Page 123 of Undisputed Player
Rage. Pure, focused rage.
“Oh,” I whispered, unable to look away.
“Yeah,” Sierra said softly from Connor's lap. “First time I saw them fight, I couldn't believe they were the same men.”
Below, Jax shrugged off his robe, revealing a torso sculpted from years of discipline, every muscle defined, skin gleaming under the lights, the snake tattoos coiling up his arms seeming almost alive as he stretched. He was beautiful and lethal, a predator preparing to strike.
And he was mine. Even with today’s events, the thought of that man being mine made me feel giddy, like I was living in a strange dream.
“He's angry,” I observed, watching as he paced his corner, eyes never leaving his opponent.
Adrian nodded, the knife momentarily stilling in his hand. “Someone tried to hurt what's his. Of course he's angry.”
I was what was his. The knowledge sent warmth and pride through my chest. That beautiful, dangerous man with millions watching him this very moment, belonged to me, and I belonged to him.
The referee called the fighters to center ring. Jax touched gloves with Rodriguez, but there was nothing sportsmanlike in the gesture; it was cold. When he turned back to his corner, his eyes flicked up to our box, finding me instantly despite the distance.
Something in his face softened for just a heartbeat before the bell rang.
“First round is assessment,” Connor explained, offering Sierra a bite of pastry. “Jax will test his defenses, look for openings.”
I watched, mesmerized, as the fighters circled each other. The opponent was aggressive, pressing forward with heavy punches that Jax seemed to slip away from without effort. There was something hypnotic about watching him move. He was fluid yet powerful, each step calculated.
“He's toying with him,” Connor observed, his voice carrying a note of approval. “Making him waste energy.”
The bell rang, ending the first round. From our vantage point, I could see the coiled tension in Jax's shoulders, how his eyes remained fixed on his opponent.
“Is he... enjoying this?” I asked, surprised by the small smirk playing at Jax's lips. It wasn’t his normal one; it was almost evil.
Adrian laughed, a dark, knowing sound. “Oh yeah. Jax loves the game. The control. Making them think they've got a chance before he takes it away.”
The second round began, and the atmosphere shifted. Jax moved with new purpose, his fists connecting with each blow. The opponent staggered, blood spraying from his nose after a particularly brutal hit.
I flinched at the violence, unprepared for how visceral it would feel. Adrian moved closer, his shoulder brushing mine in comfort.
"He knows what he's doing," he told me quietly. "This is what he's trained for."
Sierra reached across the space between us to rub my back softly. “The first time is hard to watch,” she offered. “But it’s oddly pretty, right?”
I nodded. Somethingwasmesmerizing about the controlled violence, the raw power contained in Jax’s every movement.
And yet, when the bell rang again and Jax returned to his corner, his eyes sought mine once more, a silent message across the crowded arena.
I'm fighting for you.
“He's going to end it in the next round,” Connor stated with absolute certainty, pressing a kiss to Sierra's head as she nestled closer to him. “Watch his setup. Three jabs to the body, then the knockout blow.”
“Textbook Lion,” Adrian agreed, his knife now tucked away as he lounged lazily beside me. “Always did like to show off for an audience.” He winked at me, but beneath the playfulness, I saw the same protective watchfulness that had been there since the situation earlier.
As the third round began, I leaned forward, breath held in anticipation. Jax moved with purpose, backing the guy into a corner. Just as Connor had predicted, he landed three rapid jabs to the body, then unleashed a right ‘hook’ that connected with a sickening crack.
The opponent went down hard, his body limp before he hit the canvas. The referee started the count, but the fight was over. Jax stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving, victoriously bloody as the crowd erupted.
“That's our boy,” Adrian said with fierce pride. “Quickest fight of his career.”
Connor nodded once, satisfaction evident in his expression. “He had motivation.”
As the referee raised Jax's hand in victory, he looked up at our box again, his eyes finding mine with unerring precision. Even from this distance, I could see the wild, dangerous pride in his face, the look of a predator who had successfully defended what was his.
