Chapter 28
Killian
I keep my head down, ignoring the crowd as I find Sandro and his boys.
I shake their hands and when Sandro shakes mine, he asks, “Ready?”
“Aye. Need anything from me?” I know they have heavy bets on this fight.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, takes a moment to think.
“You’re walking in there the underdog.” Glancing over the crowd, a smile ghosts over his lips.
“Most bets here are for The Punisher dropping you in the third round. Give them a show. Let the crowd see you taking some of his punches. Then after a few rounds, you put him on his back. Can you do that?”
I clench my fists, feeling the adrenaline rip through my blood. “Aye. I can do that.”
His glance flits to the giant in the ring and a brow raises. He pats my back. “Don’t die. Your sister would never forgive me.”
With a dark chuckle, I hop in the ring, getting into my mental space for the fight. I let the noise of the crowd fall to the background, my focus on the feckin’ Neanderthal staring me down. I cycle through my footwork. It’s a rhythm that centers me as I visualize the hit that’ll drop the fucker.
At this point, it stops being about the crowd, the bets or the money. It becomes about survival. Only one of us is walking out of this ring. And it damn well will be me. Losing is not an option.
The ref introduces us to the crowd with a dramatic flair, then we come together in the center. The Punisher’s got his hands by his sides. Like I thought. Cocky motherfucker.
I move in closer with a bob and weave, meet his gaze. Let the games begin. “You ever hear your own nose crack, mate?”
His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare.
“It’s a satisfying crunch. I’ll let ya hear it twice if you like.”
His eyes darken under bushy brows. “You’re dead, Irish.”
I grin, bob and weave and feign a punch to his head, pulling back and smirking as his hands fly up to protect his face. Grand. He’s on the defensive now, where I need him.
I’ve taken a few steps back, calculating my next move when for some bleedin’ reason, my eyes flick to the crowd… right to the one person that could knock me out of my game.
Sam.
Her whiskey eyes are swimming with worry, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. Even after being a cunt to her at the warehouse, and after she saw me gut a man, she’s worried?
I catch the motion almost too late, but at the last second I flex my abs to absorb the blow. Dancing back a few steps, I have to really focus on getting my breath back.
Feck. Eejit. Keep your head in the fight. I concentrate on the pain, expand it, use it to fuel my fury.