Broken: Round One (Broken #1) (13 page)

A scary, life threatening option.

Round One

I rub my sore knuckles before pressing the back of my hand to my mouth to stop myself from throwing up. For three days I’ve stressed myself to the point of physical sickness and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t fight, I’m not ready, but I don’t have a fucking choice. Although Jai’s happy with my progress, I’m not. My punches are still weak and they’re all I have to defend myself with. Jai is confident I’ll win, but I know better. My opponent is going to smell the diffidence on me and then she’s going to demolish me. In front of everyone. When that happens, Skull will see me as the fake I really am and Jai isn’t going to be able to do a damn thing to stop Skull from spilling what’s left of my blood.

Blood.      

I hate the taste of it and yet, here I am, trying to convince myself to be locked in a cage with the possibility of drinking mouthfuls of it.

I contemplate staying in the room, but the lines of people who walk by on their way to witness Jai’s fight make it impossible. I have to be there if not to support him, then at the very least to watch him.

I push off my bed and join the mass of people filtering from the smaller tunnels and into the larger ones. As I enter the main area, I quickly slip away into the back of the room, and climb up on a big, pointless block of concrete so I can see over the heads of everyone else.

Then I see Jai.

In the cage.

All the warmth in my body moves south and I squeeze my thighs together as desire pools and pulses in hot waves. Wearing a pair of black gloves that don’t quite cover all of his hands, he flexes his fingers at his sides and every time they close and tighten, so does my core. Jai bounces on the balls of his feet and the cage recoils and shakes under his weight. Somehow, he manages to keep his balance, unbothered by the possibility of the chains snapping and sending him plummeting to his death. I’d be petrified, clinging for dear life to the rusty cage metal. As the chains grind against pipes and other pieces of steel, the smell of rust becomes distinct and in the spotlights, I see little specks of it float to the ground.

The crowd is up in arms once more, cheering for him to win, cheering for him to fail. Either way, my body absorbs each shout for him. Excitement heats my blood, enrages my nerves and causes little bubbles of sweat to emerge along the surface of my skin. Though the cheers would distract someone like me, Jai acts as if he can’t hear them—as if he were as deaf as he is strong. Occasionally, his gaze circles the large tunnel before locating me in the back corner. When our eyes lock, I see the very corner of his lips twitch, making my heart pound like nothing else. I let my stare roam his perfect physique. His shirtless torso is straight and tight, covered in rippling abs and beautiful depressions. I notice not one inch of his skin is marred by ink—strange given society’s obsession with tattoos. Jai strikes me as the kind of person who takes immaculate care of his body, always watching what goes in it and on it. It shows too. His physique is a masterpiece.

He crosses the cage and waits patiently as his opponent approaches the gate. His opponent is scary. Jai is tall, easily six-one, but this guy has him beat by a whole foot at least, and not only is he built high, but the width of his body is incredible too. He’s wide from his shoulders right down to his ankles. His bald head reflects light just as well as his glistening form and as he rolls his neck and cracks his fingers, his stare finally locks on Jai. I hold my breath as the two watch each other. If I were Jai I’d be petrified. If he does feel any kind of fear, he’s certainly not showing it. He’s ready to take on his opponent and I can tell by the way he flexes his fingers and holds his posture that he won’t hesitate to throw the first punch.

My attention flicks to the movement on the ledge above the cage. Seemingly bored, Skull leans on the dodgy railing, two bum boys behind him, as his eyes scan the crowd. My lips part as a shaky breath blows through. I’ll never get used to seeing Skull. The way the black ink around his eyes makes it look like he has no eyelids terrifies me and the gentle curves of the brain tattooed on top of his head is surreal. What made him want to do it to himself? What was happening when he decided to permanently scar his face? What thoughts went through his head? I wish I knew.

His mouth, and the tattooed teeth surrounding it, moves as he chews gum. He seizes up both fighters, his posture straightening when he sees Jai. I think I even see a smirk. Then, with a lazy nod, the fight begins.

Like I expected, Jai wastes no time in lashing out, swinging with brute force. The last few days, Jai has advised me against attacking first. He said I should gauge my opponent before attacking; learn their technique. It seems Jai’s taking a different approach. The brute takes a couple of quick steps back as Jai’s fists rain relentlessly down on him. The crowd murmurs in shock, sending a surge of tingles through me. The cage shudders, creaking louder with every hit. I see Jai’s core relax whenever he connects, giving him the ability to move quicker—more confidently. The brute might be bigger, but Jai is definitely more dangerous. As the large man brings his hands up to shield his face, Jai drops low and slams his knuckles into his ribs. Though monstrous, the brute has nothing on Jai.

He moves unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. There is stark beauty in the swift, controlled way he maneuvers his body and I become mesmerized in it—in him. The crowd cheers around me, but I hear nothing. All I see is him. Jai doesn’t hold back, not for a second, taking a more offensive approach. The brute he faces keeps to a tight circle near the center of the cage, moving back and forth only to defend, never to attack.

I chew the tips of my fingers, catching skin between my teeth as the scene changes. I watch in alarm as the round deteriorates by the second, the winner becoming obviously clear. Jai has turned rabid.

Veins in his arms are visible.

His clenched jaw, noticeable.

The loud growl that tears around the room, unavoidable.

Jai grabs the brute by the back of his neck and drives his face into the metal cage, over and over again. The rust cuts into his skin, scarring his face, but Jai doesn’t give a fuck. He roars again and I gasp right before he throws his opponent’s head down and drives his knee into his face.

