Chapter 15 Willow
WILLOW
Worry turns my stomach inside out.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I don’t want to see Malice fight again. He came out of the first bout okay, but he did take a couple of really hard hits. There’s already a nasty bruise darkening on his face, a cut above his eye, and a trickle of blood sliding from one of his nostrils.
The other guy looks much, much worse, but the moment of relief I had at this all being over is well and truly shattered as fear and adrenaline start pumping through my veins all over again.
Two guys come out and help Malice’s first opponent to his feet, basically dragging him out of the ring as he shuffles along.
The announcer says something that I don’t hear over the roaring in my ears, and I watch Malice’s jaw tighten. My gaze flicks to Ransom and Vic in time to see them exchange a glance, and then the next fighter enters the ring.
He’s close to Malice’s size, with hard eyes, and Malice looks him over as if he’s trying to gauge his weak points.
This man is bigger than Malice’s first opponent, but I hope that means he’ll be slower too.
Then it will just be brute force against brute force, and I have to believe that Malice can come out on top again in that situation.
I’m just starting to talk myself down from my initial panic, taking a few deep breaths to steady myself… when another man walks out into the ring.
I blink, my brows drawing together. What the fuck? What is he doing?
The second man comes to a stop beside the first one, the two of them standing side by side as they face Malice, and the implications slam into me.
It’s not going to be a two-way fight, or even a three-way fight.
It’s going to be two against one.
“What the hell? He has to fight them both?” I leap up from my seat and round on Troy, furious and terrified. My heart slams in my chest, and I want nothing more than to smack the self-satisfied look off his face.
“What is the meaning of this?” Olivia demands, also sounding upset. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
Troy just shrugs, still smirking. “Don’t look at me.
It’s the rules of this place. The undefeated fighter has to take on two new fighters if he wants to continue in the ring.
If you didn’t know that, that’s on you.” Olivia bristles, but Troy doesn’t back down.
“But if you want, we can call the deal off entirely…?”
She presses her lips together into a thin line, clearly considering her options here.
“No,” she finally says.
Troy nods and settles in, looking like he couldn’t be more pleased.
I ball my hands into fists at my side, trying to make myself breathe evenly so I don’t fall into a full-blown panic attack.
My stomach churns with worry, and anger burns through me like fire.
Anger at Troy for being such a slimy, manipulative piece of shit, and at Olivia for putting us in this situation in the first place.
Troy’s a fucking cheater, but Olivia is the one who signed Malice up for this, and now he has to fight two men—who, unlike him, didn’t just finish another bout and are fresh and uninjured.
The announcer calls the start, and the crowd goes wild, everyone in the stands screaming and hollering as if they’re losing their minds. I step closer to the glass, holding my breath as the new bout begins.
Malice stands loosely, dressed in athletic pants and a tank top. His scars and tattoos are on full display, his muscled arms gleaming with a sheen of sweat. For a moment, he and his two opponents continue to size each other up—and then all three of them move.
The men both lunge in at once, and Malice ducks and twists out of the way of their fists, managing to clip one of them with a punch as he slips away. But it’s a glancing blow, not hard enough to do the kind of damage he’ll need to.
It’s not like the first fight, where it felt even until Malice got the upper hand. This is a bit more of a free-for-all, the two opponents trying to take opportunities to get at Malice where they think they can.
The two men might both be trying to take him out, but it’s clear they’ve never fought as a team before.
Their attacks are uncoordinated, and Malice uses that to his advantage.
They both lunge at the same time again, and Malice elbows the bigger one in the throat, making him stumble back and get in the way of the other man.
He uses that as a distraction to sweep the first guy’s legs out from under him and gets in a few good hits before he has to dart back, out of the reach of number two.
His skill is clear to see, and even though he’s breathing hard, his eyes look clear from here, as if he’s channeling his anger and strength into every hit he can land.
Just watching the way he moves is breathtaking, and I wonder what it says about me that I find him mesmerizing and oddly beautiful like this. I can’t look away.
The fight continues, Malice holding his own while his opponents seem to almost work against each other, giving him the upper hand. But it doesn’t take long for that to shift, and they seem to realize that working together is the best way to come out on top.
There’s no moment of agreement that I can see, but they stop getting in each other’s way so much and start focusing on teamwork.
One of them darts in, ready to crack Malice across the jaw, and when Malice blocks that hit and dodges back, the other one is ready with a hit of his own, knocking Malice back.
Malice wipes a smear of blood from his face and launches himself back in, but he can’t seem to make much headway. No matter what he does, there’s always one of them waiting in the wings to knock him back.
He takes heavy punches to the face, to the stomach, to the chest. He manages to block some of them, but most of them connect with horrible cracking sounds as he starts to get overpowered.
When he stumbles, they press their advantage, lighting into him and making him drop down to one knee on the ground.
His chest heaves, and his shirt is stained with blood and sweat. The crowd is screaming, stomping on the floor, demanding to see more.
It’s clear that they don’t care who wins, they’re just here for the spectacle.
“Get up,” I whisper, my hands curling into fists as I stare down at Malice. “Come on. You can do it.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Troy says gleefully, stepping up beside me. “He’s done for now.”
Olivia makes a noncommittal noise, but she leans forward in her seat on my other side, watching intently. Distantly, I wonder if she’s going to work out some punishment for the brothers if Malice loses this match.
But thinking about that makes me feel sick, so I push the thought to the side, focusing again on the fight.
