Page 52 of Caged

“Holy shit, Mads.” Chloe sits back against the booth with a french fry frozen midway to her mouth, while Carys sits next to her with a self-satisfied grin.

I kick Carys under the table. “What are you thinking?” I ask her.

“I think I’ve been telling Cooper for years that I thought there was something between you and Hudson Kingston, and he always told me I was crazy.” She grabs Chloe’s fry and pops it into her mouth. “Look who’s crazy now.”

Chloe elbows Carys for stealing the greasy fry. “Wait... Are you saying Mads is crazy, or is Cooper the crazy one? Because he did marry you, after all.”

“Hello?” I pluck a tomato from my salad and throw it between them. “Do you think this is nuts? Because I feel like the idea of it should have me so much more scared than I actually am. I’m not sure if I’m being naive or just plain stupid.”

“You’re not either of those things, Maddie. If your gut is telling you to go for it, then go for it. Just be careful and keep your eyes open.” Carys steals another fry from Chloe’s plate and dips it into her chocolate shake.

“That is so gross.” Chloe pushes her plate in front of Carys, her face pinching tight in disgust at the mixing of food before she turns back to me. “Don’t listen to her. Have fun. See where it goes. If nothing else, I bet Hudson Kingston will make it so good for you, Mads.”

I realize quickly I don’t like either of them talking about him like this, especially when they snicker. “What?”

“Oh, Mads. You should see your face,” Carys points at me. “Don’t listen to either one of us. Do what feels right to you. Only you get to decide that. But I’d make sure you’ve got some killer lingerie for Saturday night.”

“The white with blue lace?” Chloe asks Carys before they both smile. “Let’s get the check. We need to get you fitted.”

When I leave the shop a little later, it’s with the most gorgeous lingerie I’ve ever seen in my life and a little extra pep in my step. I love my friends.

HUDSON

Final cut day fucking sucks.

I don’t let myself get too out of control between fights anymore because cutting the weight is awful. I’d rather eat dogshit than do a twenty-pound weight cut again. Been there, done that. Won the fight. But none of that means I want to repeat that soul-crushing process, so I try to make sure I have less than that to cut during camp.

Most of it is water weight.

We all cut it, weigh in, and then start the process of rehydrating after the press junket ends.

That’s tomorrow. Two more nights before I defend my title against Maniac McGuire, and when I walk into Cade’s office, Spider Reynolds is taunting me again. This time on a national sports vlog. “What the fuck?”

Cade looks up, tells me to shut the door, then turns the TV up.

Spider’s been spouting off to anyone who’ll listen that this fight’s a joke.

That McGuire has no chance.

That it’s a soft fight because I’m scared to face a real fighter.

That my last name bought my title.

Like I haven’t spent the past five years fighting the best in this sport.

The scumbag just wants his shot. But he doesn’t want to earn it.

“How many times am I going to have to ignore this shit?” I grunt. “I’ve got no problem doing it. But at some point, I’m going to destroy this asshole.”

Cade turns the TV off, then spins back around to me. “Ignore him. He’s nothing. He’s a hack, looking for an easy way up. And he’s not getting it from you. Two more days, King. Don’t split your focus.” He eyes me carefully, and I read between the lines.

“I’m not breaking any rules, Saint.”

“That’s up for interpretation,” he argues, but there’s no heat behind his words. “Go home. I’m staying late tonight. I’ll make sure Maddie and Imogen get out of here.”

“Any word from the cops?” Kroydon Hills isn’t a huge town. We’re on the outskirts of Philly and have our own police force. The crime level is pretty damn low, considering.

I don’t understand why the hell this investigation is taking so long.

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