Chapter 37 Rule #37 Sometimes fighting for the ones you love means ambushing an illegal fighting ring.
Julian
Lucien speeds across town, and my knee bounces in the back seat as I stare out the window nervously.
“Still won’t pick up,” Freya says at my side. Her hand is clutched in mine, and I sense the same tension radiating off her that I’m feeling myself.
It’s not that I’m worried Archer could get himself killed out there, but the thought of him being so distraught over me and what I said to him that he’s putting himself back in that dangerous environment nearly kills me.
Just the image in my head of him taking a punch makes my stomach turn.
I hate myself for the shit I said to him.
The way I acted. Protecting myself and, in turn, hurting him.
What I said to Freya was true—we are a mess. The one truly holding us together was him. The one with the darkest demons was the only one brave enough to look us in our eyes and tell us what self-absorbed, ignorant cowards we were being.
And I pushed him away.
“He’ll be fine,” Freya whispers as she clings to my arm.
“Even if he is…why would he take me back?” I mutter sadly while looking out the window.
Freya tugs on my arm. “He will, Julian. You know he will.”
Turning toward her, I stare into her warm brown eyes, admiring the way they twinkle from the city lights through the window.
Freya has such a warm heart and so much hope.
How did she end up with me? A miserable brat.
She deserves the world, and if tonight has taught me anything, it’s that I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows it.
Sliding my hand delicately along her cheek, I pull her face to mine and kiss her forehead, holding my lips to her skin so she feels how sorry I am.
“I don’t want you going in there,” I say, and she pulls away as if I’ve just slapped her.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m not going with you. We are in this together, Julian.” She squeezes my hand affectionately to get her point across.
“It could be dangerous, baby,” I whisper. “If you get hurt…”
“I won’t get hurt. Neither of you will let that happen. I trust you.”
Letting out a sigh, I worry that I might not be able to keep that promise.
Underground fighting rings aren’t exactly my scene.
I’ve never been in a fight, thrown a punch, or had to brawl another person.
But looking at her now, I know deep down I would do whatever I have to in order to keep her safe. And him.
When Lucien pulls up to the abandoned station, he turns back and looks at me with worry. “Fa?tes attention à vous, monsieur.”
“We’ll be safe, Lucien. I promise,” I reply to him as I climb out of the car with renewed purpose. “Just stay here,” I add before shutting the door.
He nods at my request.
Then I put Freya behind me as I jog toward the Métro station. There are signs surrounding the entrance and tape across the stairwell that we have to climb under. Beneath the city, the commotion of voices cheering echoes through the stairwell.
Glancing back up at Freya, I’m surprised to find that she’s not wearing an expression of fear but one of determination. She is fearlessly marching into the underbelly of a criminal fighting ring for the man she loves, and it makes my heart pound with adoration for her.
That is my woman. And I love her so much it hurts.
Mentally manifesting my own courage, I run ahead of her, hoping to find Archer spectating instead of participating. This could be as easy as finding him and convincing him to leave with us.
But when I turn the corner into the dimly lit Métro station and I see Archer standing in the middle of the crowd with bare fists drawn and blood seeping from a gash above his eye, something primal and instinctual takes over.
“Hey!” With a roaring shout, I sprint toward the circle, and when I see the fighter with the wicked smile about to throw another punch at my man, I put myself between the two.
Without thinking, I rear back my fist, but before I can, Freya puts herself between me and him. I watch in shock as she assumes a quick fighting position, leading with her left foot and slamming her own fist hard against the man’s nose.
Blood sprays, hitting me in the face and neck, while the crowd around us gasps in shock, myself included. The man stumbles backward, grabbing at his face with surprise.
My chest heaves as I draw her toward me, adrenaline coursing through my veins. When someone reaches for her, grabbing her by the arm, I throw a fist at the stranger’s jaw, making violent contact with a hate-filled sneer on my face.
When the opponent recovers and lifts his own fist as if he’s about to swing, I pull back my arm again.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Archer says, grabbing my bicep and pulling me back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
That’s when the room breaks out in pandemonium. The men standing around us suddenly look infuriated. They are shouting in various languages, mostly directing their jeers at me.
“Chopper, what is going on?” the opponent asks.
Chopper?
Someone grabs at my arm, yanking me hard as if trying to remove me from the circle, but I refuse to leave Archer’s side. When a fist suddenly careens into my face, I realize this has taken a hideous turn.
