Chapter 13 The Fight
THIRTEEN
THE FIGHT
Rose
Rage has been in the gym training for tonight while I’ve been lying in bed, upset.
Many hours have passed and the sun has gone down, but I haven’t been able to eat or relax.
Rage has checked up on me, but there’s no point in me saying anything.
Nothing will change his mind. I get it .
. . who am I to ask him to stop fighting?
Even though we’re close and it feels like I’ve known him for years, in reality I haven’t known him long, but it physically pains me to think he’s going to get hurt.
The only positive thing about today is that I set up my business equipment in one of the club’s spare bedrooms, so it’s all ready to go.
I’m excited to tell my customers and the people who follow me that I’m back and ready to start on new orders, but my excitement has been overshadowed by everything else—the Russians, moving, Kayla, Tyler, and now the fight.
My chest aches and my brain delivers a shot of dread to my body every time I think about what-ifs, like Rage seriously getting hurt. I don’t know how to get through to him.
Knock, knock, knock.
I look over at the door and sit up. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Sophie’s beautiful face appears. “Viper said you need a friend right now, and I’m an awesome friend, even if I say so myself.”
I smile at her.
“Come on,” she walks over and grabs my hand, pulling me up. “Let’s go have a drink, shall we? Or a shot?” she offers with a naughty grin.
“Okay,” I drawl. “Just one.”
She snorts. “I thought you’d want to get smashed.”
I follow her downstairs to where Ava, Elena, Ivy, and Milly are, by the bar. They all look up at me and smile.
When I reach them, Milly passes me a red drink. “It’s vodka and raspberry.”
I take it from her. “Thank you.” I have a sip and sit on a stool. Ava is on one side of me, and Sophie takes a seat on the other.
“Where’s Zara?” I ask the group.
“She’s in bed early,” Elena replies.
“How are you doing?” Ava asks with sympathy in her eyes.
I take another large gulp of my drink.
Sophie chuckles. “Not good, I’m guessing.”
“It’s been a rough day . . .” My breath catches. “And now I have to wait around while the person I care about gets hurt.”
The men walk inside and congregate by the front door.
My heart pounds. Rage’s face falls when he sees me, so I know it’s time for him to leave.
He’s wearing silky black shorts, his god-like, sculpted body on display, but all I want to do is cover him up with a shirt and drag him to bed, away from the fights, the violence, the hurt.
Anxiety pulses through me as he makes his way over and wraps his arms around me. “I won’t be long, and I’ll be fine. Twitch will be here with you and the other women.”
He doesn’t know he’ll be fine. I’m choked up, so all I can do is nod in return. I feel everyone’s eyes on me as he kisses my cheek. My stomach knots tightly as the men leave.
“Rage usually ends up with bruises and cuts,” says Milly. “He had a fractured rib a few years ago, but that’s the worst of it. It always looks worse than it is. People have been knocked out, and yeah, they bleed, but the club wouldn’t let it get too out of hand.”
Her words only make me feel worse. “Rage thinks he owes the club, and he’s so devoted he doesn’t want to let anyone down, but I feel nauseous even thinking he could get hurt.” I rub the base of my neck. “One bruise is too many.” I’m met with silence and cringes.
“I understand, and I wouldn’t agree with Viper if he did it. But . . . you can’t force him to stop or see reason if you’ve already talked to him about it. Rage thrives on the fights. He enjoys it.”
I was not expecting Sophie to throw the truth in my face, but I consider her words and drink the remainder of my drink. Sophie and Milly offer me more, but I decline.
“Did you hear the sweet butts found a house? They’re officially moving out,” says Elena.
“The last two girls are nice. The rest”—Ava cringes—“were not.”
“There’s only Cash left, and he’s nice to them, but it’s clear he doesn’t see them as ol’ ladies,” Sophie adds.
I keep quiet as the hours pass. I occasionally tune in to their conversations, then my mind takes over and I think about Rage. Ava asks if I’m okay, but I just keep telling her I’m fine, even if I feel anything but. Eventually Ava, Elena, and Ivy go to bed.
I glance down at my phone. It’s 10:50 p.m. My heart beats faster. It’s nearly time.
“I’m off to bed, you two,” Milly says. That leaves just Sophie and me.
“Bye, babe,” Sophie replies. She waits until Milly leaves, then turns toward me. “Do you want to see Rage fight tonight?”
