A Rebel Without Claws (Southern Charm #1)

24. ~Ronan~

Chapter 24

~Ronan~

Zack and Ty had won their matches with TKOs. Neither went to the judges, which was exactly what we needed. But then Bowie’s match with Baron had, and just like we’d figured it would, the judges declared Baron the winner.

We’d trained all fucking week. My uncle had even given us time off from work to train since business was slow right now. It paid off. The guys were looking fantastic, which was why Bowie’s loss irked me so much, especially after the last match where he’d been illegally clawed and the refs didn’t call it. This time, Bowie didn’t actually lose again. But the judges said otherwise. The likely paid judges.

Now, the pressure was on me. If I won against that big fucker Carter, our team won this round. If not, it was another draw, which meant the Iron Claws had another chance to defeat us and keep their championship title. And they could be moving on to the state round, not us .

“You’ve got this,” said Zack, massaging my back.

I was plenty loose and ready to go. I wasn’t concerned about beating this big asshole.

“Remember,” said Ty, “wear him down and get him winded, then give it to him hard in the third.”

Nodding, I hopped up from our bench outside the cage as the referee opened the door. My gaze drifted to the spot where Celine sat with Diego, Joaquin, and my uncle. I could hardly believe he’d actually shown.

Celine smiled as I made the circuit of the ring and bounced in place to keep loose as Carter entered the ring. This dude was big, bigger than me. But he was slow and relied too much on his size and weight to defeat his opponent.

It was a no-brainer before it even started. Baron and his teammates whispered to Carter through the cage, likely last-minute tips on how to beat me. It only made me smile.

When Baron looked my way, his expression was brutally serious. Ty had beaten him by TKO, his first loss in the last two years from what I read online. He wasn’t happy. Nor was his father from what I could observe. He was sitting next to a bunch of other rich assholes in the front row seats.

The ref said his spiel about the rules while Carter and I faced off. He wore a cocky expression. I had no idea why. He had nothing to be cocky about, especially since I was about to wipe that grin off his face with my fist.

As soon as the bell rang, I dodged to his left side, ducked under his first swing, and jabbed him in the ribs. He swung again and clipped my shoulder, then we were circling each other .

I couldn’t let him land one of his early blows full-force. We’d talked about this fighter extensively in training. In his first two rounds, if he landed a punch to the face or ribs, it would result in a knockout or, at the very least, broken bones. But by round three, he slowed down, and his swings would lose force of impact.

“Baron had a question for you,” he mumbled as he circled closer.

I didn’t bother to respond because his shit-eating grin told me he was going to say it anyway.

“He wants to know if that redheaded pussy is as good as it looks.”

I flinched but kept circling. Trash talk wasn’t unusual or unexpected, but it was the first time anyone had said anything that actually had an impact on me. And, of course, he went on when he caught my reaction.

“He wants to know if you don’t mind sharing your witch. Says he’d like to give her a good ride.”

My entire body went white-hot. “You keep your fucking eyes and hands away from her unless you want to lose them both.”

He chuckled. “I told him you’d say something like that.” He nodded toward the bleachers. “He’s going to give it a go anyway.”

My wolf growled a low warning in my chest. Instantly, my gaze shot to the bleachers, fearing I’d find that dick Baron harassing my girl. But he wasn’t there, and I realized my mistake too late. That’s all it had taken, two seconds of my attention off the fight. It had never happened before. And I’d never been caught unawares.

All I remember was Carter coming fast and hard in my peripheral vision, then it was lights-out .

When I woke, it was to the roar of the crowd and my team’s worried faces hovering over me. The ref was there, too, concern in his brow until he saw me trying to sit up. He turned and took Carter’s arm and lifted it into the air, announcing him the winner.

It was the second tied match between our teams, but the crowd was on its feet, most of them cheering for the Iron Claws. Even though it was a tie, it was still a win for them. I’d been undefeated until a few seconds ago when I let this fucking douchebag’s trash talk actually distract me.

It had never happened before. I was actually stunned as Ty and Bowie lifted me to my feet and walked me toward the exit of the cage.

