- Chapter Two-

Zoe

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Pure strength and perfect flesh. Each piece of it, each curve, coated in the permanent mark of ink that drew my eye even further. Huxton was gorgeous.

I fucking hated that.

Why did he have to look and sound and smell so good? How was this fair? Even when he vanished out of my line of sight, I still looked at where he'd been. It was easy to imagine him, he should have been from my imagination. Hell, he should have just existed in my head, not appeared at this crazy party my roommate had thrown for me.

Eliza cleared her throat. Twisting, I was half-way to blushing before I saw the accusing glint in her eyes. “Don't even,” I said, warning her.

“Zoe Zoe Zoe,” she sighed dramatically. “Did I pick the right entertainment for you, or what?”

For me, I thought cynically. “Eliza, please give me a break here.”

“I'm only teasing.” Her glossy lips spread over her pearly teeth. “But he's something else, isn't he?”

Recalling how his cock had sizzled between my thighs, I shivered. “Something else, yeah.” Which was why I had to shove him from my mind. This had been fun, too fun. I was minutes away from doing something in Eliza's bedroom I shouldn't have ever considered.

Of course, my mind and body disagreed.

Grabbing my coat off of the rack behind the door, I slid my arms into it. The green material hung with a welcoming weight. Even in LA, it would get cold in December. Especially when it got late... and I planned to be out late. “I'll see you after,” I said, twisting the knob and stepping into the growing evening.

Eliza's voice was crisp. “You better!”

I hated lying to her, though it wasn't entirely a lie. I would see her later. Just much later. Way after the party had cleared...

And after Huxton had left the house.

Tucking my chin into the coat, I started down the street and towards the metro. I didn't have a car, couldn't afford it. Luckily, I was used to traversing the sprawling city via bus or subway.

From my purse, I slid my earbuds into place and flicked through my phone for some music. It had become my routine over the last six months. God, had it only been that long? It felt like I'd been making the same trip for years. It was draining me.

The music, low and fierce, was supposed to be soothing. Except now the tunes were making me think of a certain bedroom and a more specific man. Tattoos and gyrating hips. A pair of green eyes that wore me down, and a cock so thick and hard it wanted to rip right through my rapidly dampening panties—Nope. Nope nope nope.

Scowling both mentally and visibly, I glared at my reflection in the subway window. Stop it Zoe. Don't do this to yourself. You know this game, you just got out of it.

Guys like Huck... they weren't new to me. They were my old, familiar comfort zone. My doom. I wouldn't make a mistake like that again.

Changing the song, I found something more peppy and upbeat. It came close to easing the bitter acid in my mouth.

I had some time to kill. I'd expected I'd be able to enjoy my party—Eliza had been kind enough to organize it—and not have it run over into my required engagement. It would still have been fine, except for that fucking guy.

If I'd stayed, who knew what I would have done. I couldn't take the risk.

Riding the metro up and down the entire Red Line, I did two loops. Time drudged by, the normal anxiety that came with where I was heading taking over. Thoughts about Huxton faded.

It was time.

The voice over the intercom boomed the name of the stop we pulled into. I heard it through my earbuds, clutched my purse and stepped out onto the platform. The station was busy, packed with people who were beginning their night out. Saturday in Hollywood, it was always crazy.

In my comfortable flats, the dress kicked around my legs as I jumped the stairs that led to the streets above. It was bright out, they'd decorated every palm-tree with Christmas lights for the season. They lit my way, the red and blue fading when I ducked down a side-street. Where I was going, there would be no delightful holiday spirit.

Zipping my jacket higher, I wandered the familiar alley. The walls around me displayed graffiti, random swears and esoteric symbols. Buildings crowded me, all so lifeless; or at least, they looked that way. Finally, I halted in front of a wide, rusted door. It looked like a garage. I knew better.

Not knocking, I slid the door upwards, ignoring the metallic screech. Yellow light hit me, illuminating the alley I wanted to run back out into. If only I could have.

