Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
My fucking dream come true.
Sun filters through the old windows, shining on the dust particles that float through the air, all but making the room fucking sparkle. It reminds me of all those fight movies I loved watching as a kid. It’s clear that this is a gym dedicated to producing MMA fighters, and I realize without a doubt that Rebels Advocate just became my home. I don’t care that it isn’t traditional for a hockey player to train here. This is where I belong.
As I make my way deeper into the gym, my gaze locks on a fighter in one of the rings who looks like he has given his all for the trainer. The kid scrambles out of the ring, his face turning white as he grabs his water and races toward the bathroom, looking as though he’s about to hurl.
A grin pulls at my lips, knowing the feeling all too well. “Can I help you?” the trainer bellows through the gym, casually making his way through the ropes of the ring before jumping down off the edge and watching me through a narrowed gaze.
“Yeah,” I say with a slight lift of my chin. “What’ll it take for me to train here?”
His gaze lowers to my shirt that declares me a player for the Denver Dragons, and I see the very second he decides I’m a piece of shit college athlete with nothing going for me but frat parties and pussy. “Look, kid, I think you’re better off in the campus gym. This isn’t the place for you,” he says, dismissing me and starting to walk away. “See yourself out.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell him, letting him hear the conviction in my tone, throwing every ounce of defiance I possess into it.
The trainer stops in his tracks and turns back to look at me, letting out a heavy sigh. He probably thinks I’m wasting his time. “Look around you, kid. We’re an MMA gym. We train fighters, not college kids looking for a step up in their hockey training,” he says with a scoff. “Let me guess, you’re at the bottom of the barrel, and your coach has given you an ultimatum to improve or fuck off.”
A smirk pulls at my lips as I ignore his comments and make my way up into the ring.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions, standing back and watching me with his arms crossed over his wide chest.
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it in the corner of the ring, feeling more at home than I have in weeks. I look the guy in the eye, itching to fight. “Proving myself.”
He considers me for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and making his way back into the ring. “Ahh, what the hell. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he declares, positioning himself in front of me.
The familiar adrenaline pumps through my veins, and it feels glorious, like welcoming home an old friend. Then without hesitation, I get the show on the road. We begin circling each other, and I realize in order to prove myself, I need to make this quick and exciting. A fight he’ll never forget.
As I notice a few guys in the gym stopping to watch the show, probably waiting for me to get my ass kicked, the need to prove myself only gets stronger. Springing into action, my fists strike out, narrowly getting through his defenses and nailing him in the shoulder. His eyes widen in shock, clearly having not expected such a move from me. He’s suddenly on high alert now that he knows exactly what he’s working with.
He immediately launches into a counterattack, but he only manages to get a hit to my forearm as I block his advance. I have to give it to him, he’s fast. Incredible even, but no one is faster than me.
On and on it goes. This guy is well matched to my skill level, a fucking perfect match to train me. His punches are powerful, packing heat like I’ve never experienced, but I come fully loaded with speed and agility. Hell, I could even teach this motherfucker a thing or two.
I watch as he smirks at me, clearly impressed with what he’s seeing, but the determination in his eyes warns me that he’s not giving in. He’s going to see this right to the end. Goddamn, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
Power pulses through my veins, my muscles rising to the challenge as I push myself harder.
A grin tears across my face, knowing I can finish this. I can see the trainer’s eyes sparking with the thrill of it all, probably matching my own. I deliver a swift uppercut, followed by a combination of punches and kicks before I completely get through his defenses, slamming his back right to the ground and keeping him pinned as he gapes up at me in surprise.