“Get used to the feeling, Reed,” shouted Baron as we passed him. “You’re up against me next.”

I didn’t even bother to respond. Actually, I couldn’t. I thought I might be in shock or something because I could barely comprehend what had happened as the guys ushered me back down the walk way through the bleachers and to our locker room.

When the guys sat me down on the cushioned bench where Bowie had nursed his wound from the last fight, I stared at the ground.

“He may be concussed,” said Ty.

“Or going into shock or something,” added Zack.

They could be right because I felt disassociated from myself. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, I combed my hands through my sweaty hair.

“What the fuck?” I whispered in utter disbelief.

A minute later, Celine and my uncle rushed into the locker room. Not what I wanted right now.

I needed a fucking second to process that I’d lost my first match to that piece of shit fighter with one of the oldest tricks in the book. Trash-talk distraction. Most good fighters didn’t even try that shit. It was low and common, unprofessional. I’d dealt with that kind of shit in alley fights back in Texas, but there was never anything anyone could say that could possibly get its hooks into me.

Except when they talked about her . About Celine. The second he’d said one single filthy thing about my girl, I was gone. My sole concern was for her, even though logically I should’ve known Baron wouldn’t and technically couldn’t leave his team’s bench before the final fight was done, or he’d be disqualified. Team rules.

But the second Carter mentioned her, my mind went blank, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It wasn’t her fault. I was fucking furious, but it was all directed toward myself.

“Ronan, are you okay?” Celine’s voice trembled as she approached, placing her hands on my shoulders.

I eased her back and stood from the bench, needing some space. I walked three steps to the line of lockers and punched my fist into one with a roaring, “Fuck!”

All the while, the celebratory cheers in the arena echoed down the hall.

On top of all of that, it was the first fight my uncle Shane had actually shown up to watch. The first time he shows, and I fail miserably in the first round.

“What did he say to you?” Uncle Shane asked. “I could tell from our seats he’d pissed you off. Your wolf flashed in your eyes.”

I’d felt him too. I almost wondered for a split second if he’d decided to finally show himself. I would’ve been disqualified. It didn’t matter. I lost all by myself anyway .

“It doesn’t matter.” I remained facing the lockers, mortified that I’d allowed this to happen.

So fucking stupid.

The healer, that blond witch, pushed into the locker room and froze when she surveyed the room, finding me now leaning back against the lockers, arms crossed.

“Are you in need of a healer?” “No,” I snapped.

She obviously caught the mood of the room. To her credit, she didn’t balk or slink away. “Why don’t we clear the room so I can determine that?”

Zack rolled his eyes and nudged Bowie toward the door. “You good?” Ty asked.

I nodded, remaining fixed with my back to the lockers.

He left behind Uncle Shane, but Celine stayed. Nausea swarmed in my belly, both at the monumentally disappointing loss and at the fact that she didn’t run from the room. From me. I was a boiling mess of emotions, and I couldn’t calm down to be nice or ease her distress. I was fucking royally pissed off.

The Conduit witch walked straight to me. “I’m going to touch your arm to read your health. Do not move.”

She must’ve been expecting me to snarl and lash out like a rabid animal. I was still pissed but somewhat in control now. I was just in a fucking awful mood. I wasn’t going to hurt her.

When I didn’t respond, she slowly reached out her hand and pressed it to my forearm. Closing her eyes, she obviously used her Conduit magic to see if I was internally injured, fucked up in the brain, or something. Her magic felt like a cool brush of wind that I could feel on the inside .

After about ten seconds, she stopped and stepped away. “You’re fine. No internal damage.”

Behind her, Celine let out a soft breath of relief. My gaze finally found her. I was too embarrassed to even look at her when she first stepped into the locker room, wanting everyone to just leave me the fuck alone.

But as the healer left without another word, I knew I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted to lay my head in her lap and let her take this awful feeling away from me.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I still hadn’t moved, my arms still crossed defensively.

She walked closer, slowly. “I’m sorry you lost. I don’t know what happened.”