Quickly, I ducked inside and gave up on my urge to run away. The room was bigger than it looked from the outside. Equipment sat, unused and ghostly. Heavy bags, thick ropes, weights... it was an abandoned gym. Well, I say abandoned. I knew where everyone was.

Crossing to a door, I cracked it. The noise echoed below, rolling up the stairs and telling me clearly that the underground space was going to be packed.

The Dog House always was on Saturday nights.

Unlike the folks above, strolling Hollywood and getting drunk in the clubs... the people here had a specific taste. They screamed for blood.

I didn't need to be quiet, but I tried to, anyway. When I reached the bottom level, I saw the crowd around the ring. Shit, it's seriously packed tonight. Checking my cellphone, I confirmed that I wasn't late—it was only nine—and also ignored the two texts from Eliza. I could predict what they said: “Are you coming back?” or something like “Huck keeps asking for you!” Alright. Maybe not that last one. I shouldn't have even joked about it.

“Hey, Zoe!”

Turning, I saw the thick, muscled man approaching. I recognized him, of course. No one just forgets their ex-boyfriend, even if it'd be a blessing. Towering over me, Reese was a figure from a heroic story of legend. I mean, people weren't supposed to look like that anymore. No one else existed that compared to Reese.

Except, hadn't I met a guy who did, earlier tonight? The memory of Huck's smooth skin and rough hands made my belly flutter. It was a challenge to erase my blush by the time Reese reached me.

Dressed in black shorts, a tight, fitted tank-top and hand-wraps, he was ready for the upcoming match. I appreciated that, even if I still felt ill watching Reese pummel his challengers into broken messes.

He was a violent man—I hated being near him.

But I fucking had to.

“Glad you made it,” he said, reaching down to wrap me in a hug.

Flinching, I shrugged out of the embrace. “Of course I made it. I always make it. It isn't like I have a choice.”

Reese wrinkled his nose, scratched his shoulder. “Yeah, well. Anyway. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I got you something.”

In the two years we'd dated, on and off, not once had he remembered my birthday. I'd always waved my hand, made excuses. Fuck, I was so good at excuses.

I wanted to tell him how shocked I was. I never got to speak.

Reese was on me, fingers catching my upper arms, lips crushing on mine in a kiss. He didn't get far, but I hated that he had touched me at all. Jamming my nails into his forearms, I shoved him back until he stopped. “What the hell?” I gasped, cradling my cheek like he'd punched me.

His square jaw hung low, brown eyes almost... hurt. But no, I knew this man. It sucked that it had taken so long to figure him out—to accept the kind of person that he was—but now I knew. It helped that I'd had a nice wake up call when I'd walked in on him at our apartment a month ago, balls deep in some girl I didn't even know.

Reese wasn't sad from my rejection.

He was fucking insulted.

“What the hell?” he repeated me, tilting his head. “I thought you'd like that. I was trying to be sweet for you.”

“You have no right to be 'sweet' to me—to even touch me!” Rubbing my lips frantically, I didn't mute my disgust. “You lost the right to do that when you cheated on me. Remember?”

His thick shoulders went up to his ears. “Oh, come on! That was like, weeks ago! I thought we could make up, that you'd forgive me by now.”

“Why would I ever forgive you?”

Energy boiled in his glare. Those flames of danger, the heat that had once enticed me to Reese, now turned my heart chilly. “Because you fucking owe me, Zoe.” I didn't like the flat edge in his voice. “You know you do.”

This was what made my situation dreadful. There were many parts of this that I hated. The constant threat over my head, though? That scraped at my soul.

Reese knew he had me. Without him, I was fucked.

With him... I still felt fucked.

So why was I putting up with him? Why did I let him touch me and coerce me and constantly try to use my body, all when he was a worthless piece of shit? He always reminded me that I 'owed' him. And... he wasn't entirely wrong.

But that didn't mean that every time I saw him, he was allowed to put his hands on me.

Something inside me fractured away. It drifted and became dust, burned by my rising, self-righteous heat.

