Page 135 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I nod, but say nothing else. I’m not sure I can speak again without breaking down. Besides the pain I felt from losing my mum, this is up there with the worst fucking pain I can imagine.

Matilda went from being a distraction to being my entire world. I can’t lose her too, because I hate to think what will become of me. I thank the universe every day that I’m hers, and no fucker is taking that away from me.

Jordan glances at his phone. ‘It’s time. You ready for this?’

Pushing up from the bench, I crack my neck a few times and bounce on the spot. ‘Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.’ Tonight is just like any other night. Like any other fight.

They don’t call me “The Butcher” for no reason.

Anderson smirks at me when I enter the cage. It takes every ounce of my energy not to race over there and smash his ugly fucking head in. Instead, I relax my body, knowing in about one minute he’s going to be bleeding out of every hole in his face.

The crowd tonight is huge. Bigger than I’ve seen it before. Jordan has shown up for me tonight, so I owe him big time. This encounter will never happen again.

Dan takes the mic. ‘Don’t we have a treat for you tonight?’ He lifts his hands, and the crowd goes wild. ‘The Butcher is back to take on the Reaper.’ He points to Michael. ‘I hope you’re going to keep it clean tonight, Grimm.’

Michael nods with a thumbs up, but the crowd boos him, which gives me hope. Sometimes all it takes is for the crowd to be on your side, and you somehow develop super strength.

Pacing my side of the cage, my eyes never leaving Michael, I crack my neck and twist my upper body while shaking out my arms.

Michael shrugs his shoulders up and down, twisting his neck as he keeps his eyes trained on me as well. The mouth guard he places into his mouth will be of no use by the time I’m finished with him.

Dan calls the first round, sending Grimm towards me, his gigantic frame heavy on the mat. One thing I know about him is that he doesn’t like to be on the ground, so my plan is to take him down to the floor and use my jiu-jitsu skills to make him tap out. His strength will be hard to overcome, so I have to get him at the right moment and use momentum to bring the big fucker down.

He throws a couple of punches my way, playing with the air. This isn’t a joke. The last time we fought, he had to cheat to beat me, so if he thinks this time will be easier, he’s sorely mistaken.

I duck as another swinging arm comes at me, then swing my back leg up, connecting my foot to his ribs. He grunts and backs away from me, giving himself a chance to breathe. I don’t have time for this dancing around, so I charge at him, bending to grab him around the middle.

He’s a strong sonofabitch, and his elbows come down hard on my back, but I keep my arms wrapped around him as I dig my feet into the mat and push him to one side of the cage. When his back hits the metal, he brings his knees to my face, forcing me to let go.

Bouncing backwards, I suck in a deep breath, trying to get enough oxygen back into my body to go at him again. His body is pink with exertion, and he’s breathing just as heavy as I am.

Dan calls the first round, sending us to either side of the cage for a breather. My head spins as I suck in as much air into my lungs as I can, replaying the sound of Eli’s fist against Matilda’s face.

I’m a madman, barely able to control my need to ruin Grimm’s life. He doesn’t have his world resting in the palms of his hands. One wrong move and it slips right through your fingers. I’ll take everyone with me if I don’t get her back. The world will fucking burn.

Jordan calls my name, bending down so I can hear him. ‘He steps before he punches. That right hook he throws, he’ll step before throwing it. When he punches out in front, he drops his back hand down before it.’

I nod. ‘Thanks, man.’

‘You’ve got this.’ Jordan stands back up, leaving me to analyse my next move.

Dan calls the next round, so I charge first, racing forward to the centre of the cage. If I don’t take Anderson down soon, we’ll both be panting on the ground before the next round is over. But for thirty grand, I have to give the crowd a good show.

Grimm steps forward, and just as Jordan said, his back hand drops before he strikes out in front. I duck and move backward, staying light on my toes. My attacking side-kick connects to his face, sending blood gushing from his now-broken nose, and his eyes watering. The roar of the crowd is deafening, and someone starts a chant.

‘Butcher. Butcher. Butcher.’ The crowd erupts in unison, and if I said it doesn’t get my blood pumping, I’d be a lying bastard.

This makes the vein in Grimm’s neck throb. How he hasn’t had a stroke yet is beyond me, but I don’t give a shit about that. I just want him on the ground, bleeding and wishing he never accepted to fight me again.

So I step at him again, connecting my fist with his face. He stumbles back, eyes blinking, so I take my chance and move around to his back.

He doesn’t have time to turn when my body reacts with muscle memory, grabbing the front of Anderson’s neck before climbing up his back, pressing my feet into it as I throw all my weight backwards.

His legs give way, bringing him down on top of me, almost knocking the wind out of me. My lungs struggle against Anderson’s weight, but I hold on with everything I have.

Silence overtakes the crowd’s roar. The only thing I hear is the sound of my heart thrumming in my ears and my fast breathing. With my legs wrapped around Grimm’s chest, his throat in the crook of my elbow, I lock my other arm against my forearm and squeeze.

Anderson struggles against me, clawing at my arms, drawing blood. But I hold on, pulling tighter, begging my muscles not to give out.

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