Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isla
I settled into the plush leather seat of the VIP box, Adrian’s ribbon tangled between my fingertips as cheering swallowed the world beyond the glass.
The arena below us vibrated with thousands of fans screaming, camera flashes popping like stars, and commentators gesturing wildly at the edge of the ring.
Beside me, Estelle looked like she’d been born into this life: elegant, comfortable, her hand draped across the expanse of Jax’s thigh like she owned him.
She leaned in, her voice velvet over the crowd’s roar. “First time at a real fight?
I nodded. “I’ve only ever seen bits and pieces on TV.”
Sierra, perfectly content in Connor’s absurdly big lap, laughed, the sound relaxed and easy, even as half the muscles in Connor’s arm bulged around her. “Nothing compares to seeing it live.”
Connor's expression remained stoic, but his hand moved to stroke Sierra's hair .
“Adrian’s different in the ring,” he warned, voice low, but oddly gentle when aimed at us.
"Different how?" I asked, a flutter of nerves and excitement blossoming in my stomach. I wanted to see Adrian unfiltered, to see all of him.
Estelle sidled closer, crooking a finger to beckon me in like we were sharing secrets. “The guys lose their minds out there… But it’s sort of glorious. You’ll see.”
Jax grinned, rogue-bright, draping his arm across Estelle's shoulders, fingers playing with her hair.
“He’s crazy in there. Our little puppy’s got fangs, believe me.”
“‘Little puppy’ isn't the name I'd use," Connor muttered.
The girls collectively ignored him.
“You’ll love it,” Sierra smiled. “It’s the best show you’ll ever see.”
I glanced sideways at these women, my true friends, now. Chaos loved company, apparently.
I felt a brief pang, thinking of Tracy and Bailey—how every joke, every night out with them had eventually turned sharp, competitive.
“You’re too much, Isla.”
“Don’t post that, you’ll scare away brands.”
“You should work out more.”
Before their careers imploded, they always made me second-guess myself, but here, with these girls, I felt… accepted.
Not a single piece of me was too boring or soft. There was nothing to hide. The difference was a balm I hadn’t even known I needed.
The lights dimmed suddenly, and my excitement grew as spotlights began to dance across the arena.
A booming voice announced the first fighter, some challenger from the West Coast, whose statistics flashed across the massive screens. The crowd's response was polite but measured.
Then the announcer's voice shifted, growing deeper, more dramatic: "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the undefeated feral hound… ADRIAN THE ‘CATALYST'!"
The arena erupted into a hurricane of sound. Bass-heavy entrance music pounded through the speakers as strobe lights flashed in hypnotic patterns.
And then he appeared.
My Adrian strode toward the ring in nothing but neon green-and-black fight shorts, hugging every muscle, his skin a tapestry of ink and muscle.
If he looked wild by the fire, here he looked mythic, a walking riot, coiled strength and violence, his eyes burning up at our box like I was the only person in the world.
For a second, that goofy grin I woke up to every morning was back, the one he saved for pillow talk, shopping, my family.
Then it vanished, replaced by a stare so cold and focused I barely recognized him.
"Oh my god," I whispered, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yeah.” Sierra’s giggle was pure empathy. “Wait till he wins a knockout. You’ll get dizzy.”
Jax leaned forward, his eyes tracking Adrian's movement with assessment. "He's locked in tonight. Just don’t forget to breathe.”
I watched Adrian climb into the ring and instinctively took a deep breath like Jax said.
He bounced from foot to foot, rolling his head and shoulders as the coach yelled things.
When he turned toward our box, I instinctively pressed my hand against the glass.
"Can he see us?" I asked, suddenly desperate for connection.
"Yes," all four of them answered in unison.
The bell rang, and everything changed.
Adrian moved like nothing I'd ever seen, pure carnage in motion, feet gliding on the canvas, head rolling, fists snapping out like whips.