Thump.

The sound of a kneecap smashing into a nose reverberates through me and my gut revolts at the level of ferocity being exhibited.

Thump. Thump.

I want to look away, but I can’t. Blood rolls down Jai’s leg and onto his bare feet, but the anger on his face doesn’t leave. Even as the brute’s body goes limp and collapses, Jai hits him. He doesn’t stop until two of Skull’s guys enter the cage and push him away before dragging the lifeless body off the canvas and away from the swinging death trap.

I watch Jai, shocked, and when our eyes meet, I don’t see embarrassment or sympathy. I see warning and darkness. I see Hell itself and it’s fucking terrifying. To my surprise, when I look at Jai’s opponent, leaning on the outside of the cage, he moves a hand to wipe the blood off his face. Relief rolls through me. I’d thought he was dead for sure. When Skull’s goons realize he’s alive, they leave him alone to wallow in his own self-pity. My heart bleeds and beats into my ribs for him. Like Jai said, most people leave here broke and broken, and this man definitely will.

The crowd begins to disperse, but I remain locked in my seat, unable to remember how to move my limbs. Jai has paralyzed me with this brutality and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Turned on? A little. Scared? A lot. What am I getting myself into exactly?

I peer up in time to see Jai being ushered in through a service door underneath Skull’s ledge. I gulp loudly, before shaking my head. I don’t have time to worry about Jai and what Skull wants with him. Later today, I’ll be in the cage.

Later today, I could be dead.

Expect the Unexpected

The wall in our little nook is dirty. Still, I rest my head against it, hoping to cool my burning forehead. Twelve minutes, they claim, until I enter the cage. A bout of nausea flashes through me at the thought. It has been three hours since I last saw Jai, panting and coated in someone else’s blood. It has been three hours since I saw Jai completely destroy a giant without getting hit once. As much as he terrified me, it’d be nice to have him here—to coach me before I go on. I need to hear how much confidence he has in me. That always makes me feel nice.

As the thought passes, the sound of shoes scuffing against the concrete forces me to open my eyes. I drag my stare up clean legs, black shorts, slim hips and a beautiful torso before it locks with blue eyes. They briefly catch my attention before a small black mark on his collarbone, no bigger than my thumb, takes precedence. It’s a tattoo. A new tattoo. I lean closer in an attempt to make out the swollen, black mark.

“A skull,” he says, his teeth clenching at the end. “They tattooed a fucking skull on me.”

My eyes lock with his. “What for?”

“So Skull can track fighters he’s interested in.”

I can tell by looking at Jai’s face that being tracked as a personal interest for Skull is not something he wants or needs. I wouldn’t either. The thought gives me the creeps.

“You were with him this whole time?”

He shakes his head. “I was with his entourage. Skull didn’t show.”

I swallow the concern I feel for Jai. Being marked by anyone isn’t a good sign, but I have other things to worry about. I lean back against the wall, but have no time to feel sorry for myself before Marcus, the man I met the day we entered the underground, pokes his head into our space.

“You’re up, Kitten.” He offers me a kind smile. “Good luck.”

I feel blood drain from my face as he disappears. This is it. The moment I’ve been dreading this whole time. I wonder who my opponent is and if she’ll be the same build as me. Knowing my luck, I’ll be pitched against Big Foot’s wife. She’ll have clubs for hands and tree trunks for legs.

“You scared?”

I’m as good as dead. “Is it that obvious?”

He doesn’t comment. Of course it’s obvious. He could probably smell it in the air. I can. It seeps out of my pores and clings to my skin. It turns my blood cold and makes my heart unsure. Jai described the feeling of the adrenaline that courses through your body before a fight a few days ago. He said it was something that builds up fight day and unleashes itself as the bell rings. I’m yet to feel any bout of adrenaline. All I feel are butterflies and wasps circling angrily in my stomach. I’m pretty sure all of my adrenaline now sticks to my clammy skin after being forced out through my pores by my nerves.

Jai strolls around the room, feeling damp, washed clothes and smelling dry ones. Eventually, he picks up a black tank top and pulls it on. “You’re going to do just fine.”

I turn towards him, and his full lips quirk into an adoring smirk as he watches me. Do I look that pathetic?

“You sound so certain.”

“I am.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not like you, Jai. What you see outside of the cage is who I’ll be on the inside.”

He frowns. “What does that mean?”

I recall images of Jai in the cage. He wasn’t human. Every shred of humanity he had left him. He was an animal and I wasn’t the only one shocked by his display of brute force.

“Oh, come on. You saw what you did to that guy. You could have killed him.”

His irises darken and I contemplate dropping the topic. Then again, what kind of me would I be if I actually listened to my conscience? Ever? 

“But I didn’t.”

“He was one knee away from a concussion, or worse, death.”

Jai scoffs and turns away, bored. “I kneed him in his philtrum over and over. Worst case scenario, he lost some teeth. Big deal.”

“You didn’t even give him a chance.”

I don’t know why I’m defending Jai’s opponent. I guess I feel as though I relate to him in a strange way. I can sympathize with his soreness, his loss, and the disappointment he’s most likely feeling.

Jai snaps toward me, bending his torso in half so his face is directly in line with mine. “Give him a chance? We’re not in fucking primary school, Kitten. Down here, it’s a matter of life and death. Every move you make has to be one that intimidates everyone else.”