I gasp in surprise.
“I haven’t drunk anything for hours because I wanted to check with you. I can drive. It’s only five minutes down the road.”
My eyes still bulge in disbelief. “I . . . I . . . I’m scared, and I don’t know if me being there will make it worse for Rage.”
She shrugs, her expression calm but firm.
“I think you two need a dose of reality,” she says bluntly.
“We can stay at the back, have a few of the MC men with us for safety, and keep hidden so Rage doesn’t see us.
I like Rage. He’s a good guy, and you seem like a nice girl.
But there’s no point in avoiding the inevitable. ”
Her words hit like a truth I’ve been avoiding.
She winces. “I don’t want to upset you—I just want to remind you that he’s a biker.
” She chuckles uncomfortably. “You can’t separate the violence from them.
They protect with everything they have. They’re only violent when threatened or in the ring, but they’ll do whatever is necessary.
” She pauses and raises a brow. “The other women won’t tell you because they’re scared of upsetting you, but I need to be honest because Rage is a friend, and I’d hate for him to be heartbroken when you eventually realize you can’t accept his way of life or who he is. ”
I raise a hand, stopping her. “No, it’s not that I don’t accept who he is.
I think he hasn’t coped in a healthy way for a long time, using violence as a means of letting out his anger.
I care for him, and I don’t want him to get hurt trying to prove himself.
He’s an amazing person, and I just want him safe.
” I pause, swallowing through the tightness in my throat before I continue.
“I’ve been through domestic violence, and the violence triggers me. ”
Rage said it himself. He’ll always protect me, and that’s why I didn’t get too upset at him today when he pushed that man. He saw me stressed and reacted. I wish he wouldn’t snap like that, but he calmed down quickly and came straight toward me to check if I was okay.
She smiles, and it throws me off. “It makes me happy that you really like him. Now come to the fight and support him, or just be there for him, so he doesn’t worry about coming home and upsetting you.
The fights stink, they’re bloody, the men are gross and feral. ” A look of disgust crosses her face.
“So you’ve been before?” I ask, surprised. I didn’t know the women went to them.
She nods. “Once.” She peers down at her phone. “But if you want to go, we better leave now. You need to determine where your limit is.”
I exhale, though it does nothing to ease the tension. “Okay, let’s go.” But my body is repelled by the idea. It’s not that I’m unwilling to support him. I do want to, and I would in anything he did . . . but I struggle with the fighting.
I follow Sophie outside, the cool air hitting my face as we approach her flashy sports car.
Once I get in, I smell leather and faint traces of her perfume.
She grips the wheel, her manicured nails tapping lightly against it, and then we’re off.
I hold on to my churning stomach. The small potholes are not helping at all.
It isn’t long until we reach the warehouse. Even in the darkness it looks run-down. The lights are on inside, and the parking lot is full of cars.
Sophie drives around and parks right out front next to the club’s bikes.
She gets out and waits for me. I hesitantly open the door.
I can hear the yelling and cheering of the men inside, and it makes me tremble.
Axle is on the speaker introducing the fighters.
As soon as he says Rage’s name, my heart breaks.
Sophie walks over, links her arm through mine, and pulls me along. “Quick, let’s go before we miss it.”
I’m stumbling over my feet, dreading every step.
We walk inside, and I’m overwhelmed. Yelling and the smell of smoke, spilled beer, and blood assaults me, making me gag.
Cash is by the door. He looks at us, and his eyes widen, then he shakes his head.
He looks disappointed, as if us being here is a bad idea, but Sophie’s demeanor hasn’t changed.
While I wrestle with the idea of leaving, Cash leads the way into the crowd. Sophie pulls me along after him.
The warehouse buzzes with the energy of the rowdy crowd.
The ring is up on a podium in the center, with bright fluorescent lights above.
Rage is standing in the middle, and it’s as if someone has punched me in the stomach and winded me, because I struggle to breathe.
His bronzed skin glistens and shows his defined, taut muscles.
He throws air punches, but it’s his eyes, which are homed in on his opponent, that are scary.
There’s nothing but pure, unadulterated fury behind them. Goosebumps travel up my arms.
The hulking Russian, with his barrel chest and huge, steroid-enhanced arms, looks at Rage with a small, amused smirk. Sophie yanks me forward, and I hear the bell ring as we weave through the crowd.