Page 52 of Stolen Seconds

My trainer’s name flashed across the screen, and I cursed before answering it on the third ring.

“Where are you?” His voice came down the line, a bit muffled by the background noise.

“Cleaning up a mess.”

“Clean it later and get your ass to the Club,” he said in agitation. “You already missed your session this morning, so I hope to hell your heads screwed right for tonight.”

A fight was exactly what I needed after this visit. “I’m on my way.”

I stole a glance at my unconscious father, staring at his blanching face. I’d visit him again soon and break another part of him.

Leaving the room, I handed Dr. Aldo the supplies. “Give him the morphine and wrap up his injuries.”

“You didn’t know how to use the syringe after all.” He gave me a sly smile, enjoying himself at my supposed ignorance.

“Something like that.”

The crowd roared to life when I stepped onto the stage, heightening the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Overhead lights shifted over the audience, my name a chant on their tongues.

It would never get old how my mere presence could invoke such thick energy permeating the air. It fueled my need to wreak havoc on the poor fucker across from me.

Fighting was an outlet for me, a way to relieve the anger residing in the dark parts of my soul.

The whistle rang, igniting a surge of manic power slicing through me.

My opponent tonight was a burly man with a snarl attached to his sweaty face, glaring at me as if I was his worst enemy.

I took my stance, a smirk stretching my face before I gestured for him with two curled fingers.

It ticked him off—exactly as I expected—and he lunged forward with a growl, swinging his fist toward me.

I ducked, steering away from his weak aim until I stood behind him, my heart rate accelerating when he turned and came at me again.

This time, I leaned back, avoiding his fist before headbutting him with a vicious strike.

He stumbled back, blood oozing from his nose and the sight itched at the crazed sensation pricking my skin.

There were no rules to the fights that happened at the Underground Club except for one. Every fight was to the death. Whoever took the life of the other would be titled the winner.

And I’d never lost.

I had to admit, though, a sick part of me enjoyed letting them get in a hit or two before bathing in their blood. It kept the crowd entertained and my high fresh.

The man came at me full force and I laughed as his weight crushed me to the floor, the piercing screams of the audience deafening.

He threw a punch against my jaw, the taste of ironbursting on my tongue, causing me to turn my head and spit it out.

One.

The moment my eyes locked with Irina’s in the crowd, standing right behind the roped border, my smile widened.

Her expression was pure shock as she stared at me wide eyed with her mouth parted. She flicked her gaze to the man pinning me to the floor before it shifted back to me, her brows furrowed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was nervous.

I winked at her as another punch landed on my cheek, the skin tearing.

“That your lady out there? She’s real pretty.” Hot breath fanned my face. “Bet she’d look even prettier underneath me.”

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