I have to find her and stop her before she enters that cage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tate
My hands are taped up, and I feel so wound up that walking takes more thought than it should. I feel sick. I can’t tell if it’s from the fight or the betrayal of not telling Camden where I am weighing heavy on me.
I close my eyes, thinking of the money I’m going to win, how my Dad will keep the house and maybe I can get Journey some help, maybe she’ll even want to go to college. Opening my eyes I blow out a ragged breath.
I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die.
My walkout music plays, and I’m pushed on the lower back.
“Fucking win me some money!”
The metal door unlocks and the two men that showed us in await me.
Stepping out they start walking, and I follow. They lead me out of one cylinder tunnel to another. The dim lights passing one by one as I finally meet the end of the cove. The space opens up similar to one of an arena but I can’t see much. I see tinted privacy boxes at the very top, and I can see a crowd of people but I can’t make out faces from the smog and smoke circling the air like death gypsies waiting for me to inhale my last breath.
Slowly I keep walking and the visibility gets worse, the smell gets worse. Musty mold mixed with expensive perfume and cigar smoke choke me. The ground beneath my bare feet becoming dirty and slimy.
Finding the ring I notice a man wearing white jersey shorts and a black shirt. He’s large and looks bored as he opens the door to the octagon.
“Good luck,” he smiles, and pushes me in the back. What is the deal with everyone pushing me?
I stall, realizing he didn’t check me for illegal substances or weapons, and didn’t apply any Vaseline to my face.
I turn, ready to ask him about it, and he turns his back.
Oh this is going to be bad. So bad. Shaking my hands I try to ease my nerves, breathing slow breaths as I look around the octagon.
I notice blood stains that have turned orange, near brown, and my eyes widen as I rub at my forehead. Looking up I find this is not an ordinary octagon, this is a cage. There’s no escape.
Fuck what have I gotten myself into?
The crowd hollers as another song is played. Stepping up to the metal that makes the cage, my fingers lock in the holes and I try to look out to see who I am fighting. I wonder if she’s taller, or weighs more. I wonder if this is even a fair fight.
I hear the man who wished me good luck repeat the exact words and I turn, finding my opponent.
I see dark hair.
Strong shoulders.
It’s a guy.
My chest rises and falls quickly as he enters the cage. His head lowered he meets my gaze with haunted eyes.
It’s Chase.
I feel dizzy as it sets in who I’m being thrown in a cage with. Chase is going to destroy me.
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this!” his voice grave.
The door to the cage is slammed shut. Then locked. I jump, and goosebumps rise along my arms.
I bounce on my feet trying to heighten my adrenaline rush, but fear is hindering its way through.
I can do this. I can do this.
“Are you ready for a fight that will leave you at the edge of your seat?” The announcer speaks into the intercom, and the crowd goes crazy. “A fight that has never before seen between woman and man!” The crowd responds, and I roll my shoulders, accepting the challenge. I’ve always wanted to prove women belong in the ring just as much as men do. Here’s my chance.
Right?
“Let’s give a big round of applause to Tate ‘HellCat’ Davis, and Chase ‘Sidewinder’ Hide!” Catcalls and applause ring out and before I can react Chase comes at me fists swinging.
I duck, and deliver a strike right to his chest. My heart beating so hard it drowns out the roaring crowd.
He grapples me and tries to take me down and I deliver a right cross hook right to his chin making him stumble back. My hit fast and quick.
My heart is racing causing me to lose my stamina quicker than it should so I jump back and circle him. There’s no rounds, so I don’t get a break. I have to slow my pace or I’ll be out of the fight.
“Aww, come on kitty kitty, I just want to play,” Chase taunts following me around the cage.
His eyes flash with a primitive energy, he’s truly enjoying this. He loves this sketchy bullshit. He wants to be here.
He strikes, but misses.
I jab and hit him in the nose, blood trickling from his nostril. He laughs as blood pools between his lips, staining his teeth as he grins wickedly at me.
Cornering me in he delivers a strike right to my rib and the wind is knocked from me. I swear my ribs crack, and the burning sensation has me double over in an amount of pain I can’t compare to anything. I try to breathe through the pain, to regain my composure but the pain is too much.
He hits me again right in in the face and my eyebrow splits wide open, warm blood pouring into my view. My head rings, and my vision blurs from the strike.
My ears ring as I fumble on the ground.
What the hell?
His hits are hard, too hard.
I look at his gloves and notice the tape around his knuckles outlining more than knuckles. Faint gold shining through split tape I realize why he’s hitting with such force.
He has fucking brass knuckles on!
“Hey!” I yell at the guy standing outside the ring, trying to inform him of the knuckles.
I run to the other side of the ring, wiping and smearing blood from my eye from my face.
“He has brass knuckles!” My voice cracking from the pain.
The guy standing guard outside of the door smiles at me, and turns his back.
I look back at Chase who is laughing, pacing back and forth.
I’m fucked. I’m stuck in here with a monster.
I have to keep my distance, anything up close and those knuckles will destroy me. I can’t give up. Even if my fear is telling me to give in, I am not leaving without a fight.
Following me, he comes at me, trying to take me down and I run out of the way. Fighting ethics gone, this is about survival.
He chuckles, and follows me.
I swing and miss, and he takes me to the floor.
He strikes me in the ribs, and the sound of the crack can be felt to my toes. I scream out in pain, but try to focus.
A fist comes into view and I jerk my head to the side, the punch vibrating through my body as it hits the floor.
