Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty Seven
Isaac
Three months later…
Sweat drips down my back, making my skin tingle from the moisture.
The crowd roars around me, the lights blinding me with their brightness.
Jumping lightly on my feet, I try to shake off the anxiety that seems to creep up when I least expect it.
My pulse spikes, and my hands go clammy, instantly making my mouth water with the need to purge.
I cast a quick glance over at Sledge. His lips form a tight line as his finger curls around the metal cage.
There’s only worry written all over his face.
He lifts his chin to look up at me, a silent question in his gaze. ‘You good?’
I nod, even though we both know… I’m full of shit.
There’s nothing okay about me. Or my life…
. not right now. My chest tightens, making it impossible for me to breathe.
My heart races the way it does before a fight, except this time it’s not my opponent that’s messing with my head.
It’s my memories. The hospital. The basement.
The blood. The sound of Veronica’s screams as she cried into my shirt, soaking me with her tears and grief.
The way her entire body shook as sobs wracked through her body when the doctors told us the news.
So much loss. I didn’t understand. Why? Why us… Why her?
I roll my neck, trying to crack the tension building deep in my muscles.
No use, of course, there’s no escaping something that’s engraved deep into your psyche.
It seems the harder I try to stay here. The memory of that night tries to pull me deeper, dragging me into a hellscape I cannot run from.
I drag in a breath through my mouthguard. ‘Focus, Isaac,’ I mutter to myself.
I need to focus. I need to breathe. Fight…
. More importantly, I need to win. For us.
For the money. Make the pain worth something.
My name spills from the speakers as the announcer calls my name and the crowd erupts again—like they’ve been starving for the violence, and I’m the slab of meat they’ve been wanting to watch bleed.
The cage door opens, metal shrieking, and I step inside—shaking my arms at my side.
The world shrinks, the sound around me grows muffled until it’s nothing but background noise.
My eyes zero in on the man across from me while I bounce on my toes, continuing to roll my shoulders.
A smirk curls on my lips as I size him up.
He looks big and hungry. Good. It means tonight it will be a good night to let loose.
I need something I can hit that won't break in front of me. Something that can handle all this pent- up rage. I promised Ronnie I would stop fighting, but I can't. It’s an addiction I chase to find relief from the pain that swallows me whole. And if I break, who will help her gather her broken pieces? I’ve become a liar.
A deceiver. Betraying my love with my silence.
All so I can spare her, a keeper of secrets, and somehow, this isn’t the worst of them.
The bell hasn’t even rung, and I’m ready to swing.
I can feel the fight coming alive inside my ribs, something feral twitching awake.
Ever since my captivity, every opponent shares the same face as Harry’s.
I don’t picture anyone but him. The source of my destruction, my violence.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Sledge gripping the cage, rattling it to catch my attention.
“Keep your head straight, Iz,” he warns as if already noticing that I’m losing it. “Don’t go dark, you hear me?”
How do I tell him? I’m already there… Never left it, actually.
Despite the mask I put on for everyone around me, the truth is…
I’m a permanent resident in that place, still chained up in a basement, even if I sell the lie that I’m free.
That I’ve moved on. My heart beats too fucking loud, my knuckles itch to connect with something breakable, and my vision tunnels.
Then, the bell rings, and with that, my restraints.
It all happens too quickly. I never even notice him begin to charge towards me, not until his fist connects with my cheek.
Sending me back a couple of steps, a throb blooming instantly at the site.
I shake it off, keeping myself straight before my fist flies towards his direction.
He ducks and lands a hit straight to my ribs, knocking the breath from my already starved lungs.
I’m not sure when I decide to give in to the pain, but every punch lands with the weight of everything, before I turn the tide.
Within seconds of giving up, I pull back just in time to avoid a direct hit and connect with his face.
My vision fades from light to dark as I deliver blow after blow, each landing with every unspoken word I can’t say to her.
I’m scared. Punch.
I love you. Punch.
I’m a liar. Punch.
I’m sorry… Punch.
The crowd screams somewhere behind me, and so does Sledge.
Blood sprays across my skin, and I barely feel the hits I take in return.
It’s complete annihilation, just the kind of violence I’ve been begging for.
It’s not until my opponent goes down hard that I realize I’m the one on top of him.
My fist hovers in the air, like a gavel ready to make its final judgment.
Ready to shatter every bone, even after the ref tries to pull me off.
“It’s done,” Sledge whispers in my ear, successfully pulling me off the man.
My body moves on autopilot as I’m dragged toward the corner.
The cuts on my face sting from the cold air.
“Snap out of it, man. I’m losing you,” Sledge mutters, placing an ice pack on the back of my neck, anchoring me to reality and not the darkness in my mind.
“This was supposed to be a quick knockout.” He points towards the commotion in the middle of the rink.
“That’s bloodshed. C’mon, man, I told you it was too soon. ”
Too soon….
Those words. I’ve grown to hate them, along with ‘it takes time.’ When will the time be right?
Was it right when I woke up in the middle of the night to Veronica screaming, everyone scrambling towards our room?
Only for me to choke when I look down at the blood pooling between her legs.
The look on her mom’s face when she realized what was happening?
Or how Nixie cried alone in a corner as we all focused on Ronnie.
“Go home, Iz, get some rest, brother.”
I don’t respond. There’s nothing I can say that will counter the truth of his words.
All I do is shrug him off and mindlessly walk towards the locker rooms, and pull out my phone.
Disappointment washes over me when I see all the missed calls.
All from Ronnie, who by now should know where I’m at.
And by the looks of the messages on my screen.
She’s mad…
Resting my forehead on the cool metal, I let the sensation simmer down my heated skin.
Silly of me to think that the hardest things we would endure were that fucking basement.
How fucking under prepared I was—am—for everything that has happened and is still going on.
How can I help the woman I love when I can’t even help myself?
I can’t save her from anything because I can’t even save her from the inevitable truth that will tear us apart.
I let out a shaky exhale before getting ready and heading out the door.
By the time I pull into the dark and wet parking lot, the adrenaline from tonight has completely worn off.
Enough to make my legs feel like lead, and my ribs ache with every breath I take.
Each step feels like I’m dragging my feet through quicksand, the night is cold, and the leftover residue of rain lingers in the air.
It takes what feels like forever to walk up the stairs and down the hall before I stop right in front of my door, insert the key into the slot, and turn it.
Using my shoulder, I push the door open, ready to collapse and drown in the silence of the night.
When a figure emerges from the shadows.
Ronnie.
My girl silently rises from my couch, her hands clasped so tightly in front of her.
I shut the door softly behind me, making sure to lock the button and focus my attention on her.
The second our eyes lock, she grimaces at the sight of me.
Taking in all the bruises already forming along my jaw, the split lip, and the blood drying from the cuts on the bridge of my nose and cheek.
She walks towards me so fast, I barely manage to blink, let alone get a word out.
“Where the hell were you?” she asks, her voice low and trembling with anger, knowing I lied to her once again.
“Ronni–”
The slap cracks across my face before I can finish, and hints of blood sprinkle into my mouth from the hit. It wasn’t soft. My girl didn’t even hesitate. That hit was a full, open-handed strike fueled by betrayal and grief. Her perfect blend of flavors seems to get me every time.
“You lied to me!” she chokes out. “Again. You promised, Isaac, you promised you were done.” Her voice breaks completely, her hands digging into her wavy strands. “How could you do this to me? After everything?”
I swallow hard, unsure of what to say. It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually found the right things to say to her.
Things are just so fucked up now. So, I stand there quietly watching as my heart falls apart.
She sobs into the palms of her hands, the sound destroying me more than any physical blow.