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)
Pitbull is the favorite to take out the competition, with me coming in close second. To be honest, the guy is bad news. Really fucking bad news. He got his name because that’s the way he fights—like a fucking dog. He’s brutal in the ring, and I’m not looking forward to facing off against him.
Every single person he’s fought has been rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. He’s nothing short of dirty, but I’ll get my day with him, and I’ll put the fucker right in his place. All I know is that it’s going to be the hardest fight I’ll have to endure. On the other hand, if it’s the finals, it’s rumored the winner is set to take home something like two hundred grand. So you can bet that I won’t stop until that cash is in my hand. One thing has me extremely nervous though. He’s just watched Cole tape up my ribs, and without a doubt, he’s storing that piece of information away, ready to use it against me.
Snapping back to reality, I find Cole finishing on my ribs, leaving me a few minutes for a warm-up with Caden. He grunts and whines as I pummel my fists into him, but he knows it’s what I need right now. He’d rather end up with bruised hands than see me enter that ring unprepared.
Two minutes later, the same official comes in and calls me to the ring. I hate being rushed for a fight, but even with my injury and lack of warm-up, I’m still confident I can win. The guy I’m against is only eighteen and a little too cocky for his own good. He usually wins by knockout, but so do I.
I have to admit, he’s a strong contender, but he still has a lot to learn about what his body can do. Maybe in a few years, I might see him in the professional circuit. Hell, I don’t know why someone as young as him would even be in the Underground yet.
I step out into the arena with Cole and Luke heavy on my heels. Cole is still pissed at me, but it’s game time, so he shelves it for now. “Alright, kid,” he says as we wait for the announcer to call me into the ring. “The guy is shorter than you, so remember to keep low. His footwork’s good, but not as good as yours. Use that to your advantage. The second he realizes you’re injured, he’s going to aim for your ribs for an easy kill. Keep your left side forward and don’t let him in.”
I nod my head as I keep my mind focused on the fight ahead.
The announcer calls me in, and I come out as the music pumps up, the crowd roaring for The Widow Maker. I strut around, putting on the show my fans have come so accustomed to. I do my usual strip down for the ladies before throwing my black robe over to Cole, which is when shit gets serious.
The music dies down and I face my opponent, who looks down at the tape across my ribs. A sick smirk comes over the fucker’s face, and it’s damn obvious what his game plan is. The idiot. Everyone knows you don’t give away your secrets, no matter how obvious they are. Always leave them guessing, which is a lesson I’ll gladly teach him the hard way. After all, he’s only eighteen, and needs a few years to learn the tricks of the trade.
The fight begins, and just as expected, he aims his first punch right at my ribs. I turn away and use his momentum to grab his arm and flip the idiot onto his back. I stand back with a grin and watch as he scurries to his feet, figuring I might as well have a little fun with this one and teach him some of those lessons he truly deserves to learn. I mean, I could have taken him out while he was down, but the crowd enjoys a good show.
The kid scowls at me, pissed for having made a fool of him in front of a crowd this big, and so early on in the fight, too. But he has only himself to blame. His anger radiates off him, but it’s no secret that you don’t fight with anger. You fight with your mind in the game. Error number three for the kid.
He comes at me with fists flying, but I block each and every one, which only manages to piss him off more. He pushes forward and tries to get me in a headlock so he can single out my ribs, but once again, all attempts fail when he tries to play with one of the big boys.
I land a few combinations, all of which he’s too slow for, but credit to the kid, he can take the hits. I see the moment he starts to get his head in the game, and it turns into a decent fight for a little while, but he’s wearing out quickly. My blows have him backing up step by step, and as I grow bored of this game of cat and mouse, I decide to put him out of his misery and take him down.