Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The fight starts, the brutality of it all rendering me speechless. This isn’t like the fights that are highly publicized in the professional circuit. This shit is dirty. The fighters are quite literally beating the shit out of each other. Blood spills all over the ring as the guy with the scar lays into his opponent, easily getting the upper hand.
“Aren’t there rules or something?” I ask, leaning toward Lex as the guy with the scar gets his opponent on the ground and sits on top of his chest, keeping him pinned as he pummels his fists into his face, easily breaking his jaw.
“No,” she scoffs. “Not in the Underground.”
Holy fuck.
This is terrifying, but I can’t look away. Within seconds, Scar knocks his opponent out cold, and a dude wearing black comes into the ring and holds his hand up to the sky, declaring him the winner of this round.
Fight after fight goes down, and I’m amazed at how much blood coats the floor. The last guy who went down tried to move his arms and legs as he attempted to get up and unconsciously made a snow angel. Or . . . a blood angel? I don’t know, but it was gross.
The smell of alcohol surrounds me and people continue to make bets on each fight, but my eyes remain solely on the ring. The announcer calls the final fight and introduces a new guy, explaining that this is his first time in the Underground.
A strange hush flows through the room as everyone seems to lean in just a little, intrigued by the idea of having fresh meat in the pit. The announcer introduces him as The Widow Maker and as he strides out into the blood-soaked ring, the crowd goes wild.
The Widow Maker is wearing a black robe with his hood pulled up right over his head, and as he pulls it off, my gaze becomes glued to his body. He’s like a work of art, so perfectly sculpted with a wide, strong chest and perfectly defined abs. My gaze locks onto that deep V with hunger when he lifts his head to the cheering crowd and everything comes to a standstill. The noise of the crowd fades around me, my gaze so intimately focused on him that everything else blurs.
I stifle a gasp, not believing what my eyes are clearly showing me.
It couldn’t be him. He’s supposed to be a hockey player, not a fighter.
Unease rocks through me. I’m intrigued to see him fighting it out in the ring, but I’m also terrified of what could happen to him. The idea of this guy getting hurt makes my stomach clench, but why the hell do I care?
Damn it. I wish I knew his name.
I find myself creeping even closer to the ring, almost gripping the bars as my stare remains locked on him. As if sensing my eyes on him, his head snaps up. He looks straight up at me, that dark, dangerous stare locking right onto mine.
Surprise flickers in his eyes, but there’s something else there that I can’t quite figure out. It’s almost as if he’s happy to see me, pleased to find me lingering in the rowdy crowd, as though I’ve given him something to fight for. It’s clear I was the last person on earth he expected to see hovering around the ring, but none of that should matter right now. He should be focused on this fight, not me. Although, the fact that he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from mine is getting me all kinds of hot and bothered.
My thighs clench, and I watch as he catches the slight movement, hunger coursing through his stare.
My tongue rolls over my bottom lip, the tension growing between us, and goddamn, if this man doesn’t look away soon, I’m going to burst into flames right here for the world to see.
Chapter 5
XANDER
Xander
The Underground is fucking insane. It’s my first fight, and I have to admit, my nerves are starting to get the best of me. I know I’m prepared, but I’ve never seen my opponent fight before. How do I know what to expect? Is he good? Is he a clean fighter or a dirty one?
Who am I kidding? If he’s in the Underground, it’s a fucking guarantee that the motherfucker is dirty. There’s a reason these assholes aren’t working the professional circuit.
“You’ve got this,” Cole says as he takes both my shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze.
Luke and Jace stand next to Cole, both giving me encouraging smiles, but I can see the nervousness in their heavy stares. “Don’t let him get you off your feet,” Jace reminds me. “Get in and get it done.”
I nod, taking any last-minute advice they’ve got and holding onto it with both hands. After all, I don’t want to screw up my first fight of the season and tarnish my reputation before I’ve even got one. Besides, there’s five grand on the line for tonight. Compared to my trust fund, that’s just spare change, but it’s going to make a difference when I need to get my own place and live on my own two feet.