’re alone, mom turns to face me, her fingers traveling down my cheek. I lean into her touch, so happy to be reunited with her, even though the circumstances are less than ideal.

  “Why did you accept his proposal, mom?” I whisper.

  I know I shouldn’t question her actions. But I also know, deep down, she certainly doesn’t want to marry Wilson Cobb. My father was the love of her life, and I know she would decline the marriage proposal, even in the state she’s in now.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she tells me with a small smile. “Even if I declined, he would’ve found a way for me to comply. And he would’ve hurt us both as punishment.”

  Her words ring true, and I know she’s right. I nod slowly as she walks me over to a sitting area in the salon, delicately taking a seat next to me on a velvet loveseat.

  “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about your father,” she tells me. “Not at all, darling.”

  “I know,” I mutter. “It just hurts, everything that he’s making us do.”

  “I know, baby.” She smooths down my hair lovingly. “I know it hurts, but there’s nothing we can do right now. But soon, there might be.”

  I give her a curious look.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Isn’t my designer just wonderful?” Mom smiles broadly, and I follow up with a confused quirk of the brow. “I used to know her in my college days, you know. She’s an old friend of mine.”

  “Okay.” I give her a long look, trying to see what she’s getting at.

  Mom sighs and swings her feet. I glance down to see the corner of the rug that’s placed on the floor slightly crooked. My eyes focus on a latch in the floor, and my mouth falls slightly open.

  Her own gaze is filled with mischief as she kicks the carpet to the side a bit more, revealing a trap door in the floor.

  “On the day of the wedding,” my mother continues, “There will be a small window of opportunity for you, darling. I want you to remember this.”

  Her foot taps on the trap door and I grin at her. She’s trying to tell me something, and not sound too suspicious in case someone’s eavesdropping on us. She just showed me an exit from the house. A way to escape. I don’t know what she’s planning on doing, but I know she’s plotting a way out of here.

  She winks at me before making sure the carpet’s back in place. Then, she gets up from the loveseat and claps her hands.

  “Now, why don’t we have you try on your dress?” she asks me with enthusiasm in her voice. “I chose a forget-me-not color, darling. It will look beautiful with your coloring.”

  I grin at her as I get up myself, smoothing down my shirt.

  “That sounds great, mom.”

  And before I can stop myself, I move in for a hug. She clutches me closely to her chest and I relish the moment before the rest of the women fill the room with their chatter and commotion.

  In that short moment, we are just mother and daughter… and we have a devious plan.

  Sixteen

  Memphis

  I grit my teeth as I walk down the hallway, flexing and unflexing my fingers. I’m dressed in a black V-neck tee and worn blue jeans. I have a pair of black shoes on I haven’t worn since I stepped into Wilson Cobb’s office years ago. There’s this odd sense of déjà vu lingering around me and I don’t particularly enjoy it.

  Things have been fucking weird in this house lately. I’m not sure what’s real and what’s a conspiracy theory at this point, so I’m mindfully careful of everything and everyone at the moment. Since Wilson’s wedding announcement, everyone seems to have gone crazy.

  The weirdest thing, and the most disconcerting, is what I first heard and then saw with my own damn eyes from Adrienne. After the fight, or two days after it, anyway, she was finally brought to me. I was fucked up to all hell, with both my eyes almost swollen shut and my wound still bleeding. Sex was a no-go, we both knew that, but we sat and talked and I’m still not sure what to make of it.

  She smuggled a small green notebook i
nto my room under her shirt and showed it to me. There, in clean black ink, I saw my father’s name written several times, dates and scribbled notes along with it. It was Adrienne’s dad’s notebook and the last mentions of my father were from a week before he and my mother were murdered.

  It had to be him, not just a namesake, because I recognized the names of some of the locations. As far as I knew, my dad ran errands for people. In my juvenile mind, I had figured he was some sort of a glorified messenger, but now I know that’s not true. Somehow, Adrienne’s father and mine are connected.

  And that means Wilson Cobb is involved in all of it.

  Adrienne promised to keep searching through the materials she got from her mother, but I don’t need any more proof. Scouring through my memories, I already know too much. Wilson’s underground fighting ring business was only getting its feet off the ground when my parents died, but in a short while, it had grown to be a massive, scary thing, with large sums of money rolling around in it. By the time I got into it, it was booming.

  I remember that Wilson stopped me mid-sentence when I came to see him the first time. He already knew who I was.

  Now I know why that is.

  I don’t know why and I don’t know for what reason, but of this I am sure – Wilson Cobb was behind the murder of my parents. There are just too many things coming together and if I know anything, then it’s that a rat like Wilson is exactly the kind of man to solve his problems by murdering the people who get in his way.

  A muscle in my cheek twitches and I run my hand over the long scar on my hand as Sage shows me through the mansion. I’ve been summoned. That never happens.

  “Behave yourself,” he tells me, as we stop in front of Wilson’s office door.

  It’s practically gilded. Ridiculous.

  I release my fists as Sage glances down at them and give him a winning smile. He doesn’t buy it for a second, I can tell.