The two opponents clearly smell victory, and they step toward Malice, ready to finish the job. Malice’s head is hanging down, and he looks defeated, which makes my heart stop for a second.
But as they close in on him, he moves, almost too fast to track. He grabs the leg of the guy nearest to him, yanking hard and bringing him down in a heap. There’s a loud crack as his head hits the ground, and the crowd oooooooh’s in sympathy.
The man is dazed, and that’s enough for Malice to lunge in and drive his knee down into the guy’s windpipe, leaving him wheezing and passed out on the ground.
“Fucker,” I hear the other one grunt, and Malice’s head snaps to him. He looks so tired, but he’s not done. He surges up, fury snapping in those stormy eyes.
The last opponent tries to block him, but he’s not ready for the force Malice hits him with. Malice punches him so hard in the jaw that I’m almost positive the crunching sound is bone breaking, and then he grabs the man’s wrist, wrenching his arm back and probably dislocating it from the socket.
The man howls in pain and crumples to the ground, leaving Malice the only one standing, breathing hard and dripping blood onto the floor. The referee calls out a five-count, giving both of Malice’s opponents a chance to get back up… but neither of them do.
As the count ends, the crowd explodes, screaming and cheering. I can just make out the announcer declaring Malice the winner over the noise.
In the chaos, Malice turns and limps his way out of the ring, and Olivia stands up primly and faces Troy, looking pleased and sure of herself.
“Well, I believe that settles things fully?” she says, arching one finely plucked brow. “The terms are set. The engagement party will be soon, and then the wedding will follow a week after.”
Troy makes a sour expression, glaring at Olivia as much as he dares. Then he shrugs and steps closer to me. Transferring his focus from my grandmother’s face to mine, he leers down at me, using one arm to pull me tight against his body as his other hand trails down my side.
“Oh, well,” he says, vindictive heat flashing in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure to get my money’s worth out of you when you’re my wife.”
He says it loud enough that Olivia can hear, but the words are meant for me.
I shudder in disgust, ripping myself away from him as his hand slides over my ass. He snorts a laugh and then stalks out of the room, leaving me alone with Olivia.
Instead of commenting on what just happened, she pulls the scarf over her hair again and then gestures sharply with one hand.
“Follow me,” she says, and I obey.
We head back downstairs, but instead of retracing our steps to the entrance we came in through, we walk down a dingy hall. When we reach the end of it, she pushes a door open, leading us into a small locker room.
It’s empty, except for where Malice sits on one of the benches, sweaty, bruised, and bloody. The bruise on the side of his face looks much worse up close, and I know he’s likely going to have more littering his body.
He looks up when we step into the room, and when he sees me standing behind Olivia, his eyes flash with something I can’t identify. I have no idea what he’s thinking right now, but it’s pretty clear he didn’t know I would be watching his fights.
After a second, he jerks his gaze away from me to glare at Olivia. “What the fuck was that?” he snarls. “When we got the job, X failed to mention there would be more than one fight tonight.”
Olivia shrugs one shoulder, seeming unbothered. “Well, that’s because there wasn’t supposed to be. It was an… unexpected development. But I knew you could do it.”
Malice snorts, rolling his eyes. “Not my first rodeo,” he mutters.
She smiles. “Yes, I’m aware. Your time in prison prepared you well for this kind of thing, didn’t it? You aren’t unused to being outnumbered or thinking on your feet.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me glance over at her, and Malice must hear it too, because his head snaps up.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he demands.
“It means that I know you’ve been ganged up on before.
Quite literally, in fact. How many men forced themselves on you when you were in prison?
I know you were raped by at least one, but was it more than that?
And you survived and then came back to kill their leader, making his gang back off.
I knew you were the type to fight against the odds, which is why I chose you for this assignment instead of one of your brothers. ”
Malice stiffens, his jaw going tight and his shoulders bunching.
He doesn’t meet my eyes, staring at Olivia like he wishes he could pick her up and break her in half.
My grandmother doesn’t even flinch, though.
She just smirks, as if she’s proud of herself for having learned enough of Malice’s traumatic past to use it to her advantage now.
Meanwhile, my heart is breaking for Malice and what he’s been through.
He’s told me some of what happened to him in prison, but not everything.
I knew he had been jumped by a gang, and I knew that he killed one of them and got sent to solitary for it, which is why the number twenty-four is significant to him.
But I had no idea he’d been assaulted like that.
Malice hasn’t looked away from Olivia, and I brace myself for what she might say next, and what he might do when she says it, but then her phone starts ringing in her bag.
My grandmother sighs and pulls it out, and her face twists into a look of annoyance when she sees who it is.
“Troy,” she mutters. “He’ll be trying to renegotiate something even now.” She cuts her gaze to me. “Honestly, I didn’t expect him to be the difficult one in all of this.”
Maybe you should be blackmailing him instead then, I think, but I keep those words locked behind my lips as she walks toward the door, looking annoyed.
“I’m going to go find Troy to put an end to this nonsense, and then we will be leaving, Willow,” she calls over her shoulder.
I don’t even respond, waiting until the clacking of her heels fades away and the door closes.
Then it’s just me and Malice left in the locker room.
Somehow, I don’t know what to say to him. After hearing what happened to him in prison, I feel like I should comfort him or do something to make sure he knows that it’s okay and I don’t think less of him or anything like that, but the words get stuck in my throat.
It must show on my face though, because when Malice finally looks at me, his face goes hard.
“Whatever the fuck you’re thinking right now, you can stop,” he snaps. “I don’t want your goddamned pity.”