Page 118 of The Wrecked One

I locked my jaw tight, knowing this was some type of pre-game strategy to get into my head, and I refused to let him win.

He stalked across the cage, closing in on me while lowering his voice so I barely caught a hint of his accent. “But my brother tripped into some shit with his attempted power move for control, didn’t he? Landed right in it, not having a clue who you all really were. Then, he proceeded to open his mouth to his wife.”

His face was far too close to mine, so close I felt his breath and could detect a hint of a recently smoked cigar, he added, “But then again, you already know that part, now don’t you? Alyssa’s why you kept surviving when you should have died. Your people weren’t better than us, you just had a heads-up.”

He backed up before I had a chance to forget the rules and test out my right hook early. “Tragic what will happen to Alyssa. We’ll keep the kids alive, though. Raise them right, don’t you worry.” He winked, the bastard. “But wrongs must be corrected for the balance of the world to continue.”

I chose to believe our message to the hacker made it in time to save Alyssa Soren and her kids, but I couldn’t think about that, not with what was about to go down. “And The Collective is what makes the world go round? They know what’s good for people, so they make the hard choices for them?”

Thirty seconds give or take left, and I was officially ready to fight this fucker. “So, why didn’t you follow protocols? Tell your little club we identified your names as part of The Collective? You do love to gamble, don’t you? Why didn’t you gamble with your life and let the chips fall where they may?”

He closed one eye, waving a finger at me like we really were just sims in a game. In that case, the little diamond over his head was about to go lights-the-fuck-out. “At least you have balls, unlike my brother. Considering the choice you made in that room in Bangkok, I almost respect you.” He shot me a smug look before sharing, “You secretly hope the man you killed worked for me, don’t you? That valet, what was his name again?”

I honestly didn’t think I was that lucky, no, but now that he mentioned it . . .

“Well, he didn’t. You murdered an innocent man.” He snickered.

A Muay Thai fighter all right. His words were the sword, though, not his hand.

“From what I know, he did beat his wife and slapped his kids around quite a bit. But that doesn’t deserve a death sentence, now does it?”

His words had me faltering. Beat his wife. Slapped his kids. Anurak? The guy with kind eyes and a nice smile? I doubted Hugo was bluffing, though. Not about this. Perhaps Anurak was the definition of never judging a book by its cover.

“Ten seconds. Prepare to face off.” The ref broke through my thoughts, and I raised my hands in preparation “Annnnd it’s time.” The ref dragged out each word like some Bruce Buffer wannabe.

Not even ten seconds into the opening round, Hugo wasted no time, coming at me not swinging, but kicking.

He connected a right high kick flush with my bad shoulder, and I bit back a hiss at the contact as my arm lit on fire. I had no time to pay attention to the pain, because he was already preparing to strike me again.

A barrage of attacks followed. He unleashed on me as if he had no plans to draw this out to three rounds.

I blocked and defended, doing my best to escape everything he threw at me, hoping he’d wear himself out. I’d yet to throw a single strike when I finally managed to get him into a clinch and delivered a few powerful knees to his abdomen.

The clinch helped slow down the pace, buying me some time as we remained like that for I had no clue how long.

An elbow to my nose finally forced me to break away from him. I spit out the blood pooling in my mouth as Hugo came back at me hard and fast, kicking my side. But it was the repeated kicks to my shin that had me gritting down on my back teeth.

The next time he came at me, I managed to catch him off guard and sweep his leg, taking him down. I wasted no time dropping my full weight on top of him, trying to gain the advantage. From my peripheral view, everything was a blur, but I could swear I saw Mya rising to her feet, my dad clinging to the side of the cage.

Focus! I reset my attention on the asshole beneath me, working to dominate him. I knew he’d never submit, but if I could keep him on the ground, I might be able to wear down the clock to get through the end of round one.

We wound up going back and forth, our positions alternating frequently as I gave him everything I had, and then some.

It wasn’t enough. Ultimately, his wrestling skills were superior, right along with his ability to push the boundaries of the human body, and he gained too much control.

A knee to my back, my cheek smashed to the mat, he twisted my arm around, then drove an elbow into my bad shoulder, and the guttural sound that left my mouth . . .

I barely registered the ringing in the background, signaling the end of the round. Hugo took his time in letting me go and stood as my body collapsed against the mat, never appreciating the term “saved by the bell” more than in that moment.

“Son,” Dad called out as I tried to get to all fours, spitting out more blood.

My shoulder was screaming at every movement. It was out of whack, and I had no choice but to try and reset it. I jerked my body forward, sending my shoulder against the mat to lock it back in place. I hissed at the stinging pain there, drawing in a deep breath as my dad helped me to my feet.

Once upright, it was Mya I looked at first. At her hands in prayer position as she held them against her lips and stared at me. Too far away to see if there were tears in her eyes, I knew her well enough to know that’d been harder on her to watch than it’d been for me to survive.

“You did good. Two more rounds and you’re done,” Dad said while helping me over to the corner and offering me a bottle. “Shoulder looks bad.”

“Because it is bad.” I groaned and squirted some water in my mouth when the ref gave us a thirty-second warning to return. If I drank too fast, I’d puke. “He’s going to kill me before the end of round three,” I admitted, not caring about pulling off a miracle and winning. I only gave a damn about making it to the end alive.

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