The sting and ache from the punch cause my eyes to fill with tears, and I blink through them to see Archer’s rage. He lets go of my arm long enough to grab one of the spectators by the collar and shout in his face.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” he bellows.
In the back of my mind, I think about Freya. The room has broken out in chaos, fists flying, people shouting, lights flashing. And she’s slipped out of my grasp.
Archer’s opponent, the man Freya punched, grabs me by the arm and drags me away from the squall. “We need to get you the fuck out of here.”
“Archer!” I shout.
Just then, the lights flashing through the stairwell turn blue. Everyone scatters in a panic, and I think only about Freya and Archer.
Archer’s face appears in my vision, terror-laced and frantic. “Run, Julian!”
I glance around with fear, looking for Freya, when I spot her petite form near the exit. She has her phone in her hand, and she’s waving toward us as we run for the stairs.
The man with the bloody nose is next to us as we climb the stairs in a hurry. I’ve never run so fast in my life. Spotting Lucien’s car in the distance and the approaching police down the street, the four of us sprint for the car.
Archer pulls open the door first, ushering Freya inside and me after her. His opponent climbs in the front, and Archer gets in fast.
“Go, go, go!” I shout to Lucien, who doesn’t need me to tell him. He speeds off, no questions asked.
I really do owe him.
I’m in the middle between Archer and Freya, and my face is aching intensely from the punch. Reaching up, I feel for blood but there is none, just a very sore spot under my right eye.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Archer asks, pulling my face to him. He prods at my nose to check if it’s broken. When he’s assured that it’s not, he drops his hand and barks, “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”
“We were coming to save you!” I shout back.
“Save me?” he laughs. “From my best friend?”
My jaw drops as I look at the man in the front seat, currently holding up a wad of tissues to his nose. He waves a hand as a casual greeting. Suddenly, I recognize him as the man Archer introduced us to when we watched his fight last time.
“That’s Rex?” I ask incredulously.
“You were fighting your best friend?” Freya asks, rubbing her fist and clearly as surprised as I am.
“More like losing to his best friend,” Rex adds from the front seat.
“It’s true,” Archer adds with a hint of humor.
“If you hadn’t stepped in, I would have had him on the ground with one more punch.”
Freya gasps, making Archer laugh. “I’m fine,” he says to calm her worries. “Now, start over and tell me why the fuck you two showed up and why on earth you thought it was a good idea to enter the circle.”
“I don’t know,” I bark with frustration as the adrenaline fades, leaving room for the pain to enter. “Maybe because you’re a stubborn idiot who gets himself in these idiotic fights and we had to come save you because you have a wild temper.”
My tone is all anger and irritation, even though what I’m trying to say is anything but.
“Get to the point, fancy pants,” he mutters with a smirk.
“We came to stop you and say that we’re sorry and that we love you and you never should have run off to get into another fight. You know how dangerous these things are?”
Archer scoots closer to me as I continue my rant.
His hair is a sweaty mess, and there are bruises popping up under his eyes.
His large hand grips the back of my neck as he turns me to face him.
With a devilish smile, he pulls me closer.
“Repeat that first part again.” He gazes into my eyes, those dark pools inviting me in.
“We’re sorry,” I mumble. “We love you.”
His grin evolves in a wide smile, soft lines like parentheses on his battered cheeks. “How heroic of you.”
“Let me out of here,” the man in the front seat complains as Archer leans in toward me.
“And you,” Archer says, turning toward Freya and ignoring his friend’s request. “I don’t know if I should be furious at you for coming or so fucking proud of that swing, Chef.”
“You’ve been training her well,” Rex says with a nasally whine as he prods at his nose.
“She’s a fast learner,” Archer says with a grin as he leans down to kiss her softly on the cheek. “Not to mention the strongest, smartest, most reckless girl I know.”
“Something else I must have picked up from you,” she says.
After planting a kiss on her lips, Archer turns back to me. “Now tell me why you’re sorry,” he commands.
Our faces are just inches apart as I let it all out. Every insecurity. Every fear.
“Because I pushed you away when I should have pulled you closer. Because of those awful things I said. Because I didn’t fight for us when you begged me to. Because I haven’t been taking care of myself. Because I was a shitty fucking boyfriend. And because—”
I don’t get another word out as Archer crashes his lips against mine. I don’t mind the taste of blood or the fact that we’re in a crowded car after the scariest, most intense moment of my life. I’m so grateful to have his body in my hands that I don’t mind any of it.
For him, I’d do anything.