Chapter 55 Aedan
AEDAN
This time, when we came towards each other, our fists were already raised. This time, neither of us was denying what needed to be done.
I felt this overwhelming sense of...relief. She was going to be okay. Sylvie was going to be alright.
Her first punch slammed into my forehead, hard enough to make me stagger. Good. She was going for the head, not wasting time on the body. The head would make me go down and then she could finish it.
The next punch hit my cheek and I heard something crack.
I saw the anguished look on her face and I wanted to tell her that it was okay, but she was already lashing out again.
I lifted my hands a little, to make it look good, but I made sure it hit me.
This time she got my eye and I rocked backward on my heels, pleasantly surprised at how hard she was hitting.
She was getting it over fast. That was good.
I saw her reach down and touch the pocket of her sweatpants and I wondered what she had there.
Some good luck charm, maybe, or a photo of her folks.
Then she put up her guard and came in close.
“Hit me,” she said quickly. She didn’t even have to lower her voice.
There was no way the crowd could hear anything except their own insane yelling.
“Just once. Under the chin. Make it look good.”
I glanced at Rick. Did we need to? He was still outside the ring and looked content to see her pummel me. But maybe she was right. One quick hit on her and then she’d return to me and knock me out and this whole thing would be over.
Forever.
I drew back my hand, feeling sick. Just do it. One hit. Get it over with. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too.”
I swung, aiming for her chin. An uppercut that would knock her back a little but not do any real harm.
And everything went wrong.
Just as I swung, she kicked both her legs out in the air, as if she was deliberately flopping onto her back on a trampoline. My punch, instead of making her stagger, sent her soaring through the air.
She landed hard on her back. And she didn’t get up.
The crowd fell silent.
I was on my knees beside her in a second. I didn’t know how hard she’d hit her head—the roar of the crowd had covered the sound of the impact. “Sylvie? Jesus, Sylvie?”
I checked for a pulse. I couldn’t find one. Her eyes stared up at me, fixed and unseeing.
I refused to believe it. “Sylvie?”
Then I saw how her beautiful angel’s hair was turning sticky with blood under her head. “Sylvie?!”
No response.
She was dead.