Page 99 of The Deceptions

I shimmy my baggy jeans down my legs and kick off my shoes and socks, tossing them into the empty locker. A dirty, thin mirror sits on the inside of the locker, reflecting back at me. I run my fingers over my thighs, slowly dragging them up, until I’m peeling my binder and shirt to expose my ribs.

There it is. The one thing I’ve avoided looking at for years. The reminder. My memories aren’t the only thing connecting me to my former best friends. I run the tip of my finger over theword—Always—etched onto my flesh between my ribs. Centered there in cursive.

It’s a piece of them that will remain with me forever. Always. That’s what I was to them.

Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Always.

A door slams somewhere in the locker room, knocking me from my stupor as it echoes throughout the room. Quickly, I cover myself back up and pull the long shorts on, readying myself for the fight that’s about to come. I can’t let my head be clouded by all these thoughts.

I have to clear myself again. Center myself so I don’t get fucking killed by that behemoth.

This is it.

The time is here.

And now, I have to show everyone what I’m made of. I’m Oliver Davenport. Badass.

The momentI exit the locker room, I’m ready. My chin is raised. My mind is blank. And all I see is the biggest fucking man ever standing in the center of the ring. He raises his hands, waving them at the crowd with encouragement to chant his name.

“Brutus! Brutus! Brutus!”

Sounds right. He looks like the type of motherfucker to stab you in the back.

"Don't worry. I'll call your mommy when I put you out," my opponent grins wildly, standing at the center of the ring as I walk up the stairs.

"You a fan favorite?" I ask, nodding toward the rambunctious crowd, loosening my neck slightly as his tightens with his movements.

"I'm undefeated," he says with a grin. “And I plan to keep it that way. Be a good little bitch and go down in the first round.” Oh, he sounds very confident. I should probably change that.

"Why? Cuz you can't pick on anybody your own size? Are you that insecure?" I chuckle, cracking my knuckles and jumping from foot to foot. Damn. My muscles are way too tight for this. I need more time to loosen them before he chews me up and spits me out.

I'm fully aware I'm taunting the bull. I'm like a damn red flag, waving in the wind for him to race after. That's okay. I want that. He needs to exude all his minimal energy before the fight commences.

Brutus's face tightens, and he exposes his teeth. "I'll show you insecure, asshole."

A referee steps into the middle of us with his arm in the air above his head, eyeing the tension between us.

"Once I back away and am out of the ring, the fight will begin. There are no rules, except—don't kill each other. You will be declared the winner if your opponent is knocked out or doesn't move for more than three seconds. I am the judge. If you harm me, then you're banned for life." He raises a brow at Brutus, like this might be something he's capable of. Might be right. Brutus looks a little unhinged. Okay, not a little. A lot. He smiles like he's got something over me. "No more than five blows to the head are permitted. We do not allow death in this ring." He takes a small step back and lowers his arm.

I grunt, knocking back when Brutus the fucking cheater slams his fist into my jaw and then my ribs. Pain rings through my brain, and the breath leaves my lungs as I gasp. But I have enough mind to duck when he sends his second fist flying, attempting to catch the same spots on the opposite side. He meets nothing but air as I dance away from him, shaking my head and trying to right myself.

"That was a low blow," I grunt at his back, making him turn on his heels and wildly punch at my face and body, never landinga blow. “You call yourself a fighter,” I wheeze, rubbing at my ribs until I can stand up straight.

"This is a fight. There are no rules, remember?" he asks cockily, heaving several breaths as I sidestep every punch he throws at me.

That’s right, big boy. Tire yourself trying to catch me. I may not have his strength, but I’m nimble on my feet.

"You gonna throw some punches or be a pussy?" he asks, cocking a brow when he takes a step back. He opens his arms wide. Way too cocky for his own damn good. He’s asking for me to attack him.

"I could," I say with a shrug, ducking under another one of his assaults when he realizes I’m not falling into that trap.

He heaves a breath, snarling in my direction. "Fight me, pussy boy!" he grunts, nearly charging at me like the bull I accused him of being earlier. I swoop out of the way, pissing him off more until he’s facing me. Red takes over his cheeks, and he cracks his bare knuckles several times. “You gonna keep running? This won’t end well for you.” He grins again, looking at me like I’m the prey he’s been searching for all his life.

It's creepy.

I lift a shoulder, nonchalantly taking a step back as he takes two steps forward. He’s so determined to take me out that he doesn’t see the coordinated dance we’re having. It’s all part of my strategy. One Jordy knows all too well and keeps me on my toes. Only Jordy is much more lithe than this guy, who is practically stumbling over his large feet.

“Then come put me out of my misery,” I jest, curling a finger in his direction.