Saving Stella: Lone Wolf Generations Book 4

Prologue

Las Vegas, Nevada

Six years ago…

Just breathe.

Right before his first professional MMA fight, Cliff Forrest had been so nervous that he nearly passed out. The nerves, combined with the glare of the hot lights, the roar of the crowd, and the anticipation building inside him made him forget to inhale life-giving oxygen. Thankfully, his father had been beside him that moment and said those two words to Cliff.

Just breathe, son, Connor Forrest had said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

That had been seven years ago, the very first time he stepped into the cage at the age of nineteen. He’d been doing martial arts most of his life, starting with judo lessons at the age of seven, then karate at nine, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu when he turned ten. Of course, it wasn’t until he was twelve that his love of fighting snapped into place.

Puberty was the time when Lycans like him began to manifest their inner wolves. During this period, all Lycans had to undergo training to control their animals. Cliff wasn’t quite sure why—perhaps it was the discipline and determination he learned when he was exposed to martial arts—but everything about being a Lycan came naturally to him. In the first week of training, he was already shifting into his Lycan form at will and tangling with adult wolves twice his size. It was as if his inner animal came to him fully formed, aware of what they were—an unstoppable fighting machine.

His Uncle Jackson, who ran the training camp at his ranch in West Virginia, was the first to notice this and told Cliff’s father about his potential. Initially, Connor had been reluctant to continue his training, but Uncle Jackson had convinced him to let Cliff learn to use his gifts.

A few years later when Cliff wanted to go pro, he turned to both of them for advice. Obviously, as a Lycan, he would have the advantage over his human opponents—he was stronger, faster, and he could heal quicker. People might start to notice if Cliff won too many fights or if his wounds disappeared too quickly.

And so, Cliff and Connor had helped him find a way to reverse his training—to hold back his wolf temporarily during a fight. Sure, Cliff felt more exhausted, and yes, he did lose a few fights, but his natural skill, plus his towering height and bulk, had him quickly rising through the ranks of the professionals. The accelerated healing he couldn’t do anything about, but it was nothing a bit of makeup and staying away from public for a few days couldn’t fix.

And now, seven years after that first fight, here he was, defending the Federation of MMA Championship belt. He’d held it for two years now and was about to go into another championship fight of his career. The record in the league was over five years, and Cliff planned to beat that by at least one year before he retired. It was a promise he made to his uncle and father, as they didn’t want any undue attention on him and their kind, which might compromise their secret. For hundreds of years, humans had been blissfully unaware that creatures who could turn into giant wolves walked among them, and this secret kept them safe. Cliff wasn’t going to risk the lives of his family and his clan just because he wanted to brawl in the cage for fame and fortune.

Just breathe, he repeated like a mantra. Breathe.

Grabbing the wraps from his gym bag, he began to wind them around his hands. He had about thirty minutes before he was due to make his way to the cage, and his team—including his coach, assistants, and manager—left him alone. Athletes could be peculiar about their pre-game rituals, so they knew he needed these last few moments to himself. While he did use this time to prepare mentally for the fight, he also used it to put his wolf away. He visualized himself kneeling down and gently patting his wolf’s head.

That’s it, he said soothingly to his animal. Just take a nap. You can wake up later.

The wolf obediently closed its eyes.

Certainly, this wasn’t the biggest fight of Cliff’s career, but the promoters had built up so much hype around it that the bets were going through the roof. Physically, he and his opponent—George Alvarez—were evenly matched, though Cliff had more experience so the odds were still in his favor. Alvarez was an upstart and a few years younger than him, brash and confident, but from what he had seen from his fights, still green and raw. Alvarez made many mistakes amateurs made, so it would be quite a dramatic defeat if Cliff lost.

Not that he was planning to lose.

After finishing his wraps, he grabbed his phone from the locker and unlocked the device, his thumb immediately tapping on the message icon to send his fiancée, Madelyn a text.

Hey babe, where are you?

I thought you were coming by to give me a good luck kiss? kiss emoji>

He frowned as seconds passed without a reply. There wasn’t even the familiar three dots appearing on the screen indicating Madelyn was typing back.

Huh.

As an influencer/model, Madelyn was glued to her phone twenty-four seven, and she always replied to his messages right away. The last message she had sent him was from three hours ago—a photo from the balcony of their suite, overlooking the glittering lights of The Strip. She was wearing one of those sexy wrap dresses that clung to her every curve and skimmed over her flat stomach while showing off her long legs.

Though they’d only met a year ago, Cliff was sure she was the one. Initially, he’d asked her out because she was stunning, but also, she had hundreds of thousands of followers on her social media accounts, which would boost his own profile. Like him, she had ambition and worked hard to achieve her goals, never letting anything stand in her way. While already a social media success, she had her eye on starring in her own reality show. They were making headlines wherever they went, at least here in Vegas. Combined, they had followers in the millions, and the count skyrocketed when Cliff popped the question a month ago.

