Page 36

T he underground fight club is ablaze tonight. The energy is a beast all its own—wild, untamed, and unapologetically raw. Like always, it’s chaos in its purest form. Guys hyping each other up as if they’re not just spectators but part of the primal violence themselves.

The floor vibrates beneath the pounding bass of some overplayed track I can’t be bothered to identify. It’s always loud, always ugly—but tonight, there’s something different in the air.

It’s a girl fight.

I can tell from the way the idiots talk, their words dripping with a sick kind of excitement. They act like girl fights are some sort of rare gem, worth more than the usual knuckle-breaking, testosterone-fueled slugfests.

And in a way, they are rare.

The girls don’t step into the cage unless it’s personal. And when they do, it’s not just about the win—it’s about the carnage.

So why the hell am I here? I don’t even know. All I know is that I’m surrounded by the mess of it, and the pit in my stomach is growing with every second. My gaze sweeps the room.

I should’ve stayed home.

I should’ve stayed with her.

Spent the night sinking deep inside Sable’s cunt until the morning. Instead, she asked for a solo date with Levi, and the other two dragged me out, saying that we needed to make an appearance—for the frat.

Ahead of me, Kai and Dayton weave through the crowd. They’re grinning like madmen, slapping backs and making small talk, their voices loud enough to draw attention.

They’re loving this.

Whatever this is.

Kai glances over his shoulder, and his smirk widens when he catches the look on my face. “C’mon, man. We left Levi at home so we didn’t have to deal with a grump.”

I grunt, not trusting myself to speak and shove my hands deeper into my hoodie, making a mental note to remind Kai of his insult to Levi when we get back home to make Levi extra grumpy.

Don’t call me a fucking grouch. Payback is a bitch.

My gut’s screaming at me to turn around, but my pride won’t let me. Backing down now would be like handing them the win before the game even starts.

And I’m not about to give those assholes the satisfaction.

The crowd shifts, parting just enough for us to move closer to the cage. Familiar faces blur past me—OCK guys, some frat brothers I barely tolerate, and randoms who thrive on the chaos this place breeds. It’s all too loud, too much.

Dayton slaps my back, his hand landing with enough force to make me stumble forward. His grin stretches wide, his blue eyes gleaming with barely restrained laughter.

“C’mon. Don’t be a fucking stick in the mud,” he says.

I’m about to snap back when the lights dim just a little, enough to make the crowd erupt into a frenzy. My head snaps toward the cage, and for a moment, everything else fades. The figures stepping into the ring are just silhouettes against the harsh light.

But then one of them steps forward, and the breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

Her.

Sable.

She’s there.

In the cage.

Dressed in sleek black gear that clings to her in the best way, her dark hair pulled into her signature no-nonsense ponytail. She looks… lethal. Ready. This isn’t her first time stepping into a fight. And I know it isn’t. But that doesn’t make the sight of her here any easier to swallow.

The crowd roars louder when her opponent steps in. My stomach drops as I see who it is—Gracie. Victor’s girlfriend. The bitch who has always had a chip on her shoulder the size of a goddamn mountain.

“What the fuck?”

I feel a shove at my back, and I don’t even need to look to know it’s Dayton again. He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

“You’re welcome, man,” he says.

I round on him, but my words get stuck in my throat. My head is spinning, confusion and anger tangling into a knot I can’t unravel. This can’t be real. They wouldn’t—he wouldn’t—put her in the ring like this. Not with Gracie. Not for some fucking joke.

Sable’s standing firm, her fists clenched tight, her stance solid. Staring Gracie down like she’s ready to tear her apart, and maybe she is. Sable doesn’t do things halfway.

Kai catches my eye from across the space. “You good, Silas?”

“No. What the fuck is going on?”

Dayton steps beside me, arms crossed over his chest, his grin as infuriating as ever. “Relax, man. It’s just a fight. Thought you’d like a front-row seat to see our girl handle business.”

What the fuck is she doing?

Gracie bounces on her toes, throwing punches in the air, trying to psyche Sable out. But Sable… she doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. Her focus is absolute, locked onto her opponent.

The bell rings.

Sable’s like a fucking machine. She’s not just fighting—she’s executing a plan.

A deadly, precise plan.

Gracie, wild and reckless, lunges first, swinging with more aggression than skill. It’s exactly what Sable was waiting for. She sidesteps smoothly, almost lazily, her body twisting with a dancer’s fluidity as she avoids the hit. Then she strikes—a sharp, brutal jab to Gracie’s ribs that forces her to double over with a wheeze.

The crowd erupts in cheers, but I barely hear them.

I can’t look away from Sable.

