I don’t retort his comment that I’ve done everything in my power to keep Maddox and his brothers off his radar the past two years, but I do accept his invitation to sit in the seat next to him. I’m shaking so much I can’t trust my legs to keep me upright.
Over the next several minutes, the first two fighters keep the men ringside entertained. From what I took in before I diverted my eyes to my feet, the fighters stand at a similar height, and they look as rough and ready as the other. The knowledge they’re fairly matched won’t have me watching the sickening event unfold, though.
Just knowing one of them will leave the ring in a body bag makes me immensely ill, so I won’t mention the sickening crunches and grunts that come from their part of the warehouse over the next forty minutes. It’s horrific, although it has nothing on the flip my stomach does when I spot a man who should be far from here entering the west entrance of the warehouse.
“Ha!” my uncle pushes out with a chuckle when he too spots Maddox. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” He isn’t referencing Maddox. He was glaring at me when he said his comment. “Your mother should have taught me otherwise.” I don’t realize I’m crying until he wipes the salty blobs off my face with a rough scrub and a smile. I hate that my tears are making me look weak, but I’m too shocked to hold them back. “I should have killed her like I did your sister. Alas, I have an addiction for needy brunettes with fuckable lips.”
Sister? What sister? I’m an only child, aren’t I?
I lose the chance to ask my questions out loud when Maddox arrives ringside three heart-thrashing seconds later. He’s dressed to fight in black running shorts and a white sleeveless tank that showcases the cut ridges in his arms. He’ll be forced to take off his running shoes if he’s here to fight. All parts of his body must be up for manipulation in the ring.
My uncle tugs me behind him when Maddox’s flaring nostrils announce he spotted the marks my face didn’t have this morning. He isn’t protecting me from Maddox’s wrath. He’s announcing to Maddox that he will have to cross more than a line to reach me.
“Nine o’clock on the dot. Lucky you weren’t a second later. The men are so thirsty, they spent most of the fight watching her squirm instead of the bloodbath.” My uncle laughs. No one joins in. The derogative way he articulated ‘her’ would make the hardest criminal grimace.
It takes Maddox working his jaw side to side three times before he can respond. “You said nine o’clock. I don’t show up early for anything or anyone.” His tone is way too calm for my liking. Not in a million years should he be here. Win or not, he won’t walk out of this warehouse the same man. “Except her. I would have been here hours ago if it were my choice.”
Even though I have no issue reading Maddox’s underlying message—he’s disappointed I took the decision to fight out of his hands—it won’t stop me from trying to persuade him otherwise. “You need to leave.” Ignoring my uncle’s brutal clutch on my wrist, I step around him so Maddox can feel the urgency beaming out of me without interference. “Go now before it’s too late.”
His family won’t survive my uncle’s fury, and neither will I. Maddox loves his family. He wouldn’t be the person he is if it weren’t for them. I don’t want them taken away from him because we create fireworks when we fuck.
“It’s all right,” Maddox mouths to me like he does his brothers when he thinks no one is looking. “We will be out of here before you know it.”
When he winks at me, forever cocky, I sigh. He’s walking into this blindly. He has no clue what he’s about to face since they removed the deceased man from the ring and mopped up the blood during his race across the dusty warehouse floor.
“Maddox, please—”
“Ten, twenty minutes tops, then you’ll never have to come back here.”
“Spoken like a man with a bucket-load of confidence.” My uncle shrugs before he twists his torso to face the bookmaker. “But cockiness only goes so far in the ring. Put fifty thousand on Igor. I feel like playing the field tonight.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Igor is who the men were bragging about when I was held captive in my uncle’s office. He’s undefeated in this tournament and known for killing men just for fun.
“Go, Maddox, please,” I beg, my voice a roar.
He stumbles backward when I push him, but he doesn’t get anywhere near as close to the exit as I’m hoping.
“It’s okay.” He promises when my wish to force him to leave sees a gun butted to my temple. “I swear to you, it’ll be okay.”
Droplets of salty water stream down my face when I shake my head. I want to believe him. I want to grant him the trust he so blindly gave me last night, but I can’t. The world my uncle rules wasn’t made for men like him. It will destroy him long before his time and crush his spirit even quicker than that.
With the crowd on their feet clapping and cheering about the commencement of the feature round, it takes Maddox climbing through the frayed ropes of the ring before our eyes lock and hold. He watches me when the roar of the crowd announces the entrance of his opponent, unfazed about Igor’s large frame and killer demeanor. He’s tattooed head-to-toe, even his scalp, and he’s wearing the white cloth sumo wrestlers regularly don. I heard that’s his trademark because he uses his size to crush his opponents to death.
“Don’t let him get ahold of you!” I scream to project my voice over the uproarious crowd, adding to my warning by pretending to hug myself. “You need to move fast and time your hits.”
I can’t believe I’m coaching Maddox like I’m his trainer. Will I be able to do the same when he’s killing a man with his bare hands? Or worst, summarizing ways to get him out of the danger zone? I honestly don’t know.
After removing his shoes at the referee’s request, Maddox jerks up his chin, advising he heard me. It should weaken the knot in my stomach. It doesn’t. He isn’t warming up his muscles for the exhaustive activity they’re about to endure, nor is he prancing around the ring like Igor, feeding off the hype of the boisterous crowd. He’s staring at the door he walked through only moments ago like he’s hopeful the match will be called off before it begins.
“Protect your face,” I scream at the top of my lungs when Igor creeps up on Maddox unaware.
The referee didn’t announce the start of the fight.
Igor is just super eager for the bloodbath to begin.
“No!” I scream when Igor’s fist collides with the side of Maddox’s head so brutally, I’m shocked blood isn’t pouring out of Maddox’s ear. “Move off the ropes!”
I race for Maddox just as the light inside his head seemingly clicks on. While I’m yanked onto my seat by Mario pulling me back, Maddox ducks, missing Igor’s second swing before he slams his fist into his ribs three times with the hope a fractured ribcage will slow him down.
When Maddox’s plan comes up trumps, he moves to the other side of the mat. His hands are up, protecting his face, but his eyes continually stray to the door.
Anyone would swear he was waiting for someone to show up.