Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I quickly change out of my work clothes, opting for a pair of jeans, a loose top, and some flats. I keep my hair up in its high bun and don’t bother touching up my makeup. I’m already running late, so I grab my bag and run out the door.
He seems to be avoiding me, and I want to see him. I have no intention of talking to him, though. What his sister did was so wrong, and I hate that small part of me that still blames him, even in the slightest. I enjoy watching him fight. I’ve only been to a few of his fights, and they’re actually fucking hot to witness.
The ride to the old warehouse doesn’t take too long, and I’m soon climbing out of the Uber and heading inside. There’s already a fight going on as I push my way through the crowd, but it’s not Soren in the ring.
The announcer yells, “Knockout!” and I know the next fight will start soon.
I take a spot in the middle of the crowd, close enough to see but hopefully not close enough for Soren to notice me. The crowd starts to cheer, and I know he’s heading out for his turn in the ring.
When I catch a glimpse of him, I note his head is tilted down as he slowly strides to the middle of the ring. His opponent watches him with a little bit of caution. I don’t blame him. Soren’s hands are fucking lethal.
The bell rings, and the fight starts, but it’s not like the other times I’ve seen Soren fight. Something is different. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be here, which is weird because this is his happy place.
The sound of a fist meeting flesh echoes through the crowd, and everyone gasps loudly. Hands meeting face, in the most brutal way possible.
Another punch.
This one to his stomach.
Soren is standing there, letting himself get pummeled. He doesn’t move, just takes hit after hit. The other fighter stares at Soren in confusion, because usually Soren’s opponents would be on the ground by now. But here he is, still standing, and taking it all.
“Soren!” I scream, pushing through the thickening crowd, every second stretching tight with panic. My eyes lock onto him just a few feet away, unaware. When I’m closer to the ring, I scream his name again, until my own ears are ringing. His head snaps toward me, sharp and alert. For a brief moment, it feels like he might catch the danger. And then a sudden, brutal blow strikes his temple. He crumples instantly, the world tilting as he hits the ground.
THIRTY-FOUR
SOREN
My head is throbbing.
I brought it upon myself.
I shouldn’t have been out there tonight.
But I needed to feel something.
It was the best option for me.
Because that night when Cressida left me at my childhood home, Maya had to be admitted to the hospital for her heart. It’s always been bad, and at one stage, we assumed she was getting better, but she has always had heart problems, plus mental health issues. Thankfully, she’s doing better now, but it’s really fucking hard to try to walk away from someone who only has you. But she’s losing her fucking mind, and I don’t want Cressida to be caught up in all that bullshit.
Hands wrap around my upper arms and lift me from where I’m sprawled on the ground. It’s clear I’ve lost the fight, which isn’t surprising. It’s the first fight I’ve lost in a very long time, and it doesn’t feel good.
My vision is blurry, but my gaze seeks her out, only to find her behind me with a worried expression on her face. I feel the stares of the people in the crowd, and I know she can too. I ask her with nothing more than a look to come with me to the locker room, and she thankfully understands, indicating that she’ll follow.
We push past the crowd and straight into the locker room. When the door is shut, separating us from the noise in the main room, I slump onto the bench in front of my locker. My head still feels light and fuzzy.
She remains by the door, not coming too close to me.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Ignoring my question, she asks one of her own, “Why did you let him win?”
Fuck, even with my vision fucked up like it is, I can still see she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.
Dropping my head between my knees, I take a few deep breaths. My ribs are sore, possibly bruised or broken. My head is pounding from the beating I let him give me, but it made me feel things. That’s why I let him do it.
“You should see a doctor,” she says.
“I know what he’ll say.” I sit up.