Page 16 of 1 Last Shot

I watch as he strolls back to his corner to get some water from his coach. And if I thought a victory would change Kane's expression, would make him look any less angry at the world, that assumption is squashed with one glance at the big fighter.

He looks exactly the same as he did at the start of the fight. Scowling face, sweat-drenched, with his muscles vibrating with the promise of pain. He looks like he could—orwantsto—go another few rounds with someone.

"Jesus, he's hot," I breathe.

”What’d you say?” Hailey asks.

I feel a blush heat my face at my blurted confession. “Nothing.”

I pull my stare away from the cage and turn to her, just in time to see her gaze dart anxiously toward the back entrance.

"I told Jax I'd grab something from Tristan after Kane's fight," she says, and in her defense, she looks guilty. "Are you okay here for a few minutes while I run back there?"

I wave her off. "I'm fine. Go do what you need to do.”

I only expect Hailey to be gone a few minutes, but fifteen minutes later, I'm still standing by myself, having watched the next two fighters make their way into the cage and who are now waiting for their fight to start.

But when the bell rings and the first shot lands, I feel a massive presence take up space beside me.

I know who it is without even looking at him. I know because the thrill that runs through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

"Congrats on the win," I tell Kane in a genuine, though slightly nervous tone. It's not that I'm afraid of him after his fight, it's just that this schoolgirl crush is putting me completely out of my element, and I'm not really sure what to say to him right now.

He doesn't respond. The only reason I know he heard me is because I see him barely turn his head in my direction.

"Are you happy with how it went?" I ask, feeling like that might be a dumb question. But I think I’m a little too desperate to engage with him, especially after our last two conversations.

This time I get an eye roll, but still no words. Until he asks, "Why are you here?”

I suck in a breath at the sound of his voice, so gravelly that I feel it scrape over my bones in a shiver. It takes me a second to process his question.

“Same reason everyone else is,” I answer breathily. “I just wanted to watch the fights.”

He still hasn’t really turned to look at me. But I see him scoff, right before he says, “Doesn't really seem like your scene, princess."

I look down at my outfit, taking in the sleek white pants and tan long-sleeved top that I decided to pair with simple black sandals for tonight. Then I look around myself, at the sea of leather and black that I'm surrounded by.

"I guess I do stand out a little," I say with a chuckle. "I wasn't sure what to wear. I've never been to one of these before."

"Obviously," he drawls, his attention still focused on the fight in front of us.

I readjust my purse strap in an attempt not to fidget. “Your fight was awesome,” I blurt out.

That finally gets his attention. Turning toward me, he gives me a mean smile. “Did the blood turn you on, rich girl?”

I don’t know how to answer that. My heart’s beating too hard to let me, anyway.

Kane gives me a once-over, and sneers when he meets my eyes again. “Have you ever even seen a fight? Or has your life been so privileged that youfight your battles with words?” His tone is mocking when he says the last part.

I swallow the lump in my throat at the accusation. It would’ve been obvious to me even without seeing his fighting style that Kane has lived a hard life. No one is this closed off to the world, this angry at it, without a reason.

I don’t know what that reason is, but my heart aches for Kane because of it.

“I’ve never seen any fights,” I confirm with a shake of my head. “But the physicality of it is impressive, and I’m sure it takes a lot of skill to do what you—”

He cuts me off with a scoff and turns his attention forward again.

I’m fidgeting now, lost as to how I should navigate his hostility. It’s obvious that Kane wants to be left alone—now and always—but with every look his way, the caretaker in me is bursting at the seams trying to get out. I can'tnotglance at Kane's bruised knuckles and ask, "Do you see a doctor after you fight? For your injuries?”

---