He’d had a lot of casual flings and one-night stands over the years, but in Madelyn, he found an equal. Their relationship was more than just a business decision. Madelyn was truly a knockout in every way, and in her, Cliff found his match—not just in public, but also in private, as she was the one person who could match his sexual appetites and needs—even the darker ones he couldn’t reveal to his casual partners for fear of scaring them away. Madelyn made him want her in ways he never even knew he could want a woman.

Irritation poked at him as she failed to answer his texts. He dialed her number, but the call was immediately dropped.

Maybe her battery ran out.

She had been complaining that her phone’s charge drained quickly these days and had been hinting that she’d like him to buy her a new one. Well, if tonight’s bout turned his way, he could certainly afford to buy her a hundred new phones.

He glanced at the clock over the door—fifteen minutes to go. He couldn’t wait for her any longer. He had a championship belt to defend.

Taking another deep breath, he closed his eyes, clearing his mind as he mentally prepped for the fight. He was in the middle of visualizing Alvarez’s moves he’d memorized from watching his previous fights when the creaking sound from the door opening broke his concentration.

“What the fuck—Madelyn?”

His fiancée stumbled into the dressing room, her usually perfect blonde hair disheveled and the left strap of her dress torn, tears running down her cheeks. Rage surged in Cliff as he shot to his feet, but before he could rush to her, three men hurried inside, one of them quickly grabbing Madelyn by the waist.

“Freeze,” one of them ordered, “or she gets it.”

Even without his enhanced hearing, Cliff didn’t miss the sound of the cocking of a gun. The one who held Madelyn had the weapon pointed at her temple.

Cliff froze, fear gripping him like a vice. “Let her go. What do you want? Money?”

One of them—a short, older man chomping on a cigar—stepped forward and smirked at him. “Now you’re talking our language.”

Why does he look familiar? Cliff searched his mind, trying to recall where he had seen him before. “I don’t have any on me right now. But I can call the bank and?—”

“Oh no, Cliff,” the man tsked. “We want cash, but not whatever measly balance you have in your bank account.”

He swallowed, his gaze darting over to Madelyn, her face was filled with fear. “Whatever you want. I’ll find a way to come up with the money. I’ll do anything, please. Just let her go.” For a moment, he considered calling his wolf back, but that would take too much time. He wouldn’t be able to shift before the man holding Madelyn pulled the trigger.

The man’s mouth spread into a smile as he took the cigar out of his mouth. “Oh, you’ll be doing what I want, all right.” He snapped his fingers at Cliff. “And what I want is for you to lose tonight..”

Lose—“No.” He’d worked too damned hard for this. “I’ll do anything but that.”

The man chomped on his cigar again then nodded his head at the man who held Madelyn, who tightened his grip on her.

“Cliff!” she cried.

“Bastard!” Cliff made a motion to lunge forward, but was blocked by the third man—a hulking behemoth who was as tall and wide as Cliff.

“Nuh-uh.” Cigar Man waggled a finger at Cliff. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Cliff curled his hands into his fists. “I swear if you hurt her, I’ll make you pay?—”

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” Cigar Man stepped forward and pointed up at Cliff. “I own this town. You can’t do anything to me.”

Cliff blinked. Now he remembered who this man was. During his first year in Vegas, his manager had pointed him out from across the room at one of the casino restaurants where they were having dinner. Cliff had been awed because the restaurant had been fully booked, but the staff came and set up a table for him and his companions. “That’s Joe Bonetti,” his manager had whispered. “You don’t want to cross that guy.”

No, he did not because Guisseppe “Joe” Bonetti was Vegas’s biggest crime boss.

It made sense now.

Millions of dollars exchanged hands during these fights. With the odds in Cliff’s favor, if he lost, anyone who bet against him would come out a big winner tonight.

“Smart one, aren’t ya?” Bonetti laughed. “Though if you really are smart, you’ll do what I tell ya. Or your pretty girl won’t be so pretty anymore.”

Madelyn let out another pained cry as the man holding her pushed the gun against her temple harder.

“Stop it!” His stomach roiled. “I … just don’t hurt her.”

Bonetti sat down on the bench and motioned to the TV screen mounted in the corner of the room which broadcasted the fight. “We’re all gonna sit here and watch and make sure you do what you’re supposed to do. But give ’em a show and wait until the last round before you go down. Do that and when you come back here, we’ll be gone and your pretty girl will be safe and sound.”

Cliff could only stare into Madelyn’s frightened face, his decision made.

But what choice did he have?

* * *

“What the fuck was that, Forrest?”

Cliff had barely stepped out of the cage before his coach, Del Williams, seized his forearm in a firm grip. “S-sorry, Del. Must be an off night.”

Del’s face scrunched up in rage. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Cliff.” Despite the cheers of the thousands of people around them, his coach’s voice boomed straight into his ears.

“I’m not.”

“I’ve been with you for four years. Four fucking years, I’ve taught you and watched every move you’ve made. You could’ve easily evaded that last hold. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you lost deliberately.”