Like I’d fucking tell her.

Standing close now, she eased her palms up my biceps to my shoulders, drenching me with her soothing magic. She pushed her calming spell into me. It felt the exact opposite of the Conduit’s magic. It was a humming balm, warming me down to my bones.

“I’m sorry you’re upset,” she said.

Upset didn’t begin to cover it. I was beyond that. It was humiliating to lose in the first round by knockout because of a stupid fucking mistake. Not because I wasn’t as good a fighter as him, but because I didn’t keep my head in the game.

Celine slid her hands down and tugged at my crossed arms. I let them fall to my sides as she eased her arms around my waist and pressed her cheek to my chest .

“I’m sorry you’re feeling so awful.” She squeezed my waist, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her on a heavy sigh. “I feel awful too.”

And even so, she was using her magic to ease my anger. Finally, I said, “I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it eventually.” Because I knew I would.

With every setback in life, I’d managed to move past it and forward. I was used to life’s setbacks, except it was usually because of something fate had done to me. I was rarely disappointed in myself.

“I was terrified,” she whispered into my bare skin since I was still shirtless from the fight.

“Why?” I asked.

She scoffed and leaned back to look up at me. “Are you kidding? I watched you get knocked unconscious, Ronan.”

That was when I saw the fear on her face, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’m okay,” I reassured her, cupping her face with one hand and wiping the tear that slipped down her cheek. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I almost had a heart attack watching you get knocked out.”

She had no idea how badly it hurt to hear her say that.

“I’m fine,” I said with more force than I intended.

“You don’t seem fine.”

Gently, I pushed her back so I could remove myself from her arms. I needed space.

“Look, I’m fine. This happens. Can you go wait with the guys or something? I need to get a shower. ”

She nodded but didn’t move as I grabbed my bag off the floor and headed into the showers.

The whole time I was cleaning up, I tried to wipe away the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment and disappointment of the loss, but it wouldn’t go away. Celine’s magic had calmed me down. I wasn’t raging with anger now, but it hadn’t removed my true feelings.

Still, after a long hot shower, I managed to at least see with some clarity that even though I let that asshole beat me, it wouldn’t happen again. Baron was in for a rude awakening if he thought to pull the same shit in our next fight.

That’s when I started to finally feel better. I managed to push it out of my head and look forward to the next fight when I’d kick Baron’s ass. Grabbing my phone, I read the text from Celine telling me she was waiting with Ty in the parking lot.

I quickly headed out of the locker room and down the hallway to the back door, not wanting a run-in with the Iron Claws.

Bowie and Zack were sitting in Bowie’s SUV, next to Ty’s. “You good?” Zack shouted from the open window.

“Fine.” I gave them a wave. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” said Bowie, rolling up his window, then driving off.

When I got to Ty’s car, Celine sitting next to him, they were chatting softly. Probably about me. Heaving a sigh, I opened the passenger door and leaned down. “Thanks, Ty.”

“No problem. We’ll talk tomorrow at the body shop.”

That’s what I liked about Ty. He thought like me. No need to dwell on the loss. We needed to look forward to the next fight .

To strategize and train and prepare for any more bullshit they might throw at us.

After we were belted in my Bronco, I felt her gaze on me when I turned in the direction of the city rather than heading toward the Westbank to my place. We hadn’t talked about her coming home with me tonight, but I needed to be alone.

The streets teemed with people. It was a Saturday night in New Orleans, crowds milling in and out of the bars and restaurants. But inside my truck, it was painfully quiet. We were nearly to her house when she finally said something.

“I was thinking about the teacup today.”

Surprised, I glanced at her as I took the next turn onto Magazine Street.

“You’re not just good at painting,” she added. “Your skill level is exceptional.”

Clearing my throat, I said, “Thank you.”

This seemed out of nowhere, and I had no idea why she was bringing it up. Until she went on.

“I was just wondering why you never pursued something in the arts.”

Her father was a successful sculpture artist. Her mother was a graphic novelist who’d hit bestselling lists. It wasn’t an unusual question seeing as she was surrounded by artists who made good livings at their craft. Nor was it strange since werewolves had an affinity for creativity.

