Page 75 of Unhinged

“You’re still healing,” I growl. “One hit to your side and you’re done.”

She flashes me that infuriating grin. “Aw, Gearsy, worried about little ol’ me? I’ll try not to bleed too much on your boots.”

I reach for the cage door, but two big, beefy alphas block the way, arms crossed and smug as hell.

“There’s only one way out of the cage,” one of them says. “Knock out or tap out.”

“Fucking hell,” I murmur as I step back, heat crawling up my spine. I feel my brothers at my sides, a silent wall of fury and frustration.

She leans in, eyes burning.

“Sit back, boys. Be good. Enjoy the show. We need this intel.”

Then she turns, bouncing on her toes as she heads toward the center of the ring. Her opponent—Tiffany—is already throwing punches in the air like this is all just foreplay.

“This is bad,” Acid mutters, but he’s smirking like he wants to see what she can do.

Arrow’s breathing through his nose, fists clenched. “If she gets hurt?—”

“She won’t,” I say, even though my gut twists. Brydgett is the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met. But this… this is chaos.

A fight. A goddamn fight.

In a ring we didn’t even know existed.

In a part of town we run.

With our omega bleeding for answers.

And still—I can’t look away.

The bell rings.

Tiffany comes out fast—cocky, bouncing on her toes like she thinks this’ll be quick. Brydgett stays low, steady, circling with that predator’s focus she wears so well.

They clash in the center. Fists fly. Tiffany lands the first jab—straight into Brydgett's side.

Brydge screams.

The sound slices through the roar of the crowd like a razor. Her body folds for half a second, pain etched across her face, and I see red.

But she doesn’t go down.

She snaps upright, eyes blazing.

Brydgett ducks the next swing, drives a hard elbow into Tiffany’s ribs, follows it with a spinning back kick that knocks her opponent into the cage wall. The crowd loses it.

Tiffany snarls and rushes again, fists wild. Brydge catches one wrist, pivots, wraps a leg behind Tiffany’s knee, anddropsher. MMA-style. Clean. Brutal. Fast.

Before the other woman can recover, Brydge straddles her and throws a sharp right hook. Then another. Tiffany’s arms flail once—then fall.

Knocked. The fuck. Out.

The crowd explodes. The cage door swings open.

Brydgett stands, swaying slightly. She clutches her side, blood seeping through the edge of the bandage.

“Fuck, that hurts,” she mutters.