There are moments where ignoring our pride would serve us best. This was probably one of them. I should have agreed with my ex, bowed my head, and gone on with my night. Instead, I locked my eyes on Reese's. “I don't owe you shit.”

Laughing, he threw his hands in the air. “Yeah? You think so? Fine. Enjoy your evening.” Twirling, his broad back was all he showed me. Long legs took him halfway up the stairs in a blink.

“Where the hell are you going?” I asked, following in his wake. My panic was rising. “You have a match, Reese!” Oh god, it's happening. He's really abandoning me.

Pausing, he tossed me a smile so bitter that I could taste it. “No. You have a match. I've been doing this for you, remember?”

“You promised me that you'd help me with this! You're supposed to fight in each match until I've paid off the fucking loan!”

“Guess I just feel like I don't owe you shit, Zoe.” His teeth were dark grey in the stairwell shadows. “Have a good night. Say hi to Nehro for me.” I heard him even after he vanished, heavy steps—the metallic crunch of the building door.

Fuck. I should have bit my damn tongue.

Roughing up my hair, I tugged at the roots. What was I supposed to do now? I had a god damn contract to fulfill. With my ex gone, who would fight in the pit? Nehro was going to kill me. No, I thought, my lungs going tight. Worse. Way worse. My debt ran deep. I knew what was facing me.

Without a fighter, I was breaking the agreement. Reese... he'd been to every match since the start. I should have foreseen that the breakup would have made him less willing to help, but... I never thought he'd bail. I should have seen this coming.

Fucking hell, I was so tired of this crap. I blamed myself for the mess, I'd made too many wrong choices. I wasn't going to let Reese walk all over me, though. Fuck him for thinking he could betray me and then just get back in my pants. Use me because without him...

Without him I was screwed.

Biting my thumbnail, I looked around the room. There was a match about to start, how long did I have until mine? If Nehro found out I'd come up empty, I was done. I knew what he had planned for me.

Like I'd summoned him, I saw the tall, long haired man coming my way. Nehro dressed like a Gothic vampire, all latex and boots and spikes. It was funny, though he was anything but.

When I'd first met him, I'd thought he was a joke. Then he'd handed me the money I needed, and I'd decided he was someone to take seriously.

I ached for the days before I knew what he had planned. I'd been ignorant. Ignorance was nice, sometimes.

“Zoe,” he purred, his hands deep in his jacket pockets. “I saw Reese leave. Do tell me he's coming back.”

Shivering, I swallowed my bile down. “No. He's not.”

Arching a thin brow, Nehro sighed sympathetically. “Oh dear. That's awful—for you, I mean.” Looking around, he eyed the place as if he could see my future among the rabble. “What are we going to do about that?”

Sweat ran down my ribs. “It's fine, really. I'll find someone to fill Reese's spot.” The lie spilled free, my courage fake and hollow.

The dubious stare Nehro shot me didn't help my confidence. “Who could you find at this hour to stand in?”

“I've got someone in mind. Just give me thirty minutes, okay?” I didn't have a clue who I'd find. He couldn't know that, though. I had to figure something out.

Like a spider, he inched towards me and set long fingers on my shoulder. Nehro rolled a strand of my hair, tugged it with false affection. “Thirty minutes. You find a replacement, or we move to the default section of your contract.” Dipping so that his lips tickled my earlobe, Nehro chuckled—a grizzly sound. “I look forward to your failure. Working off your debt with your body won't be so bad. Trust me.”

Keeping my urge to vomit down, I stood there as he walked away. I had no parting comment, no response. Nehro was a monster. I didn't want to test how far he'd push that fucking contract. It's true that he couldn't legally force me into prostitution.

Legality doesn't matter when the life of a loved one is on the line.

Wiping my palms on my dress, I started to dig for a tissue. I wanted so badly to scrub at where he'd touched me. Shuffling in my purse, my fingers brushed something flat. The sharp corner pricked me. What the hell?

Into the light, I held the business card high. I'd like to pretend that angels sang and bells twinkled. Here was my answer, and just having an answer should have been uplifting. But calling in favors was the thing I hated most—it's what had gotten me where I was. I didn't want help. I just... needed it.

