Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
SOREN
My hands are wrapped, and I’m shirtless as I look out at the crowd. I don’t usually pay attention to the onlookers before a fight. I prefer my mind to be clear of anything and anyone before stepping into the ring. It’s how I drag myself back down to reality.
My father put me in boxing when I was young, and I’ve always loved it.
It was probably one of the only good things he ever did for me before he died.
All that pent-up aggression I had from losing him and my mother had to be sourced somewhere, and being left to raise my sick sister had to be let out somewhere.
It just so happened that someone mentioned an underground fighting ring, so I went to watch and knew straightaway it was what I needed.
The following night, I asked if I could step into the ring and fight.
The guy laughed in my face. Sure, I was tall enough, but I didn’t have the body of a fighter—too lean, too hollow from skipping meals.
Our parents hadn’t left us with a damn thing.
Even though growing up, we had money, it seems they owed a lot of people, so it was on me to find work wherever I could, scraping together cash just to keep us afloat.
People are always surprised when they hear that part of my story because my grandparents were very wealthy.
But my father blew it all on alcohol and gambling until there was nothing left but the house.
He’d gone downhill after my mother left for good.
She’d already been in and out of our lives for years before that, though.
I don’t think she ever really wanted kids, but when Maya was diagnosed with her heart condition, that was too much for her.
I looked for her after Dad passed, and it was years later that I found out that she had died too.
I kept trying to get into that ring for a solid two weeks. When I was finally allowed to fight, I got my ass handed to me. I went down within five minutes with nothing but a black eye and some broken ribs to show for it.
And then a few weeks later, I found a gym and a trainer named Terry.
He specialized in a mix of jiu-jitsu and boxing and was willing to help me.
I caught on pretty quickly, and within a month, I was back in the ring.
Of course, I got my ass handed to me again, but I lasted longer than I did the first time.
It wasn’t until my tenth fight that I actually won, and I was fucking ecstatic.
Fighting is one of my first loves, followed closely by the Forsaken.
I love both of them, each for different reasons.
The Forsaken provides a safe place for me to show my dark side that I keep hidden from the rest of the world.
And the fighting keeps my demons in check and helps me release my anger.
I have a reputation to uphold, after all, and I need to maintain at least the facade of control.
I scan the sea of faces one last time, but I don’t see the one belonging to the woman I’m looking for. So, I turn away, step into the ring, and begin a different kind of hunt, my thirst for blood no less visceral.