Page 29 of Witch's Promise

The crowd went wild, howls and cheers echoing off the walls. Sean could smell the bloodlust in the air, thick and cloying. These people didn't want a fight, they wanted a slaughter.

"And in the blue corner," the announcer continued, "the mystery man, the shadow boxer, the one, the only, Ghost!"

The cheers for Sean were more subdued, tinged with curiosity and maybe a hint of fear. Good. Fear kept you alive in this game.

As the referee called them to the center of the ring, Sean sized up his opponent. The Vargr towered over him, at least a head taller and twice as broad. Up close, Sean could see the barely contained shift rippling beneath the man's skin, fur and flesh battling for dominance.

The Vargr extended a massive hand, his smirk widening to reveal teeth that were just a bit too sharp to be fully human. "May the best beast win," he growled, his voice a low rumble that Sean could feel in his chest.

Sean clasped the offered hand, careful to keep his grip firm. No sign of weakness, not here. "We'll see who the real animal is," he replied, his voice muffled by the mask but no less challenging.

The Vargr's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. Good. Let him be angry. Angry fighters made mistakes.

As they backed away to their corners, Sean ran through his mental checklist. He'd faced shifters before, knew their tells. The Vargr would be strong, yes, but also predictable. He'd rely on his superior strength and speed, expecting to overwhelm his smaller opponent quickly.

The bell rang, a harsh clanging that cut through the noise of the crowd. And just like that, the dance began.

The Vargr charged forward, all brute force and no finesse. Amateur move. Sean sidestepped easily, years of training kicking in as he landed a quick jab to the shifter's ribs. Notenough to do real damage, but enough to sting. Enough to piss him off.

The big man growled, spinning with surprising agility for someone his size. His fist whistled past Sean's ear, close enough that Sean could feel the displacement of air. Too close. He needed to be smarter, faster.

Sean fell into a rhythm, dodging and weaving, landing quick strikes where he could. He was careful not to rely too heavily on his own supernatural abilities.

The Vargr was getting frustrated, his attacks becoming wilder, more desperate. Sean could see the shift happening, fur sprouting along the man's arms, his features becoming more lupine with each passing second. Shit. If the Vargr fully transformed, this fight would get a whole lot more complicated.

Time to change tactics.

Sean planted his feet, bracing himself. As the Vargr charged in for another attack, Sean didn't dodge. Instead, he met the charge head-on, using the bigger man's momentum against him. It was like being hit by a freight train, but Sean held his ground, pivoting at the last second to send the Vargr crashing into the cage wall.

The crowd roared its approval, bloodlust rising to a fever pitch. Sean ignored them, focused entirely on his opponent. The Vargr was shaking his head, dazed but far from beaten. As he turned back to face Sean, his eyes were glowing with an inhuman light, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"You'll pay for that, little man," the Vargr snarled, his voice distorted by the partial transformation.

Sean didn't bother responding. Words were wasted breath in a fight like this. Instead, he settled back into his stance, ready for whatever came next.

The Vargr didn't charge this time. Instead, he circled Sean warily, looking for an opening. Good. He was thinking now, notjust relying on brute strength. This was the real fight, the battle of wits and will that Sean had been waiting for.

Fuck it. Time to show this overgrown puppy what he was really dealing with.

Sean launched forward, his body a blur of motion. Years of training kicked in, muscle memory taking over as he seamlessly blended Ninjutsu and Jujitsu techniques. His hands struck like vipers, targeting pressure points and weak spots with surgical precision.

But the Vargr was tougher than he looked, and that was saying something. The big bastard absorbed Sean's strikes like they were love taps, barely flinching as blows that would have dropped a normal man rained down on him.

"That all you got, Ghost?" the Vargr taunted, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Sean's spine.

Before Sean could retort, the world spun. One moment he was on his feet, the next his back slammed into the mat with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. Shit. He'd underestimated the Vargr's speed.

"Fuck," Sean wheezed, rolling to avoid a follow-up stomp that would have caved in his chest.

As he scrambled to his feet, Sean felt a familiar rush of excitement. This wasn't just a fight anymore. This was a challenge, a true test of his skills. And damn if a part of him wasn't enjoying it.

The Vargr was coming at him again, all snarling fury and rippling muscle. Sean dodged, weaved, struck back when he could. They dance across the cage, a brutal ballet of fists and feet and barely contained savagery.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, each second a lifetime of pain and exhilaration. Sean could feel himself tiring, his reactions slowing by fractions of a second. But the Vargr wasn'tfaring much better. The big man's chest heaved with exertion, sweat pouring off him in rivers.

Something was off, though. The Vargr's movements were jerky, uncoordinated. His eyes flickered between normal and that eerie amber glow, like he was fighting some internal battle.

Shit. The fucker was holding back, trying to keep his wolf contained.

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