Turning the card, I read the scrawling crimson letters against their dark purple background. Huxton Blake. Muscle for hire. Isn't that what I'm looking for?

Scrunching my eyes shut, I yanked out my phone and climbed the stairs. I felt Nehro's intense stare the whole time. He probably thought I was trying to bail. I would have, if that was possible.

Breathing deep, I held my lungs at full capacity. When I went dizzy, and still no other solutions came to mind, I let the air rush out. This was it. I had to fucking do it.

Seeing Huck again wasn't ideal. The guy threw me for a loop the way every tough acting, confident bad boy type did. I hated that, so the easiest path was to step back and avoid him... and everyone like him.

Reese had been the final straw. I was soured on assholes. They seemed strong and acted like they were into you, but they always bailed when they couldn't get you to spread your legs. They thought with their damn dicks.

I knew better. Even if Huck had made me swoon with his rock-hard body and cocky attitude, I fucking knew better. I would get out of this whole mess. Except to do that...

I had to beg him for help.

This would be the last time. God, let it be the last time.

Lifting my phone, I eyed the card and tapped the numbers in. The ringing was a gong in my skull. Part of me didn't want him to answer. My gut knew he was my only option.

The ringing was cut off. “Hello?” Huck's smooth voice, it had my blood tingling. Even when he wasn't close to me, he was getting under my skin. “Who is this?”

Pacing through the gym, I clutched the phone. It was astounding that my tongue was working. “Huxton? This is Zoe.” I paused, debating how to explain. “From the birthday, earlier.”

“I remember.” Was he smiling? It sure sounded like it. “Honestly, I didn't think you'd call so fast.”

Standing straight, I didn't dwell on his implication that I would have called him at all. “I have... sort of an emergency.” Lifting the card, I read it again, giving myself strength. “When you said you could be hired for muscle, did you mean it?”

Maybe the frantic, breathy quality to my words gave him the hint that I was nervous. His voice dropped, fierce and without question. “What's wrong. Tell me.”

His bluntness cut right to the point. I appreciated that. “Can you get to the cross-street of Hollywood and Oak in thirty minutes?”

Something jingled in the background. His keys? Was he already moving? “Yes, but you need to tell me why.”

“I know. I'm pretty sure you won't like the reason.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Picturing how Huxton had shoved Kit out the door, I steeled myself. “Huck, have you ever been in a fight? A real fight?”

On the end of the line, there was a moment of quiet. Cold ice rolled down my back, my brain quick to imagine him hanging up and leaving me without a solution. What was I thinking? I didn't know this guy, he'd been a stranger who'd rubbed up on me at my party. There was no way he'd want to show up somewhere in the middle of the night just because I rang his damn number.

Why would Huck ever fight for me?

I wasn't ready for his laugh, or how genuine and rough it was. “Hollywood and Oak, you said?” That time, I recognized the sound of an engine revving. “See you in thirty, sugar.”

I turned the card in my hand for the twelfth time. The edges were bending from how I fingered it. It was all I had to convince myself I wasn't about to get fucked over. Again and again, I read those words and tried to find some faith.

Muscle for Hire. He'll do it, it's a job to him. I was going to be rescued by a male stripper.

Footsteps on the stairs reached my ears. I watched as Nehro climbed into view, his smile too sweet. His voice was candy and arsenic. “It's time. Unless your fighter is invisible...” Craning his neck, he mocked me by searching the gym. We both knew no one was here. “I'm about to have some angry customers, Zoe.”

Cringing, I held the business card so tight it cut into my palm. “He's coming. I swear, he'll be here any second.”

“Who is he?” Strolling towards me, Nehro held his shoulders back; a proud walk. “Is it Reese, did you call him and ask him to return?”

“No,” I snapped. “Of course I didn't.” I had no plans to ask him for help. He'd already tried to abuse the frail nation that I owed him for introducing me to Nehro. A thing I regretted every fucking time I walked into this building.