She doesn’t bask in the attention. She’s already moving, circling Gracie like a predator sizing up its prey. Her eyes are cold and focused as she scans every opening, every weakness. She blocks a wild punch, catching Gracie’s wrist with one hand and yanking her forward to land an elbow against her jaw. Gracie stumbles, dazed, but Sable doesn’t press forward recklessly. Instead, she steps back, resetting, keeping her stance tight and controlled.

It’s terrifying to watch this combination of raw power and clinical precision. She doesn’t just fight. She dismantles.

“I guess your training with her paid off,” Dayton says, smug as hell.

I feel my teeth grind together. “Shut up.”

Sable and I spend a few days a week at the gym, practicing like we used to when we were younger. We spar often, and I see that all that practice is being used now.

Gracie’s stumbling now, sweat and blood streaking her face as she tries to stay upright. Sable doesn’t let up. She’s punishing her, drawing this out like a cat with a mouse. Not enough to knock her out yet—just enough to make her suffer. A left hook to the ribs, a right jab to the cheek, a sweep of her leg that almost sends Gracie toppling over.

“You think you’re the only one who can throw a punch, bitch?” Sable sneers. The crowd’s roar swallows her words, but I catch them.

The crowd’s shouts blend together, the anthem the same.

“Knock her out, Sable!”

“Give it to her, Gracie!”

“Take her down, Sable. Finish it!”

Gracie tries to rally, throwing a desperate swing, but Sable’s already moved, sidestepping and landing a brutal uppercut that snaps Gracie’s head back. Every hit Sable lands carries a message. You don’t fuck with the Horsemen.

“You’ve got this!” someone yells from the sidelines. I know that voice. It’s Levi. He’s leaning against the cage, watching her with that same hunger in his eyes, like he’s waiting for the kill.

Something inside me snaps at that moment. That look in his eyes—it’s hunger. Pride. Lust. A sick cocktail of emotions I recognize all too well. Anger surges through me. Why the hell didn’t she tell me she was planning this? Why the hell is Levi the one in her corner right now?

Gracie’s legs are legs unsteady, her bloodied face an open canvas of defeat. She can’t keep up. She’s done. Sable delivers a crushing blow to Gracie’s jaw—snap.

Crack.

Gracie’s head jerks back, and for a brief second, her eyes go wide with disbelief. Then she crumples to the floor.

The ref steps in, signaling the end. The fight’s over.

The bell rings, the crowd erupts into chaos, and I stand there, fists clenched at my sides, watching Sable stand victorious in that damn ring. Her hair, damp with sweat, clings to her face and neck, wild strands framing her face. Her lip is split, blood smearing her chin, but she doesn’t seem to care. Her sports bra and shorts are stained with streaks of Gracie’s blood, and her fists are still clenched, knuckles red and bruised. She looks less like her and more like a fucking warrior. A goddess of chaos.

I can barely hear the applause over the pounding blood in my ears. It’s not pride I feel. It’s rage.

What the fuck was she thinking? This reckless, stupid girl—my girl—decides to step into the ring and fight Gracie, a fucking sorority girl that isn’t worth our time. I can’t even focus on the fact that she won because all I can think is how fucking dangerous this was.

And how badly I want to punish her for it.

My hands shake with anger, my jaw clenched so tight I think it might snap. She thinks this is some kind of game, doesn’t she? Just because she can take a punch and dish one out doesn’t mean she’s invincible. She has no idea what she’s playing with.

Before I even know what I’m doing, my body’s moving. I need to get to her.

The crowd parts for me as I surge toward the cage, my mind entirely focused on her. She looks at me then, her eyes flicking over me with that faint, unreadable smile, like she knows exactly what’s coming. It only fuels the fire in my chest.

Without a second thought, I vault over the side of the ring, ignoring the confused shouts and the scramble of guys trying to get out of my way. The moment I hit the mat, my hand shoots out, grabbing her by the arm, hauling her toward me with a force that has her stumbling.

“Silas—” she starts, but I don’t give her the chance to finish. My other arm wraps around her waist, lifting her effortlessly off her feet. Her body’s slick with sweat, her skin warm against me, but it only makes the fury burn hotter.

I hoist her over my shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasps from the crowd. I can feel her muscles tense like she’s about to kick and scream her way free, but I don’t care. This isn’t some romantic gesture or playful fuck around.

This is a message.

She’s going to understand exactly how reckless she’s been.

“Put me down!” She kicks her legs, but I smack her ass, hard, ignoring her squirming as I march toward the locker room.

I push through the door of the locker room, my body buzzing with tension. I slam it shut behind me.

The moment I set her down, she stumbles, catching herself against the wall. Her chest is heaving, her eyes wide, but there’s no hint of apology in them—just that same defiant fire. It’s the way she looks at me like I’m the one in the wrong that pisses me off even more.

“You’re insane,” I growl, stepping toward her, towering over her smaller frame. My hand curls into a fist at my side, but it’s not to hit her.

