44. D.H
My match is in 20 minutes.
I've planned out my day perfectly- I complete and win the fight in probably a minute or two and then run to Amara, lift her in my arms and kiss the air out of her right there and then.
After I win, I'm taking her out after. No crowds, no reporters but just her, me, and that café she loves.
She doesn't know it yet, but I plan to tell her something real tonight. Something I've been trying to say for a long damn time.
I wrap my arms with tape, the bracelet is still there on my wrist.
But a thought lingers, what is that Dominic had to tell me about her?
Yesterday he had called me saying, "Its about your ballerina."
"Yeah, what about Amara?" I asked him, with a slight frown.
"I'll meet you in person, before your match." he answered, his tone firm.
"Wait, is it about her stalker-?" I grit, my hand tightened around my phone.
But he hung up.
I'm done wrapping my hands when the door swings open.
"Thought you'd ghost me again" I roll my eyes.
Dom doesn't smile. He just shuts the door behind him and leans against the wall, arms crossed. He studies me for a moment, saying nothing.
"You look like hell" he finally says.
"Appreciate it," I mutter. "Now, you gonna tell me what's going on, or should I start guessing?"
He exhales slowly, the kind of sigh that sounds like it's been weighing on him for too long. Instead of answering, he walks closer, eyes flicking over my gloves, the tape, the bruises that haven't fully healed.
"You ready for today?" he asks instead.
"Don't change the subject," I say. "You called me in the middle of the day sounding like you'd found a body."
He lets out a small, humorless laugh. "Would've been easier if it was just that."
That gets my attention.
I drop the roll of tape, leaning forward slightly. "Dom."
He looks up, finally meeting my eyes. "You remember the guy that broke into Amara's place?"
"Yeah." my jaw clenches and I stand up now.
"And it took some digging, but I found who sent him."
I stare, waiting.
Dom doesn't break eye contact, but his voice drops, "You're not gonna like the name, Hayes."
"Fucking tell me, Dominic." I grit.
This won't end well for anyone, she's mine to protect, if anything happens to her then-
"Damon Hunt"
"What?" I stare at him, "Damon fucking Hunt?"
"Yeah." he says, "I bribed Jake- turns out his name is actually Ace." Dom's voice is flat, "Said Hunt's resurfacing. After what happened two years ago, it made sense to me that Hunt wants leverage."
Damon is a dangerous man, and I sure as hell don't want to drag her into my shitty past. I can't let anything happen to her.
He didn't need to get his hands dirty; he bought the dirt. He bought the punches, the outcomes, the loyalty of people who owed him more than they could ever pay back.
Two years ago he put a price on me. Not figuratively — actual paper and ink, numbers big enough to make people blink.
He bet on a guy they said would take me out by the end of round three.
The room that night stank of sweat and overcooked fear.
Bookies with slicked hair, Damon's cronies counting the line as if they'd already cashed the check.
I remember standing with my back to the ropes, the smell of the crowd in my face, thinking maybe this is how it ends — not with glory, but with someone else's filthy money deciding my fate.
I won.
One stupid, perfect hook. The roar filled my chest so loud I thought my heart would pop.
The ledger in Damon's hand went from digits to ash.
He lost more than cash; he lost face, creditors, the men who once took orders from him with a tremble.
He had a kingdom built on leverage, and I knocked over the cornerstone.
He never forgave that.
After I ruined his life in the underground- by ruining his career and reputation he swore he'd get to me. Ruin my title, ruin my life. I remember the way he said it — calm, confident, like he already had the map to my fall.
If he wants to be a man about it, he can come to me like a man. One-on-one. Face me in the ring, or face me in daylight with every camera on us but he's not a man. He's a coward who sends other people to hurt whom I love because he can't stand to take the hit himself.
"He's a fucking coward." I grit, "I swear if he hurts her."
Shit.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I immediately grab my phone and call Amara.
Straight to voicemail.
"Bonjour! its me Amara" she says with a smile practically audible. "I'm probably dancing or daydreaming. Leave me a message, oui? I'll call you back!"
I feel at ease hearing her voice, but i need to see her right now. "She's not answering. Dom, I swear if that fucker-" My jaw tightens.