Dark, silky hair slid over his neck when Nehro angled his face like an owl. “Begging your ex to save you is worse than spreading your legs for me, I take it.” The jagged edge of his smirk turned my stomach.

Crushing the piece of cardboard, I felt my optimism fading. Huck wasn't going to show. Time was up for me. “I'd fight in the ring myself before I'd let you make money off of my body.”

“Fighting is making money with your body.” He studied me, smugness shifting into curiosity. “You know the men wouldn't go easy on you in the ring. You'd let someone bust up your pretty jaw, just to save your pride?”

“Save my pride,” I chuckled cynically. “That's a polite way to phrase not wanting to be whored out to pay off a debt.”

He wasn't smiling any longer. “I can stop being polite, if that's what you prefer.” Two steps, he was on me. Nehro's aura was a razor on my throat. He didn't need to hold the weapon for me to feel the danger. “You're out of time, Zoe. I'm not about to let you get destroyed in the ring. Your body is worth much more.”

Looking down his nose at me, his slippery smile grew anew. He said softly, “I'd fight you myself. I could guarantee you came to no real harm.” Nehro scraped a fingernail along my forearm. “Just enough pain to show you this path ends with your pink lips and sweet cunt filling my wallet. It ends with you on your knees, until you're cleared of what you owe me.”

True terror locked up my tendons. I wanted to spit on him, and all I did was hold my breath and pray for a fucking miracle.

Echoing through the gym, the tapping on the door made me flinch. Nehro blinked, glaring at the entrance accusingly. Again, sharper than before, the knocking came. “Hello?” Huxton called, muffled through the wall. “It's me, Huck. You in there?”

Nehro shared a look with me. Breaking away, I ducked and wrenched the door up so fast it pulled my shoulder painfully. “Yes! I'm in here!”

Standing in the blue of the night, his body lit up like a fucking angel in the golden glow of the gym, Huxton was as close to a saint as I'd come across in a long while.

He wasn't nearly-naked like I'd seen him last, nor was he in the stuffy suit he'd stripped out of. In dark jeans and a closed leather jacket, he looked casual—wonderful. I spotted the motorcycle in the alley behind him. It explained how he'd gotten here so fast... or just fast enough.

The tattooed man took me in, his grin extremely pleased. “Hey there, long time no see.”

What a fucking joker. But he'd made me smile, though I think it was from relief more than anything else. “You made it. I thought—” Cutting myself off, I jammed the card into my purse. It didn't hold a square shape anymore, my palm was covered in red lines from the tension of squeezing it. “Come on, we need to get you ready.”

“Right, ready.” His attention shot over my head. I followed the look; Huck had noticed Nehro. Lowering the door, he spoke to me softly, never taking his wary stare off of the other man. “You could start by telling me what's going on.”

Nehro cleared his throat. “So, you're the one she called.” Extending a hand, he waited for Huck to shake it. “I'm Nehro Grant, her... employer.”

Standing to his full height, making me realize he was just big enough to look down on Nehro, Huxton shook his hand. “You don't say? I'm Huxton, guess I'm technically Zoe's employee for the evening.” He winked at me, and I knew he had no clue how serious all of this was. How could he?

Shit. Calling him had been a selfish move. What was wrong with me? Self-preservation, I told myself firmly. Desperation. I had no choice. It didn't make me feel any better.

Nehro chuckled, the knuckles in his hand going white. He was squeezing Huck roughly, eyeing me in distaste. “Employee? That's one way to look at it. Do you know why you're even here?”

Pulling his arm back, Huck was unfazed. He didn't act like Nehro's handshake had hurt at all. “Sure do,” he grunted.

No, he didn't. I was grateful he was lying for me. Having Nehro learn that Huxton had been my get-out-of-jail-free card was demoralizing. I wanted to get him alone so I could spill the details out of earshot.

Crinkling my nose, I put a hand on Huck's shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. “Alright, enough chit-chat. There's a schedule to keep.” Leaning up, I hissed into his ear quietly. “I promise I'll tell you what's going on, just... away from him.”

