Broken Wings (Whispering Falls #5)

Prologue

Bronson

I swung my fists over and over again into his face until the ref pulled me off my opponent.

My hand was grabbed, then thrown up in victory.

I stepped forward and then helped him up off the concrete floor.

He nodded at me, then looked at his friends, who no doubt were coming to help him, and then I turned and barreled my way through the crowd.

Weekly underground fights were held in an old, abandoned warehouse.

Ignoring the slaps on my back, the chin lifts, hell, even the women who tried to shove little slips of paper at me.

Did they not see that my hands were clenched into fists?

That meant I wasn’t fucking interested.

I let out a breath as I entered the small six-by-six room that served as the locker room and headed straight for my locker.

I shook my head as the only reference to the faded green color on the doors could only be described as vomit green.

I pulled on my black hoodie and used my knuckles to wipe the blood off the corner of my mouth.

And then... I grinned.

Cause no pain meant no gain.

And I owned that match.

My gaze flickered up at the clock on the wall, and I sighed.

I had half an hour to get to my job.

Yes, it paid the bills, and then some... but fuck, was I tired of wearing steel-toe boots.

And I was also tired of being on my feet for fourteen-hour days on concrete floors.

I made my way out of the locker room while tugging the keys to my truck out of my pocket.

Just as I rounded the corner of the hall that would lead to the side door, I heard a man’s voice call out, “Bronson ‘Beast’ Adams, do you have a minute?”

I shook my head, “Gotta get to work.”

And I walked out.

***

A month later, after my fight, I heard, “Bronson ‘Beast’ Adams.”

I turned my head and eyed the man.

Close-cropped blonde hair, a bump in his nose, shorter than me, I lifted a brow, “Do I know you?”

He shook his head, then he handed me a card, “Fighters like you don’t come around very often. I want to work with you. Train you.”

And that was when I read the card as the man walked out of the concrete building.

Clutch ‘The Hammer’ Withers.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

***

And that was how my career in the Ultimate Fighting League started.

Or, in other words The Motherfucking UFL.

And after ten years in the business, I had finally made something of myself.

Now, my name is a household brand.

Now, I have more women than I know what to do with vying for any semblance of my attention.

And now... if I had just done the right thing and kept my dick in my pants, I wouldn’t be in this position.

And I damn sure wouldn’t be staring at the woman whom I had stupidly given in to after a night of one of my most brutal fights.

I stared at her.

“Say something.” She snapped.

I licked my bottom lip, “You poked holes in the condom. Didn’t you?”

She gasped, “Bronson!”

I didn’t respond.

I just stared at her.

In that shrill tone of hers I fucking hated, she snapped, “Honestly, is this what you really think of me?”

I didn’t reply because it obviously was.

And then... well, her hand came up and slapped me.

Her eyes widened when my head didn’t snap to the side.

The corner of my lips tipped up in a smirk, “What you have failed to realize is that I haven’t given you the power to hurt me. And newsflash, you’ll never have it.”

And that was how it started to be between the woman who had masterminded giving birth to my kids.

And yes... I know... had I not stuck my dick in her, I wouldn’t have them.

And yet again... she used them at every turn to try to bring me to my knees.

The keyword in that was try.

Just like my mother tried to have it her way or no way at all.

And that was further proven true when I took my eighteen-month-old son to meet them.

See, they had apparently been trying to find me to make things right with how they had treated me on that fateful day all those years ago.

But what they didn’t know was that I had a son.

And my mother’s words? Well, she ensured that I would never have anything to do with them ever again.

That was my choice.

“I will not acknowledge any child that is born out of wedlock.” My mother said with a sneer in her tone.

I growled, “Is that the way of it?”

She nodded her carefully coifed head.

I shrugged, “Fine then. I won’t acknowledge a bitter shrew.”

She gasped.

My father sighed.

I held Cole in my arms as I turned around and walked out of their house for the last time.

And in my head, had Cole been older, I imagined our conversation would have gone something like this.

“Why was that lady mean to me?” he asked in his little voice.

“Because only mean people want to bring others down to their level because they don’t know how to be happy. And you, my little man, are the happiest of creatures.”

“Do I make you happy, Daddy?”

I winked down at my boy and hugged him close, “You make me so happy sometimes it feels as though the sun is shining down on me and me alone.”

That statement was the way of it, even after my daughter came squalling into the world.

Cole and Madalyn were the light of my life.

Even when that light was almost snubbed out.

***

The lights were bright.

The smell of bleach filtered into my nostrils.

The pain in my chest was unbearable.

Seeing the worried looks on my son and daughter, I smiled.

It probably looked more like a grimace, but it didn’t faze them.

“Did I win?”

My son, Cole, snorted, my daughter, Madalyn, smiled, then they both nodded.

“Where’s your mother?” I asked.

Madalyn growled, and Cole shook his head.

“You know, Dad.” They both said in unison.

I nodded because I did know.

Thank fucking Christ I never married the bitch.

“Call my lawyer. He’s got everything. He’ll know what to do.”

At my son’s nod, I closed my eyes and then hit the morphine pump.

And slipped into oblivion.

***

The day I was released from the hospital, I called Clutch.

To say he was bummed out would be an understatement, but he got it.

He got the man I was.

My kids came first.

I hung up my wraps, my belts, my robe, and traded in the title of Heavy Weight Champion of the World for the single most important title of my life... Dad.

But another title would be added to that... by her.