His opponent was good, a solid fighter with seemingly quick hands, but Adrian was something else entirely.
This wasn’t sport. It was a wild, gorgeous kind of war.
“Woah,” I breathed as Adrian landed a combination that sent his opponent crashing into the ropes .
“He’s not normal,” Connor mused. He pulled Sierra closer as blood spewed from the opponent.
Even so, I couldn’t look away.
All I could see was the raw power in every move Adrian made. Sweat glistened on his tattooed torso, highlighting each ripple of muscle as he dodged a wild swing.
Estelle leaned in, voice low and delighted. “Which of his tattoos are your favorites?”
Sierra fanned herself dramatically. “He has so many! Can you even choose?”
Connor nearly growled, his hand taking a possessive grip on her thigh that had her going quiet and me giggling.
Jax’s eyebrow cocked, and he hauled Estelle into his lap, lifting his own shirt to show tanned abs glimmering from the lights. “I’ve got plenty to admire right here.”
I doubled over laughing as Connor rolled his eyes and, not to be outdone, flexed his biceps by Sierra’s face. Her eyes danced.
“You all have issues,” I laughed, and both guys shot me a look that was half pride, half challenge.
“They’re idiots,” Estelle nodded to me, eyes bright. “But they’re our idiots.”
I couldn't help the huge smile from their display. The most dangerous men I'd met, world-class boxers with fearsome reputations, competing for attention like peacocks at a mating dance.
"Now I understand why you're all friends," I said, shaking my head. "Three of the world's most lethal fighters, and you're all just overgrown, possessive puppies with tattoos."
The girls dissolved into giggles while the men exchanged looks that were half offense, half pride this time.
Below, the next round unfolded like a violent dance. Adrian landed a vicious body shot that made his opponent grimace, followed by an ‘uppercut’ that snapped the man's head back.
“Is he supposed to have this much fun?” I asked, voice more breathy than I meant .
“They love this,” Sierra promised, eyes sparkling. “It’s how they prove they’re alive.”
“It’s violent, but it’s their thing,” Estelle supplied, finally tugging Jax’s shirt down. “You’ll get used to thinking he looks hot covered in someone else’s blood.”
I felt my face go red, and immediately, both girls broke into fits of laughter.
The next round started with Adrian clearly dominating, barely touched, while his opponent looked… pretty bad.
“Oh, he's definitely showing off now," Estelle said, nudging me gently. "Look at that strut."
"He'll finish it this round," Connor predicted as the bell rang again. "Watch his right hand."
Adrian’s movements became sharper, more precise, and I could sense the change in energy even from our elevated position.
"Here it comes," Jax murmured, leaning forward slightly.
Adrian moved low, drawing his opponent's guard down, then threw a hit so hard, my own hand flew to my mouth.
The arena held its collective breath as the challenger crumpled to the canvas in what seemed like slow motion.
Adrian had won by knockout.
He just stood there for a second, chest heaving, sweat and blood running down his tattooed torso like war paint.
Then he waved to the crowd, raised his arms, but didn’t break into a smile until he found my eyes in the VIP box.
Even from a distance, I could see the wild adrenaline, the sheer life force that radiated from him.
"That," Jax said with satisfaction, "was textbook Catalyst."
I sat back, slightly dazed by what I'd witnessed. The sheer controlled violence, the grace, the power, it was like watching a force of nature contained in human form.
“Welcome to the family,” Estelle said softly, linking her arm with mine .
Sierra squeezed my other hand, her face soft and proud. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
Connor's hand gently squeezed Sierra's waist, a silent acknowledgment of her words. Jax nodded, pressing a kiss to Estelle's temple.
"Adrian will be up soon," Jax said, checking his watch. "After the post-fight medical check and press."
"And then what?" I asked, still watching as Adrian exited the ring, surrounded by his team.
The three of them exchanged a look I couldn't quite interpret before Sierra answered with a bright smile. "Then we celebrate. It's tradition for his fights.”