Nehro followed us down into the basement. The crowd was buzzing, impatient for the next fight—my fight—to begin. Under my palm, Huck's back was flexing through his jacket. I knew how good his skin felt, I'd experienced it. I prayed his ripped body wasn't just for show.

At the bottom step, I led Huxton towards a far wall. There wasn't much down here besides the ring. Nehro had a tiny office across the way, there were some benches in spots but everyone tended to stand around the circle in the cement instead.

I'd never seen another underground fighting pit. I bet they all looked just as grimy. “Okay,” I said, pushing Huck into the corner. “We have maybe three minutes.”

Facing me, he tucked his thumbs into his pockets with a confident smile. “That's very specific.”

Jerking my head towards the round clock on the wall, I spoke faster. “You should have been in the ring five minutes ago. Nehro is smoothing it over.” I could hear the change in the air, angry murmurs becoming agitated, but subdued. “What do you have on under your jacket?”

“I thought you called me to be your muscle, not to get me naked again.”

Heat swam up my neck. “This is serious.”

Pursing his lips, Huck slowly zipped the front down. “Stripping for you certainly was serious.” It took a great effort not to let my mouth fall open. He saw into my head, or the guy was just good at body language, because why else was he smirking so wickedly?

The shirt he had on was basic grey, long sleeved for the season. Too easy to grab, plus it'd slow him down. “That's going to suck to fight in,” I muttered. “The jeans might be alright, but...”

“Back up. Tell me who the hell I'm even fighting.” Scanning the mass of people, he looked less surprised than I thought he should.

There was a giant erase-board nailed to the opposite wall, close to Nehro's office. Pointing, I reached out to take his jacket. “His name is Shrapnel. Here, let me hold that for you.”

Huck offered me the garment, eyes slitting together. “Shrapnel? Sounds dangerous.”

Clutching the leather, feeling Huxton's warmth on it, I nodded. “He's not exactly going to hug you.” His smile melted, and with it went whatever fraction of false courage I had left. The shame was bigger, weighing me down. “Look... maybe this was stupid of me. Asking you to go in there and take on a guy you don't even know, it's kind of insane.”

Fuck. I was talking my only savior right out the god damn door. Huxton fighting was the only method left to avoid paying Nehro off in whatever perverse fashion he could come up with. If he just fought for me, just tonight... I could find someone else for next time.

Maybe.

...Doubtfully.

But I'd have the time to try.

“Calling me wasn't stupid.”

Stunned, I struggled to find my tongue and make words. “What?” Through the air, a bell chimed. The last warning, the fight was going to start now—or not at all.

Huck turned away from me, strolling toward the ring as he talked. “Muscle for hire, that's my job. Besides...” Tossing me one last smile, he peeled his shirt over his head and exposed his marble-carved body to the room. “You're acting like this is going to be my first fight.”

My heart swayed. Could he get away with being so cocky? “Do whatever you have to in there,” I blurted. “Shrapnel... he won't hold back. This isn't normal fighting. This is illegal, violent stuff. You could get really hurt in there.” You could die. I didn't say that last part.

Would you believe that his amusement never faltered? “Again. Not my first fight, doll.”

I caught his shirt when he threw it. Eyes had turned our way, Huxton weaving through the crowd with me chasing his heels. The ring was just a thick chalk outline, wide as a backyard swimming pool. On one end waited Shrapnel, a man with just as much mass as Huck—and no where near the same stock-pile of smiles.

Nehro hovered by that side of the ring, his arms linked behind his back. Those piercing eyes found me among the shouting bodies. I didn't appreciate the anger in his frown. He'd wanted me to fail. The bastard had thought he'd had me tonight.

Well, too bad for him. Even if Huck lost, I was safe. I'd fulfilled the shitty, iron-clad bargain. One fighter per event, that was my part of the deal. Screw Reese... I'd come out on top.

You're just going to owe someone else, now.

My reality was cold and hollow. I buried it under my rush of excitement. The tension in the air had hit a peak now that the fighters were both facing off.

