Page 12 of Rematch
Audrey:Max who?
Me:Don’t play with me.
Audrey:Or what?
Me:Don’t make me come over there and body slam you.
Audrey:Nah, you can stay wherever you’re at.
Audrey:But, yes, this is still my number.
Audrey:Even though I thought you were supposed to be waiting on me.
Me:Couldn’t.
Me:Missed you too much.
Audrey:Yeah, I hear you. [Rolling eyes emoji]
Me:Admit it: you missed me too.
Audrey:Get off my phone.
I chuckled at her last message. Reluctantly, I obeyed her command and locked the screen. The matches were about to start anyway.
Tysir and Wesley moseyed their way up the steps, followed by the muscle men, with the bags of cash. “We made out well tonight,” Tysir told me. “Entry fees alone are higher than I’ve seen in a minute.”
“Initiation night,” I explained, nodding to the crowd below. “Means a nice payday, but a shit ton to clean up.”
Tysir’s brows pinched together, but he didn’t have time to question it. He needed to hurry to secure the money. But, when he and Wesley came back to watch with me, he quickly learned what I meant.
The recruits were ruthless tonight. Busted lips and black eyes were common, but teeth were getting knocked out, bones were broken, and a few recruits needed the help of their crew to be dragged out of the octagon because they were knocked out clean by their opponent. By the time the first half of the matches were over, the octagon was steeped in blood.
I wasn’t particularly impressed by most of the fighters. None of them used any special strategies or tactics to score their victory. Just throwing their fists and feet, hoping to hit their target hard enough to weaken them. Shit got boring after a while.
I was glad when the last match was called. It was time for me to head the hell out of here. Maybe I’d stop by Audrey’s house, just to check on her. At this hour, she was probably already asleep. I just wanted to steal another glance at her. Remind myself her return wasn’t a dream.
My thoughts were quickly broken as I caught sight of the last contender stepping into the ring. Like looking in the mirror ofthe past, I quickly recognized his dark eyes, unruly curls, and determined frown.
What thefuckwas he doing here?
“Uh, Max,” Wesley said, tilting his head in confusion. “Why does he look like you?”
“Is he your cousin or something?” Tysir followed.
Ignoring their comments, I silently debated if I should go down there and drag him by his hair out of the octagon or let him get his ass beat by his opponent - notably older and bigger than him. The latter would serve him a good lesson. Maybe then he’d think twice before stepping into a place like this again.
The round bell rang, solidifying my decision. The kid had stayed away long enough. This would make sure he didn’t come back.
His opponent smirked at the difference in their size as they circled each other. Easy pickings, he was likely thinking.
He pulled his fist back and released it with the speed and strength of a bow flying through the air.
An audible gasp rushed through the audience when it didn’t strike through its target.
Quicker than anyone expected, the boy had weaved around the punch. As he made eye contact with his opponent, whose confusion was painted all over his face, he smirked.
The silent mockery lit a fire under the older man’s ass. He threw his weight behind his next few punches, throwing them quickly and relentlessly.
