Chapter 13
POV: Callum
The fight was over before it started, and for Hammer, it meant the end of the line. He lived and died in the ring, and that was probably how he wanted it. Four men carried his body away while the crowd, ever fickle, thundered Clash’s name.
Hammer had fallen in three blows—the last driving him into the dirt, body folding like a broken doll.
Clash stood unmoving at the center, oblivious to the chant. His eyes locked on mine, and a chill ran through me. The slaughter had been too quick to gauge his style, but I knew enough—he was raw strength, untamed, no discipline.
That was the danger. It was easy to lose yourself when the berserker came roaring, to stop thinking and let instinct drown you. I’d spent years training my mind to cut through the red haze, because if I couldn’t think, then all would be lost.
Sorsha might become a widow before she had even known me as her husband.
The thought clawed at me—her first taste of hope ripped away.
My blood surged, not with fear, but with fury and need.
I wanted to be the one to take her lovingly, to show her how beautiful life—and love—could be. And for that, I had to win.
The chanting shook the rafters when Gordo leaned down, lips at my ear. “They want you, Rage.”
I rose, removed my shirt, shoulders rolling, breath steadying. Each step toward the ring was a step deeper into the fire that had lived in me since birth. The crowd surged, some reaching out to touch me, others jeering, but it slowly dimmed into the background.
My blood sang, thrumming with the call to violence.
Clash tracked me with those beast-wide eyes, head cocked like he was sizing up prey. No bravado, no swagger—just that slow, deliberate stalk that said he’d never lost.
I swung over the ropes, boots hitting the dirt floor. The noise swelled, Rage vs Clash, chants twisting together until they became thunder.
We stood across from each other, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. Fire ran through my veins—no backing out. The berserker clawed to be free, and for once, I welcomed it.
No signal was needed. Clash lunged first, a bull’s charge, his fist slicing the air where my head had been a moment before. I pivoted, letting his momentum carry him wide.
He snarled, spun back, and his knuckles cracked against my shoulder. Pain flared—but it grounded me.
The crowd roared. They wanted blood.
He came again, a hook meant to finish it quick. I stepped inside the arc and drove my elbow into his ribs. Bone and muscle thudded under the strike—but Clash only grinned, eyes blazing wider. Pain didn’t slow him; it fueled him, just like it did me.
Instinct screamed to unleash, to meet him in frenzy until one of us lay broken. But frenzy was death. I forced my breath to slow down and my mind to stay sharp.
He had bulk and rage, but no restraint. Every wild punch bled power. I could use that. Wear him down. Then end it.
Clash lifted his fists like iron clubs, and the mob bayed its approval. My body thrummed in answer.
He charged, fists swinging. I ducked low and spun free, just out of reach, and mocked him with a chuckle. He snarled, beastlike, as the pit howled his name—until, suddenly, the chant turned.
“Rage. Rage.” My old name rattled the walls.
He swung wide, a left hook heavy as an anvil. I caught it on my forearm—pain seared—but I dipped under, punishing him with multiple shots to the ribs, then a crack across the jaw. His head snapped back, but his wild eyes only burned brighter.
Blood sprayed as he laughed and rammed his forehead into mine.
White fire split my skull. For a breath, the Berserker surged, howling for release, to tear and crush until nothing remained. My pulse thundered with it.
No. Breathe. Think. Cage it.
I staggered back, shaking the haze. Clash pressed forward, relentless, his swings growing sloppier. I let him chase me, burning himself out.
When his fist cut wide, I slid inside and punished him—hook to the ribs, elbow to the temple, knee to the thigh. Each strike landed. Each slowed him.
Still, he kept coming.
The pit shrieked, drunk on violence.
Then he caught me. His fist crashed into my side, and the air ripped from my lungs. I doubled over—his next blow snapped my jaw. The pit blurred, and fury ripped free, red and merciless.
I roared, surging upright, fists flying in a storm. Punch after punch rained down, too fast to think, only needing him broken.
Clash reeled, blood painting his grin.
With the last shred of willpower, I caged the rage, and my strikes slowed and became more precise.
Clash swung again, slower now, chest heaving. I drove my fist into his gut, folding him. My knee slammed into his jaw. He staggered, dazed. The pit roared, sensing the end.
I circled once, breath burning. Feinting left, I twisted to the right, putting everything into the last blow. My knuckles crashed against his temple, and his eyes rolled back, the wild gleam snuffed out, and his massive frame toppled like a felled tree.
The crowd erupted, deafening: “Rage! Rage!”
I stood above him, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. Victory burned hot in my veins. But beneath the fire, a chill coiled tight. I had won—but I had come terrifyingly close to losing myself.
The fight had taken its toll, and I stumbled out of the ring, every muscle screaming. Now I knew what it was like to face a berserker—and what my opponents must have felt facing me.
Never again.
I stopped in front of Gordo. He was grinning ear to ear, already lifting my arm in the customary salute, bellowing to the crowd.
“And the winner—our very own Rage!”
I growled at him, but the roar of the crowd overshadowed it.
Tearing my arm free, I snapped, “Pay me, so I can get the fuck out.”
“You never did like the adoring crowd,” he chuckled. “But you never said no to the girls. Need one to take the edge off?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, anger rising again like bile.
He only laughed, motioning to a bookie, who pressed a pouch of coins into my hand. I shoved it into my pocket and dragged my shirt on, flinching as the fabric scraped over bruised skin.
I ached everywhere—jaw throbbing, ribs burning. The worst wasn’t the pain. It was the thought of her.
Sorsha.
How the hell was I going to explain this to her?