Using all the energy I have, I jab him in the chin, and his head whips back. Lifting my legs I wrap them around him, trying to gain control and suddenly he’s pulled from me.
I roll over, tears filling my eyes.
Finally someone saw he had brass knuckles on and stopped the fight
.
I moan in pain, and fight through the blurriness that is trying to take over, finding Chase struggling on the other side of the ring.
I wipe my eyes trying to clear the blood and tears, and see Camden laying into Chase relentlessly.
Nobody stopped the fight.
Camden stepped into the ring!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Camden
My untaped fists drive into Chase’s face one after another. So much anger and rage release through each hit, I can’t fucking stop.
Each hit ricocheting from my knuckles up my wrist and forearm, the sound of skin against skin fueling me toward dominating this motherfucker.
Nobody lays a hand on my woman.
It’s just monster against beast now.
He struggles trying to block my hits but his weak attempts are no match for my experience.
His legs come up trying to wrap around me and I anchor myself on top of him, he’s not going anywhere.
My vision turns red as rage takes over my original intent of being in this fucking cage. I came to protect Tate, but being in this ring the beast wants out.
A feral roar rips up my throat as I grab hold of Chase’s head ready to snap his life into nothing. Chase’s mangled faces blurs into Bret’s and I clench my eyes shut.
“You know what I think your problem is? You’re stuck in the past and can’t move forward Camden. You have to forgive yourself, grieve, and move on.”
Tate’s words string into my mind and I freeze. My hands gripping Chase’s head, my knees pressing into the cage’s floor as I straddle him.
My heart thuds against my chest, its rhythm lullabying me into wanting to end Chase’s life. But I stop.
Why am I stopping?
If anyone deserves to die it should be him.
“Camden,” the strangled cry has me whipping my head in Tate’s direction. She’s lying on her side, blood staining her face. If anything, seeing her like that should fuel me towards ending Chase’s worthless life. But her eyes convey I don’t need to kill him that I can stand up and walk away. If there’s ever a chance of me moving past what happened with Bret and getting my life back, it’s now.
I grit my teeth, and close my eyes. The emotion and anger thundering in my chest battling my decision.
“Just walk away, Camden,” I mutter to myself.
Opening my eyes, I throw Chase’s head on the ground and push up off my knees, standing on me feet.
Flexing my fingers I step toward Tate to help her up, declaring this fight over for her. She looks up at me and her eyes flash with an unreadable look.
Everything happens in slow motion.
She pushes to her feet before I can stop her and races past me. Looking over my shoulder I see Chase coming at me with brass knuckles torn through his fighting tape. He’s so close there’s no escaping the hit that is about to set forth on my face, he’s going to hit me and it’s going to hurt.
Like a brick wall Tate’s fist stops Chase in the middle of a strike knocking him off his feet. Her fist colliding with his jaw perfectly he falls on his back knocked out cold.
I can’t help the pride that runs through me as she just knocked that asshole out all on her own.
Tate stops, bending over as her adrenaline rush fades as quickly as it came. Pain taking over her whole body.
Quickly I go to her side, wrapping my arm around her waist. The need to protect her overpowering anything else going on in my head. I need to get her out of here.
“WINNER BY KNOCK OUT, TATE ‘HELLCAT’ DAVIS!” the announcer shouts.
Noticing how much pain Tate is in, I try to pick her up to carry her out and she stops me.
“No, I’m walking out of this cage. Nobody is carrying me.”
I try to fight the smirk pulling at my lips, but it’s no use. The strength this woman has blows my mind. I tuck her arm behind my neck and wrap my hand around her waist to help her hobble out.
“We have a lot to talk about, Tate.”
Tate
Sitting on the bench I wrap my arms around my abdomen. My ribs protesting my sitting up. My bones hurt. Breathing hurts. Everything hurts.
Camden sits between my legs, his hands on either side of my hips as he looks at me with concerned eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, feeling terrible for lying to him.
“You almost cost us that fight!” Debs throws open the metal door, her face flustered. The hairs on my neck stand, knowing shit is about to go down.
Camden closes his eyes and stands.
“You knew I didn’t want her in this fight!” He points at her, talking as if I’m not even in the room. If Camden knew about the fight, then he must have fought in The Underground.
“Was—was this the place you—” I stutter, not wanting to say aloud what he confided in me. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
“Yes,” his voice grave.
I swallow, and look down. It hurts that he didn’t tell me everything, but I didn’t tell him either.
“You, you cost me my payout the first time you asshole! You owed me! You took something away from me I’ll never get back!” Debs begins to pace the locker room.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Camden snaps.
“You killed Bret! He was my fighter, my nephew! We worked hard to make it to the top, that money and contract was ours!” She throws the locker onto the ground, her face streaked with tears. I flinch from the loud crash of the locker and the floor. Bret, the name sounds familiar.
“Bret?” I ask, wanting someone to connect the dots.
Camden looks over his shoulder at me. “Bret Hollis.”
My eyes flash with recognition. He went to our school. But how did he end up in the cage with Camden? It doesn’t make sense.
“Debs, I—” Camden begins but Debs cuts him off.
“No, you don’t get to talk. I finally get to talk. All those bullshit contracts and them saying he died of injuries inside the ring when really you murdered him!”
This fucking underground must have known Camden knew Bret. Just like they knew Chase and I knew each other. They play on our emotions, wanting us to turn from friend to enemy. I want to say it’s because it’s a bigger pay out, but it feels personal.