No, I don’t want to hit her.

I want her to feel this—feel the consequences of her actions.

I want to show her that she’s not untouchable.

She crosses her arms, that arrogant smile curling on her lips. “It’s just a fight, Silas. I knew what I was doing.”

I want to wipe that smile right off her face and shove it down her throat with my cock. “Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that was?”

She meets my glare head-on, but I can see the hint of unease in her eyes now. Maybe she’s finally realizing she pushed me too far.

“I wasn’t going to lose.”

“That’s not the point, Sable. You can’t just go and decide to fight someone to try and get payback for what they did to me.”

“You don’t control me. When are you going to learn that, Silas?”

I reach out, grabbing her by the wrist, and pin her to the locker with my body. My chest is pressed to hers, my breath coming hard as I look down at her, feeling that rush of power surge through me. “You’re lucky you won. You’re lucky I’m not in a worse mood, Sable.”

“What are you going to do, Silas? Punish me?”

“Is that what you want? To be punished?”

She shivers slightly, the tension thick between us, but I don’t give her the chance to say anything else. I claim her mouth with mine, the kiss fierce and demanding, punishing in its own way. She responds immediately like she can’t help herself, her lips parting under mine, giving me all the fire I need to keep pushing.

Without saying another word, I reach behind her to turn her around so her back is exposed to me now. She gasps at the sudden motion, but she doesn’t fight me. I can feel her muscles tightening, ready for whatever I’m about to do next.

“You’ve been a bad Little Devil. And I want to hurt you for being so reckless.”

She wriggles underneath my touch, whimpering when she realizes I’m not fucking around.

“Stay still,” I warn her, pulling down her athletic shorts. This isn’t some playful back-and-forth.

The soft skin of her ass is fully exposed, perky and delicious. One day, I’ll bite it hard enough to leave a permanent mark. Brand her with my teeth. My hand positions itself right above the left cheek. I let the first smack land hard, the sound echoing off the walls as she jerks slightly under the impact.

“Silas!”

I bring my hand down again, harder this time. She gasps, her body jerking forward before she sinks back down. Her breath is quick, shallow, and I know she’s feeling it—the sting, the rush, the heat of it all.

“Tell me, Sable,” I growl, giving her another sharp smack. “Do you regret it? The fight? Or do you need a little more reminder?”

“I… I don’t regret it,” she gasps, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “But I can’t believe you’re doing this…”

She’s not looking at me, but I can feel her anticipating the next move. I move my hand away, pausing for just a moment, letting her feel the emptiness before I bring my hand back down with a sharp smack against her ass.

“Count them out, you’re getting eight more.”

She gasps, the sting from the slap forcing her to take in a quick breath. Her voice is shaky when she responds, “This is ridiculous, Silas,” but I can see the thrill in her eyes, the surrender in her body.

“Count, or I’ll go harder. I’ll make you fucking bleed for me,” I ground out.

“One.”

I don’t say a word, just give her another hard smack—the sound echoing in the small room. This time she doesn’t flinch as much, her body already leaning into the sting.

“Two.”

My hand lands again, sharper, the heat rising as I feel her body react to the impact. She lets out a soft whimper, the sound just enough to drive me wild.

“Three,” she counts, her voice almost a moan this time.

I can tell she’s not in pain anymore. No, she’s into this. She’s feeling it—her body leaning into the rhythm of it, her breath matching each slap. She’s giving herself over to it in a way that makes the dominant part of me crave more.

The fourth comes faster, no hesitation. The shock of the slap lingers in the air, and I watch as her body reacts—her hips shifting against my knee, craving the friction.

“Four,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

I smile darkly, seeing how she’s starting to lose herself in it, how she’s craving the sting, the release.

“Five.”

Another hit lands, and this time, she rocks her hips side to side, taunting me.

“Six.”

I give her a moment to breathe before I deliver another smack, my hand rubbing over the raised area where a welt is starting to form.

“Seven.”

I pause before delivering another.

“Eight.”

I land the final blow, watching her body arch forward under the intensity of it. She lets out a low, breathy moan, her body trembling as she rides out the heat of it.

I hold her there for a moment, feeling her body sink into my hold, her muscles loosening as the last of the tension fades. She’s completely spent, but I can feel the connection between us more than ever now.

“Do you understand why I had to do that?” I stroke her back lightly, my hand resting on her trembling skin, letting her breathe for a moment.

“Because you get off on punishing me?”

“No, because the thought of losing you is the only thing that truly terrifies me.”

Her stomach presses against my straining cock. “Are you sure you aren’t hard as shit right now?

I smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Okay, maybe I loved it a little too much. “But don’t be so reckless again, or I’ll make sure your punishment is something neither of us enjoys.”