Page 215 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Hey, big guy.” Dawson glances up and holds out his hand. “Been a minute.”

“It has. We’re sorry we missed the ride with you guys the other day.” He turns toward me and runs his gaze over me. “You look strong.”

That’s high praise coming from Wrath.

“Feel it.” I tap my fists together. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wasn’t missing this, although,” he casts a pointed look at Eraser, Remy, Molly, and then me, “I’m insulted you don’t have one of those snazzy purple hoodies in my size.”

Dawson chokes on a laugh. “That’s gonna be a special order.”

“Next time,” I promise him.

Wrath nods hello to Molly, then shifts his shrewd eyes my way again. “She walking out with us?”

Christ, is he going to tell me she shouldn’t be part of this too?

“Yeah,” I answer warily.

He nods quickly like he’s revising his plan. “I’m gonna walk behind her and to the outside. Remy will be in front of her and Eraser in front of you and to your left. That work?”

No judgment. Thank you. I blow out a breath and nod.

Molly lifts her phone and takes a quick sideways selfie of us.

A low rumble from the arena vibrates through the halls. Security and the camera guys start moving.

This is it.

I flip my hood up over my head. The guys ahead of me start moving and I give them a few feet before following. I move to the center, throw a few fists, bend my knees, strike, and basically shadow box my way down the hallway.

Molly hurries to keep up, her face a mask of concentration.

We reach the final hallway leading into the arena.

I turn to Molly. “Your seats are by the cage door, right?”

“Yes.” She holds up her phone. “Shelby and Trinity are there now.”

“Stay with me through the pre-check, until I go in the cage, okay?”

She nods quickly and doesn’t ask why.

The first notes of Dawson’s song start. It’s slow, rumbling— almost ominous—then it explodes into a powerful, grinding guitar riff.

I time my entrance into the corridor to the music, then march my way to the center of the arena.

With each step, my focus tunnels down to one thing—a trembling in my stomach, that spreads to my fists.

My blood runs hot with the need for victory.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Molly

Energy courses through me like I’m attached to a live wire. Every one of the twenty-thousand seats in the arena have been sold.

The bright lights disorient me, but I keep following the purple hood of Remy’s sweatshirt.

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