31. Kieran
Chapter 31
Kieran
O scar throws the first punch with the force of a wrecking ball. His red glove is a blur as it crashes into my eye socket, sending a slice of pain down my right side. Quickly, I retaliate with my fist in an upward motion that connects with his jaw. The sickening dull crack hones me in on the fight, while I ignore the jeers and gasps from the crowd.
Shuffling, I bounce on my toes, calculating my next move. Sweat already beads above my upper lip, and my tongue darts out to taste the salty skin. Forward motions seem like the best bet, so I push a jab, but he blocks me. I grit my teeth over my mouth guard.
Oscar explodes back at me, landing a combination—jab, cross, uppercut—in quick succession sending my knees buckling. The crowd fuels me, and I spin for a roundhouse kick, landing it with a solid whack on his thigh. He hops back.
I ignore the burn in my lungs and the ache in my muscles to suck in a breath. I’ve spent less time in the gym the past two weeks, and it shows.
In my brief pause, Oscar prowls, landing a right hook across my cheek. Then he grapples behind me. Flesh squeezes around my neck as Oscar puts me in a standing rear chokehold. I stumble back as he exerts more pressure. His muscles flex over my thudding pulse, his elbow underneath my chin, his other hand flat against the back of my head. A white haze bleeds into my vision, and more black spots filter in until I’m blind, completely unable to see.
A sultry voice accompanies the sea of black around me, and it’s then she walks toward me. She sways her hips and reaches up to flip her short hair back behind her. Far away, she’s an inky onyx, but as she nears, the veil melts off of her, revealing the familiar olive-toned skin. The pixelated picture of her renders clearer the closer she gets. Cocoa-colored hair with eyes to match. The petite figure approaches. The woman I’ve been seeing for the past year gives way to the woman occupying all of my thoughts lately.
Summer.
I choke on the surrounding air, struggling to breathe. Is my mind just replacing the woman with Summer? Or has Summer been the one I’ve been thinking of the whole time?
This magnetic pull to see the woman during my fights has been a thrill for twelve months, but seeing Summer there—it’s always been her.
Damn it, Kieran. I curse myself for being here in the ring, chasing I don’t even know what anymore, instead of being home.
I roar, my limbs pulling and pushing. Bright lights break through the dark of my blinded vision and the pumping fists of the crowd gather back in. Oscar has me pinned, and my limbs are close to giving out. I’m starved for oxygen.
I rake over the spectators, snagging on none other than Riku surrounded by four guards and scowling. The tattoos under his eyes bunch as he squints in the ring. Though, his look seems to be directed above me, grazing the top of my head. He holds two fingers, rubbing them together—the sign for money.
The secure clamp on my neck loosens. Air floods my lungs and I gasp, turning quickly and using the momentum to carry me into an uppercut. When his head snaps back, I follow up with a front kick to his midsection. Oscar drops to his knees too easily, and I pay him back for the chokehold with one of my own.
Too easy , my brain whispers.
His body slackens while the pent-up fight leaves him.
No.
I lean down, my mouth to his ear. “What the hell is this?”
He drops farther to the floor, arm lifting and tapping on my squeezing biceps.
“Tap out!” the referee yells, hooking an arm with mine and doing his job to pull me off of him.
Cheers rival that of a packed football stadium, and a high-pitched buzz fills my ears as Joe enters the ring and lifts my arm in the air. He says something I don’t catch; I’m too busy narrowing my gaze at Oscar.
Head hung low, he avoids me, while he rolls his shoulders and wipes a gloved fist across his nose. Oscar is the best. Not once have I beat him. Odds were I’d lose, because that’s what was supposed to happen.
Riku’s seat is now empty, and I growl in frustration. Ripping my hand away from Joe, I clamber out of the ring, hunting for an explanation. Yet, the harder I push through the crowd, the more I search, the more it settles in and mimics the punch of unease I felt earlier.
Oscar threw that fight. And hell if I know why.