"Xavier Hayes, calm freaking down! You're overthinking, she must be on her way." Dominic says, calm as ever, as if this isn't a big deal.
Ok, she must be on her way, or she must be arguing with Clara about outfits, shoes, or something harmless.
That has to be it because she promised, she'd be here on time like always, front row, eyes locked on me like the rest of the world doesn't exist. She knows my routines better than anyone, and she knows that I need her before I step into the ring.
"Fuck it."
I mutter to no one and step out of the locker room, and go down, taking two steps at a time.
I start moving through the arena, my eyes scanning for her.
The crowds already filling in, lights flashing, loud laughs, and the smell of cheap beer.
I check her usual spots, she usually sits in the right side.
She says I look adorable from that side.
"Where are you, Swan?" I breathe.
I turn near a corner, and stop right there.
The air changes. Its subtle but I feel it- like walking straight into a storm.
He's leaning against the wall, like he owns it. Hands in his pocket, a slight smirk resting on his lips, and his brown eyes on me.
Damon fucking Hunt.
He's leaning near the VIP corridor like he belongs here, like he isn't a ghost that crawled out of my past. Same smug posture. Same punchable grin. My blood goes cold, then burns.
I take a step forward. Then another.
"Well, if it isn't the Ring Lord," he drawls, eyes flicking over me slowly. "All dressed up and ready to bleed."
I don't stop walking. "Talk fast. Or don't talk at all."
He chuckles. "Relax. I was just admiring how distracted you look." His gaze sharpens, cruel. "Hard to focus when your ballerina's on your mind, huh?"
That does it.
My fists clench. "I swear, I'll end you"
Damon steps closer, voice dropping, deliberate. "Pretty thing, shes beautiful, no wonder why my men liked watching her. You ever wonder how someone like her survives around monsters like us?"
Rage slams into me, blinding and violent.
"That's enough, you don't get to talk about her."
He smiles wider, satisfied. "Oh, I do. Because everything you love, Hayes? That's exactly where I aim."
The bell echoes faintly from the arena. Five minutes.
He opens his mouth again, clearly enjoying this. Clearly poking at the wound.
"Come on," he taunts, spreading his hands. "The bells about to ring."
Damon's smile twitches. "Oh," he says lightly, like he's just remembered something amusing. "Then again... makes you wonder why your ballerina isn't here yet, doesn't it?" He tilts his head.
I don't let him finish.
My fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack.
He stumbles back into the wall, shock flashing across his face before pain twists it ugly. My chest heaves as I step into his space, fury finally tearing loose."Fucking hit me, you loser."
"What did you do to her, you filthbag?" I snarl, grabbing his collar.
Shouts erupt instantly.
"Hey! Hey!" Security rushes in from both ends of the corridor, hands grabbing my arms, dragging me back before I can hit him again. Damon wipes blood from the corner of his mouth, then laughs.
Actually laughs.
"Whoops," he says, smirking at me through the guards. "Did the Ring Lord just lose his precious streak?"
They pull me farther away, but my eyes never leave him.
Because the match doesn't matter anymore.
Only one thing does—
Where the hell is Amara?
The guards shove me back hard, hands locked on my arms.
"That's it!" one of them snaps. "You're done, Hayes. Disqualified. Match terminated due to violence."
Thats one rule, no violence outside the ring.
The words barely register.
I don't care.
I wrench against their grip, eyes locked on Damon like I could burn the truth out of him. "I don't give a fuck," I spit. "Hunt, tell me where she is."
He straightens slowly, rolling his jaw, tasting blood. Then he shrugs "Honestly?" he says. "I don't know."
Something inside me goes terrifyingly still.
The world blurs around me—shouting, flashing cameras, people yelling my name like it still means something.
The Ring Lord.
The streak.
The title.
All of it feels hollow.
What am I without her?
Just a man who can throw a punch. Just noise. Just violence.
They can take the match. Take the win. Take every damn record I've ever built. None of it matters if she isn't safe. None of it ever did.
My chest tightens as her face fills my mind—her laugh, the way she looks at me like I'm more than bruises and blood, like I'm worth loving even when I'm broken.
I'd lose everything for her.
I already have.
And I'd do it again.
Because if the price of being the Ring Lord is a world where she isn't protected, then I don't want the crown.
I just want my Swan.