“I was never interested in that,” I told her as I pulled to a stop at a red light. “Not as a career.”

An edgy sort of tension pulled my stomach tight.

“It would be much less dangerous than fighting,” she said softly .

Then again, everything about Celine was soft—her temperament, her body, her walk, her smile. Even as she expressed her hatred for my chosen career path, she did so softly, with kind eyes and a small smile.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “I like fighting, Celine.” I kept my voice steady as a sourness spread in my gut.

“I understand. I just wondered if you’d ever considered some- thing else. Something that didn’t lead to you being knocked unconscious. Or worse.”

Clamping my jaw tight for a second, I said, “You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“It didn’t seem my place to say anything before, but I’ve never liked it, Ronan.”

The light turned green, and I drove on.

“It’s because I lost tonight.” Acid churned in my belly. “But that won’t fucking happen again.”

“It’s because I care about you , not who won the stupid fight.” I turned off Magazine onto her street.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Celine.” I pulled to a stop in front of her house and shoved it into park a little roughly. “I’m not going to quit fighting. Especially after tonight.”

“Just because you lost?”

“I’ve never lost before.”

I stared out the driver’s side window, needing to get away from this conversation and from the jagged disappointment that the woman I loved wanted me to quit the only thing that had ever given me confidence and purpose.

“I just think there’s so much more you could do,” she said into the silence .

“I get that.” I turned to look at her, worry lining her pretty face. “But I like fighting. Being a champion is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Maybe I’m just not the competitive type so I don’t get the need to win or this drive to fight.”

“Can we not talk about this tonight?” I snapped. “It’s been a rough one already.”

She blinked at my tone and paused. Without waiting for an answer, I hopped out of the truck and walked around. She was already on the sidewalk when I reached her.

“I’ll be training a lot this week,” I told her, my tone harsh, but I couldn’t help it. “I may not get time to come and see you.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “If you want to see me, that is.”

“Of course I do.” She reached for me, then dropped her arm at her side. “I’m sorry if I upset you even more tonight.”

“Don’t be sorry about telling me the truth. At least now I know.”

Not that I knew how to handle this truth. Because all it did was fuck up my life.

“Ronan, I—” She paused, her expression pinched with con- cern and regret.

I’d seen that expression on every single person who meant something to me, whenever they wished they had the words to make me change my ways or who I was.

“I’ll text you,” I promised, then leaned in and kissed her cheek, willing her to leave me so I could go home and be done with this awful fucking night. “Good night.”

She stared at me for another moment, then smiled. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I nodded stiffly and lied, “I’m fine. ”

I wasn’t about to tell her that she crushed me worse than losing to that asshole in the ring. I swore to her father that I wouldn’t hurt her, and I didn’t plan to.

“Well, good night. I’ll text you tomorrow,” she said, seeming to force a cheery voice.

She hesitated before finally turning away. I watched to make sure she made it safely inside, then I hauled ass out of there.

By the time I was back on the interstate nearing the Mississippi Bridge, my head was pounding, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I rolled down the window, letting the warm wind off the river rush into the cab. My hands were shaking, so I gripped the steering wheel tight and breathed deep.

I’d never had a panic attack before, but right now, it felt like I was having one. For the first time, I wished my wolf would come out, and not just to the surface. I wanted him to take over the man so I could disappear for a while.

This aching pain wouldn’t subside, the one telling me I was yet again a disappointment to someone. But this time, it was the most important person in the world to me who I’d let down. It swallowed me whole, leaving me in a muffled, muted place.

“Come on, you fucking wolf.”

I pulled into my gravel drive, parked, and stepped out, staring up at the humped moon. Feeling like a fool, I tried to summon him. When I felt no response, I closed my eyes, hoping he’d hear me.

But . . . nothing. Yet another failure.

Giving up, I turned for the house. At least I knew there was a bottle of whiskey in Uncle Shane’s kitchen that might help me find the peace of oblivion I needed.