Shrapnel had wrapped his hands, the red tape foreboding. Many men had soaked his knuckles with blood. The guy was a brute, no mouth guard and missing teeth. Scars dappled his skin where tattoos didn't, and he'd shaved his head so that no one could grab his hair.

He didn't play around.

Huck is about to get destroyed. Knotting my hands in my dress, I migrated around the ring—shoving the screaming attendees aside—until I was able to get a better look at the green-eyed man. He was standing comfortably on the balls of his feet, fists low at his hips. I looked and felt more nervous than he did.

Again, I found myself appreciating his appearance. I wouldn't ever call myself shallow, but I had a type and as much as I loathed that—Huck fit the bill. His strong jaw had a slight indent, his cheekbones solid, ready to cut glass. Thick, blue-black hair, a dapple of stubble that gave him a relaxed appearance. Huck wasn't the kind of guy who worried if he was shaved clean.

How would that roughness feel on my skin?

He'd whispered in my ear before, touched me, rubbed close... but not once had I felt the scrape of his five o'clock shadow.

A bruise-colored heart pulsed on his jugular, dangling knuckles stamped in diamonds. It was funny. He'd been all over me earlier, but I'd been entirely too wrapped up in my battling emotions to catalog him so well.

I'm doing it now because—why? Eyeing the way his belt clung to his hips, I shivered. Because I know when he loses, he's going to look nothing like this ever again.

Shrapnel would pummel Huck into puree.

Nehro shouted, voice booming over the roar. “Shrapnel versus Huxton! Betting is closed, folks. Standard rules, no weapons...” He looked right at me. “And no mercy.”

There was a second where time stood still. I felt it, debated the things I could or could not do. Leaping into the ring would have been heroic. Foolish. It would seal my future.

It could save his.

Maybe, after I died and met my maker, they would consider that I'd at least thought about stopping this massacre. I didn't deserve that kind of consideration, though. There was no salvation for fuck-ups like me; in this world, or the next.

A bell rang, stopping my white knight dreams in their tracks. Shrapnel spit on the ground, fists held high by his square jaw. He'd never met Huck, but it was obvious to everyone that this new fighter in our ring hadn't come prepared. Who fought in jeans and boots, who didn't at least wrap their hands or put on gloves?

I'd have given him some, if I'd had any. I owned no gear that would fit him. I owned... nothing. Increasingly nothing, not even my own life.

Nehro held that in his spidery fingers.

The men studied each other as they circled. Huck's steps were fluid, slow, and never moving closer. He kept a constant gap between them.

Shrapnel was eager to get in that space.

Everyone screamed—delight for most, panic for me—when Shrapnel leapt forward. He propelled himself, a living projectile. A ham-sized fist sought out Huck's beautiful, unfairly handsome face.

I'd known this would go bad. I hadn't expected this bad, or so fast, but—fuck. I was a worse monster than Nehro. I'd put Huck in front of a god damn train, waved my hand and said Good luck!

I deserved what was going to happen to me.

Every molecule in the air vibrated expectantly. Huck's face, against all odds, didn't explode into fragmented red. Faster than seemed possible, he ducked low and rolled away. That alone had my mouth falling open. But he wasn't done.

Spinning on his knees, Huck threw his arms out and tackled Shrapnel around his thighs. The thick man toppled over, grunting in disbelief. With the upper hand, Huck wrenched a shoulder back and crushed his knuckles straight into his opponent's temple.

A hush lulled the crowd. It hung a mere second, then resurfaced as a tornado of cheers and fucking barking. They weren't human, they were animals.

Liquid pride flooded me. Holy shit! Cupping my palms around my mouth, I joined in the noise. Huck's jacket and shirt came along for the ride, his essence sinking through my nose and into my brain. My lungs thrummed with pure excitement. It wasn't possible. This wasn't possible.

But it was happening.

He was winning...

I was winning.

Not wanting to look away from the fight, Nehro still caught my eye on the opposite end of the pit. There was no disguising the horrific tilt to his tight lips. His entire aura smoldered, a nuclear flare that begged to leave me in ruin.

