Chapter 16 Adrian #2
"Adrian!" Her voice cracked on his name, raw with pain and relief. "Get the medics. Someone—they came from behind—I couldn't—"
He was beside her in three strides, his hands hovering over her trembling form as he fought the urge to gather her up immediately. Through their completed bond, he could feel the sharp, grinding agony radiating from her knee, and his tiger demanded blood.
Someone had hurt his mate. Someone would pay.
"Who did this?" His voice came out as a low growl, barely human.
"I don't know." Riley's breathing was shallow. "I was changing, and someone hit me from behind. My knee just—God, Adrian, I think it's bad."
He could see that for himself. Her left knee was already swelling, the joint twisted at an angle that made his stomach clench.
But what made his vision go red around the edges was the deliberate nature of the attack.
This wasn't some random accident or locker room altercation. Someone had targeted her specifically.
"I'm getting you out of here," he said, sliding his arms beneath her with infinite care.
Riley gasped as he lifted her. "Don't—the medics can come here—"
"I'm not leaving you alone for another second," Adrian cut her off, his voice brooking no argument. The Alpha in him had taken complete control, and every protective instinct was screaming.
He carried her through the arena corridors, ignoring the stares and whispered questions that followed in their wake. The makeshift medical room was located near the main offices, a cramped space with two examination tables and basic emergency equipment.
The medics looked up as Adrian shouldered through the door, their professional calm immediately shifting to focused urgency as they took in Riley's condition.
"What happened?" The lead medic, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, was already moving toward them.
"Someone attacked her in the locker room," Adrian said, carefully settling Riley onto the examination table. "Her knee."
The medic's hands were gentle but thorough as she began her assessment, and Adrian felt every probe and movement through their bond. Riley's fingers found his, gripping tightly as she tried not to cry out.
The door burst open again, and Cameron, Riley's main sponsor, rushed in with his phone pressed to his ear. He ended the call abruptly when he saw Riley on the table.
"Jesus, Riley. What the hell happened?"
"Got jumped while I was changing," Riley managed between gritted teeth. "Didn't see who it was. They hit my knee and ran."
The medic looked up from her examination, her expression grim. "I'm afraid it looks like a torn ACL. Possibly some meniscus damage as well. You'll need an MRI to confirm, but there's no way you can compete today. Or for several months."
Adrian felt her devastation crash through their bond—the crushing realization of what this meant for her career.
"This kind of injury—it ends careers. Someone just destroyed everything I've worked for," Riley's voice was barely a whisper.
Adrian's hand clenched into a fist. It had to be Darius. The bastard had orchestrated this attack to eliminate Riley as a threat and to destabilize Adrian before his own match.
"I'm going to find Darius," Adrian said, his voice deadly quiet. "I'm going to end this."
"You don't know it was him," Riley protested, though her eyes said she suspected the same thing. "Adrian, you can't just—"
"I can and I will." His tiger was demanding blood, demanding justice for his injured mate.
"No." Riley's grip on his hand tightened. "You're not throwing away your match because of this. I won't let you jeopardize everything."
"Riley—"
"I'm serious." Despite her pain, her voice carried that familiar steel. "You've worked too hard for this. The pride is watching. You can't just abandon everything because I'm hurt."
Adrian stared at her, torn between the desperate need to hunt down whoever had done this and his mate's fierce insistence that he stay the course.
"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm staying with you until my match."
"No, you're not." Riley's brown eyes were bright with unshed tears, but her jaw was set. "Go find my mom in the stands. She can take me to the hospital. You have a match to focus on."
Every instinct screamed against leaving her, but Adrian recognized the futility of arguing with Riley when she'd made up her mind. She was protecting him, even while lying injured on a medic's table.
"I'll find Tammy," he said reluctantly. "But I'm meeting you at the hospital the second my match is over."
Riley nodded, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Go. Win this thing."
Adrian pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead, pouring all his love and promise of vengeance through their bond, then forced himself to leave the medical room.
