Chapter 30 #2
“Looks like your fucking pretty boyfriend is about to get what he deserves. When I found out about this fight, I never realised Killian was Killer. You are my insurance policy. He’ll be distracted, he’ll lose, and I will win big.
Now, sit the fuck down.” His friend leans over and wraps his arm around my neck, gripping me tight.
“Best do as we say.” He pulls back, but not before he grips harder, making me choke.
My eyes don’t leave Killian. I stare at him, pleading for him to be safe.
Derren’s fingers dig into my leg, holding me tight, and I swallow hard.
Panic settles into every bone of my body.
My heart races, pounding harder than the fists will rain down, trying to explode out of my chest. I know in this moment those words I spoke to Killian when I was with him last. I meant them.
It’s him, it’s always been him.
The crowd evaporates into the background. The noise stills to a silent rumble that I can feel rather than hear. I stare into that cage as they bump knuckles before taking a step back, a second before the bell rings.
Widowmaker lunges forward, and Killian dodges him, bouncing out of the way. His body relaxes, every tattoo glistens in the lights, and he looks amazing. My mouth is dry, and I’m drooling at the same time. I’m mesmerised. This man has loved me my whole life, has always put me first.
But he’s leaving.
He’s leaving me because I thought he wouldn’t measure up.
I undervalued his resilience and the way he’d looked after me.
I assumed because he was a player towards everyone else, that’s the version I would get.
But now, the way Derren is behaving and the way Killian has stepped back make me realise the decision I need to make.
I want him.
I love him, but will he forgive me?
As the bell rings. I startle, and they step toward the edge.
The cage opens, and two guys jump in, wiping them down and giving them a drink.
The other guy, Widowmaker, he’s panting, sweating.
But Killian sits there, drinking from the bottle of water, and his gaze settles on mine, and I stare at him.
His eyes burn into me. I give him the tiniest of smiles, and I mouth to him.
“I love you.”
He closes his eyes for a second, but when he opens them, he looks away, and my heart breaks a little. Have I fucked this up?
The bell rings, and they step up to each other, Widowmaker swinging as Killian effortlessly dodges blow after blow, landing his own punches, making Widowmaker grunt and gasp.
He bounces around, kicking and punching.
He’s elegant, the way his body moves, and his muscles flex, make me remember our night together—the way he took care of me, making sure my needs were met before his own.
Hypnotic. I can’t tear my eyes from him.
Everything he does is so precise. Every hit and kick he throws lands as intended.
Derren grips me tighter. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re mine. We both know he won’t want you now.” His arm wraps around my neck, and he pulls me to him. He growls into my ear. “You’re gonna pay for making me look stupid.” His grip tightens, and I wince.
He yells so loudly that it pierces the air, “Killian.” His gaze shoots to me, and mine to his.
Derren lashes out. He punches me hard in the face, and I stumble, dropping to all fours beside the cage.
My glasses are knocked clean off. Gasping for breath as the shock washes over me, I try to focus, my vision blurred and distorted.
I cough out a stuttered breath. The crowd yells as I turn, dropping onto my ass as I stare up at Killian, his gaze trained on me.
He takes a hit to the ribs, and as he doubles over, Widowmaker takes a shot and catches him in the face.
His lip splits as blood oozes out from the cut.
It’s not bad, the blood isn’t pouring, but he stares down at me regardless.
“Killian,” I gasp, pulling myself to my feet. Killian’s down on one knee, his hand resting on the mat now, his eyes bore into mine, and I shout, “I’m okay, please don’t lose. I need you.”
He gives me the tiniest nod as he rolls, just as Widowmaker crashes onto the mat.
Killian jumps to his feet, wincing. He clutches his ribs, but he dives on Widowmaker, grabbing him in some type of elaborate hold, gripping his neck and pulling back, wrapping himself around him as they grapple on the canvas.
Widowmaker’s eyes bulge as he tries to wrestle his way out of Killian’s grasp. But Killian hangs on until the bell goes, and the referee leans in and splits them apart.
I rush over to Killian as Derren launches towards me, but before he can get to me, an older man steps in between us.
I squint up at him. “Jerry?” I gasp, realising who he is, and I relax, sighing heavily. He stands as a barrier between Derren and me, and I cling to the side of the cage.
“Killian, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t leave.”
“Go with Jerry,” he snarls as his face contorts. Blood trickles from the split on his lip, and I nod. When I turn towards Jerry, Derren has stopped dead in his tracks, but the older man crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’ll pay for this, you fucking weasel,” Derren bellows over Jerry’s head, and I cower. He turns and walks back to his friends. Jerry grips my arm, and I flinch as he tugs me away from the side of the cage, away from Killian. When I try to pull back, he glares at me.
“He’s got a lot riding on this, kid. Don’t fucking destroy everything.” He pulls me harder. I lose sight of Killian when I’m yanked past two burly bouncers and pushed down a corridor. Jerry pulls me into a room out the back. “Stay here. Don’t fucking move.”
“Please,” I gasp.
“I said, don’t fucking move, Scott.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself as I step back and sit in the chair in the corner. My eyes flit around the dull, grimy room when Jerry turns on his heels and leaves me sitting there, all alone.
The roar of the crowd reaches me as tears start to roll down my sore face. Hugging myself tighter, I lift my feet onto the chair and pull myself into a hug, trying to hold everything together. The dull roar repeatedly startles me as it builds and ebbs off, leaving me terrified in the dark.