Cliff swallowed, the blood draining from his face. He’d always been a terrible liar. Though he tried to make the loss convincing, anyone who’d followed him over the last couple of years would be suspicious. If he’d had enough time, he could have done a better job at faking it, but all he could think about during the entire fight was Madelyn.

“Cliff.” Del’s expression was deadly serious as he moved in closer, their faces centimeters apart. “You have to tell me the truth, son. Or else I can’t protect you.”

His stomach turned to stone as it dawned on him what Del was trying to say without saying it out loud. Though gambling was legal in Nevada, it was strictly regulated. If the authorities even caught a whiff of fraud, things would end badly for him.

It doesn’t matter.

This had been life and death. He would face prison time if it meant protecting Madelyn.

“Just leave me alone, okay?” Tugging his arm away from Del, Cliff brushed past his coach and the rest of his entourage. He couldn’t bear to look any of them in the eye because he knew what he would see in them—disappointment.

They don’t understand.

He managed a deep breath as the tightness in his chest loosened. Madelyn was safe. That was all he cared about.

“Madelyn!” he called as he burst into the locker room. Relief poured through him when he saw her sitting on the bench in the middle of the room, all alone. Rushing toward her, he pulled her into his arms.

“Baby … did they hurt you? Touch you?” His teeth ground together, remembering how that man had put a gun to her head.

Madelyn remained stiff in his arms, silent as the grave.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Releasing her, he cupped her delicate face in his hands and peered into her beautiful brown eyes. Any ordeal he had to face ahead, whether it was an official investigation or the loss of his career, would be worth it, now that she was no longer in danger. His father and uncle would understand, especially when they found out he did it for the woman he loved. “You’re safe now. I made sure of that.”

“I know.” She swallowed hard, then pulled his hands away from her face. “And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He frowned at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Those men took you and?—”

“No.”

“No?”

Madelyn took a deep breath. “I know you’re going to hate me, Cliff, but I did this for us. I wasn’t going to say anything, but now I just … I was thinking … I can’t lie anymore.”

What the fuck was she talking about? “Are you in shock, baby? Maybe we should bring you to the ER?—”

“I’m perfectly fine, Cliff.” She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking the wavy locks back into place, then stood up. “I didn’t tell you so you could always claim you were coerced into it if anyone ever found out. But I realized I won’t be able to keep lying to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“This was my idea.” Her expression turned impassive. “I knew you would never go for it, so I went to Mr. Bonetti. He and I were … friends before we met.”

A pressure began to build in his temples. “Friends?”

She nodded. “I went to him and asked about what would happen if you ‘lost’ the fight and someone bet big against you. After we talked about it, he offered to front the money and make sure the bets were all legal and above board.”

Cliff had heard of the expression of having one’s world tumble down around them, but this was the first time he’d actually felt what that was like. As if he could literally feel his future—both his professional and his life with Madelyn—crumbling before him.

“Oh, Cliff … just think of the money we’ll get. After Joe pays off his expenses and gets his cut?—”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he bellowed. “You’ve just ruined my career! I’ll never fight again.”

“Don’t be dramatic, of course you’ll fight again. Not that you’ll need to.” She waved a hand at him. “When we get our share of the money, you can open your own gym, like you keep talking about doing after you retire. And I can start my own production company, and I won’t have to keep going to those stupid auditions.”

His blood turned to ice in his veins. “You did this … for the money?”

“I did this for us, Cliff. So we don’t have to work so hard?—”

“You bitch!” His wolf came alive, roaring to life. “How could you?”

Terror—for real this time, not the acting she’d obviously done while she was being manhandled by Bonetti’s goons—crossed her face. “What—your eyes!”

Cliff reined in his inner animal. “I can’t fight, not anymore. People already suspect I lost on purpose! And even if nothing happened, I could never go back into the cage knowing what I did.” Del was as decent and upstanding as they come, and he would probably cooperate with the authorities if they opened an investigation into tonight’s fight. At the very least, Del would never work with him again, not after tonight.

Our integrity is the only thing we have, Del told him at the beginning of their working relationship. And once we lose it, it’s gone forever.

“I gave up everything.” His chest crumpled into itself, making it difficult to breathe. “But it didn’t matter … because I thought I was keeping you safe.”

“But the money?—”

“Shut up! I don’t care about the money!”

“Cliff—”

“Get the fuck out! I never want to see you again!”

Madelyn’s face crumpled as tears formed in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but Cliff let out a growl. She let out a squeak, then spun around and dashed out the door.

Shock began to make its way into his system, paralyzing his limbs. He heard a loud buzzing which he thought was just the blood rushing to his ears, but he realized it was his phone, which he had left on the dressing table.

Walking over, he saw his notifications blowing up, and the pit in his stomach turned into a cavernous trench. He didn’t need to look at his social media accounts or sports news websites to know what they were saying. Everyone—the entire world— knew he threw that match. There would be an investigation; the Federation would put the fight—and his entire career under a microscope. The LV Gaming Board, too, would be up his ass and turn over all his bank and financial records.

Even if they didn’t find him guilty, he would never get into the cage again. Hell, he could never show his face in Vegas ever again.

He was screwed.