He found Tammy in the stands, her face lighting up when she spotted him before immediately shifting to concern at his expression.
"Riley's been attacked," he said without preamble. "She's in the medical room. Torn ACL. She needs you to take her to the hospital."
Tammy's face went white. "Attacked? What do you mean attacked?"
"Someone ambushed her in the locker room. Deliberately targeted her knee." Adrian's voice was controlled, but Tammy seemed to sense the barely leashed violence beneath the surface. "Take care of her. I'll meet you at the hospital after my match."
Tammy was already gathering her purse, moving with the efficient speed of a mother responding to crisis and hurried toward the medical room, leaving him alone with his fury.
He made his way to the men's locker room, his mind already focused on what he needed to do. Change into his fighting gear. Warm up as quickly as possible. And then destroy whoever they put in front of him.
The locker room was mostly empty, most fighters already having completed their matches or moved to the warm-up areas. But as Adrian rounded the corner, he heard a sound that made his blood freeze—low, satisfied laughter.
Darius.
"...should have seen her face when she realized what happened," Darius was saying to someone Adrian couldn't see. "One clean shot to the knee and that human bitch was finished."
Adrian moved silently toward the sound, every muscle in his body coiled for violence. Around the next row of lockers, he found Darius sitting casually on a bench, talking to another fighter Adrian didn't recognize.
"I think Jessica was just upset about her defeat yesterday," Darius continued with mock innocence when he spotted Adrian. "Probably wanted a little revenge against Riley."
"You lying piece of shit." Adrian's voice was deadly quiet as he stepped closer.
Darius stood slowly, his green eyes glittering with malicious amusement. "Careful, acting Alpha. Making accusations without proof isn't very becoming of a leader."
"I could end you right now," Adrian said, moving within arm's reach. His tiger was roaring for release, demanding he shift and tear Darius apart with claws and fangs.
"But you won't." Darius's smirk widened. "Because the sentimental acting Alpha would never dream of ruining his precious reputation. Too controlled. Too measured. Too fucking weak."
Adrian's eyes flared gold, his hands beginning to shift into claws before he forced them back to human form. "I'm claiming my Alpha title soon. And when I do, you won't be able to hide behind pride politics anymore."
"We'll see about that." Darius grabbed his gear bag and brushed past Adrian, deliberately bumping his shoulder. "Good luck with your match. Try not to embarrass yourself too badly while thinking about your crippled mate."
Adrian watched him go, every fiber of his being screaming for violence. But Riley's words echoed in his mind—she wouldn't want him to jeopardize everything they'd worked for. He would win his match. He would claim his title. And then he would make Darius pay for what he'd done.
The tournament assistant appeared in the locker room entrance. "Kael! You're up in five minutes!"
Adrian finished changing into his fighting gear with mechanical precision, his mind already shifting into the cold, focused state that had made him a formidable leader. When he stepped into the arena tunnel, the roar of the crowd washing over him, he felt the familiar calm descend.
His opponent was larger, more experienced, clearly confident in his chances against the "first-time competitor.
" What he didn't know was that he was facing an Alpha tiger shifter whose mate had just been attacked, whose protective instincts had been triggered, and whose need for dominance and violence had been unleashed.
The fight was over in less than three minutes.
Adrian moved like liquid death, every strike precise and devastating. His opponent never had a chance to establish rhythm or mount any real offense. When Adrian's uppercut connected with the man's jaw, sending him crashing to the mat unconscious, the arena erupted in shocked cheers.
The referee raised Adrian's arm, declaring him the winner by knockout in the first round, but Adrian barely heard the announcement. He was already moving toward the exit, his mind focused on only one thing—getting to his injured mate.
The truck keys felt heavy in his hand as he ran through the arena parking garage, his heart pounding not from exertion but from the desperate need to see Riley, to hold her, to make sure she was safe. The engine roared to life, and Adrian pulled out into Philadelphia traffic with singular focus.
Darius had crossed a line. And Adrian was going to make him regret it.