Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“No, I’m good. Thanks again,” I tell him as I brush by him and speed walk out the door.
I remember seeing the industrial park on the map I studied when I first got here. It would probably take me a good hour to walk there, but calling an Uber or getting into the car with anyone who isn’t my parents is out of the question. Cars are a hard no for me. I’d rather walk three hours than get into a car and drive thirty minutes.
I drop my backpack off at my apartment on the way, but I don’t even stay long enough to eat. Grabbing a jacket, I walk right back out and in the direction of the warehouse.
It ends up taking me an hour and twenty minutes to get there. I wasn’t sure if I would even find the place, but when I saw a shit ton of cars pulling onto the road and turning a few blocks down, I knew I was in the right place.
It takes me a little while to get to the door, but when I do, there is a line. The line moves impossibly slow, and by the time I reach the front, I find a big scary man blocking the entrance.
“Ten dollars.” He extends his hand out, and I blink rapidly before reaching into my wallet and pulling out two fives. As soon as the money kisses the palm of his hand, he ushers me inside. Entering the warehouse is like being dipped in ice-cold water and tossed into a hot frying pan.
It’s a complete shock to your body. The noise is astounding, and I nearly turn around and walk back outside. The only reason I don’t is this incessant need to protect Jackson, which outweighs the discomfort I’m feeling. Discomfort is a momentary thing, but losing Jackson if I don’t warn him, could be life-altering.
Moving through the crowds, I follow the sound of skin slapping skin. I reach the front, shoving past some girl in a barely-there shirt, and find that Jackson is already in the ring. My stomach falls to my knees, and my heart collapses in my chest.
Jackson is wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and sneakers. His muscular upper body is on full display, and if he wasn’t in so much danger right now, I might gawk at his physic. But as it is, he’s facing a monster of a man, who’s raining his fists down on him.
Then his gaze collides with mine, and as if there is an invisible rope between us, I feel myself being drawn to him. I can see the anger filling his features. He doesn’t want me here, but I don’t care. Cringing, I watch as he barely misses taking another punch to the head.
Come on, Jackson. Fight. I can’t lose you too.
9
Jackson
My muscles are already burning, adrenaline courses through my veins. I need to do this to keep myself sane, to keep myself from losing my goddamn mind. It’s so loud in the warehouse tonight, I can’t even hear myself think.
Franco delivered on getting the biggest, baddest, scariest, motherfucker he could find. Boris is, well, a tank. He looks like he eats people for breakfast, and though he seems big and bad, my fists are faster, and my stamina is top of the food chain.
“Are you sure about this?” Talon yells over the roar of the crowd.
“Dude, stop being a pussy,” I growl, tired of him always fucking with my good mood. He worries too much.
“Whatever. It’s your death.” He rolls his eyes and tosses a water bottle at me. I catch it mid-air, twist the cap off, and chug the contents before crumpling the bottle. The cool liquid does little to ease the heat rolling off of my body. I’m ready to get this done and over with.
“You asked, and we delivered. Welcome to the pits, everyone. Tonight we have the baddest, cockiest, motherfuckers I know going head to head. B-O-R-I-S! And J-A-C-K-S-O-N!” Franco drags out our names, and the crowd lets out a roar that’s deafening. I bounce on the heels of my feet, sizing up Boris, who looks as if he’s a brick shithouse.
It’s going to take more than a couple punches to knock him on his ass. Especially when his fists are as big as my biceps.
A tingle runs up my spine. I’m not sure why, but it swirls in the pit of my stomach. Shaking the feeling off, I focus on Boris, he’s big and bulky, which probably makes him also slow. He might be a giant, but that doesn’t mean he has speed or a good fighting instinct.
My hands are wrapped in tape, but we don’t wear gloves. I check the wrap one more time before I put in my mouth guard and walk out of my corner. As soon as I step into the ring, I step out of the warehouse. Mentally, there is nothing here besides him and me inside this pit.