That man, he hated what was happening—hated that I was slipping away.

I lifted my head and gave him the biggest smile I could.

Shrapnel growled, shoulders rippling. More bear than human, he tore at Huck and threw him to the side. Wincing, Huck skidded to a halt on his knees. Those green eyes flashed, looking past Shrapnel—right at me.

My heart burrowed down into my stomach.

I wanted to scream, “Don't watch me, watch him!” I'd lost my voice, hands making a megaphone that I never used. What was Huck doing? He had to get up, Shrapnel was going to cave his brains in!

The giant man's skull gleamed in the overhead lights. He grinned, teeth crimson from his own blood. For the second time, he spat on the gritty floor.

Unlike Huck, Shrapnel never took his eyes off his target. He'd been meant to fight my ex. If that had happened, he would have lost. Reese, for all his flaws, was an expert fighter.

Now, facing down someone like Huck, Shrapnel was cocky. He was going to win, that realization gleamed in his dish-water eyes.

In a rush, air returned to my lungs. I pushed it out and up, begged my tongue to do something useful. “Huck!” I screamed, tearing at my vocal cords. I needed to be heard over the blood thirsty shouts. “Look out! Move!”

That stupid fucking grin of his. He'd die with it so firmly on his face.

Shrapnel rammed forward, reaching for Huxton. Slippery lightening, Huck darted aside at the last second. The momentum sent the other man flying, falling into the cement. A rabid animal, yet somehow entirely in control, my fighter—my fighter—jumped onto the broad back of his enemy.

Tattooed arms wound tight, sinking into Shrapnel's trunk-like throat from behind. The raspy gag as the man choked for air ricocheted around the ring. People pumped their fists, no longer obvious in who they cheered for.

I realized I was digging my nails into my palms. Shaking, I forced my fingers to unclench. I couldn't make my stomach do the same.

Sweat glistened along Huxton's spine. Every fiber flexed, I could count each of them. I did it, just to keep myself focused. They popped along his shoulders and forearms. Under him, Shrapnel strained... and in a great wave, went entirely limp.

It was happening for real. Huck had done it.

We'd really won.

My ears rang with the new roars of adrenaline. Howling, they became wolves under a full moon. Everyone was jumping, shoving, clapping or scowling. Money did funny things to people. So did violence.

Pushing through the mess, I darted over the chalk outline just as Huck let Shrapnel go. The big man was still, mouth open and drooling blood. He'd be fine. This was probably one of the least messy fights Shrapnel had come out of.

“Huck,” I gasped, reaching out for him instinctively. I needed to know he was really okay, and that... that he didn't hate me for getting him into this.

Turning, he looked down and met my eyes. There was nothing even close to hate there. Not anger, not disgust. Emeralds watched me, glowing like Huck had eaten the sun and replaced his blood with it.

Dammit. The bastard had my heart pumping again.

Grinning crookedly, he said, “Are there more of them?”

I blinked. “More what?”

“Men I need to tear down for you.” His eyebrows drifted low, shining with the dampness of his sweat. I forgot how words even worked.

Footsteps came to us, men bending down to drag Shrapnel away. They'd patch him up, make sure he was fine. It was doubtful he'd go to a hospital. Nehro had people he could pay that were almost as good as real doctors. Involving actual hospitals put the ring at risk.

Nehro liked to gamble... but he was too smart for risks.

Thinking about the long-limbed man, I glanced around. Nehro was gone, no where to be seen. That was more than fucking fine. My match was done, I wanted to get out of here. I avoided Nehro like the plague when I could.

“Well?” Huck asked, rolling his neck, testing the muscles. “The fights. Are they over?”

Shaking myself, I stared back up at him. Oh. Right. That whole thing.

Clearing my throat, I motioned for the stairwell. “They aren't done, but for you they are.” Handing him his jacket and shirt, I regretfully watched him hide himself under the clothing. “Let's go, you could use some air.”

And so could I.