Wild Bastard

9

Matt

I step into the hall, swallowed by the roar of the crowd.

The spotlight hits, momentarily blinding me.

The squealing of chicks cuts through the noise, shrill and hungry.

Radge's support is weaker—of course it is.

This is my town.

These people know their winner.

I feel it in the vibrations of the air, in the way they chant my name like a fucking war cry.

Damn, I've missed this.

I grin, making my way toward the makeshift ring—if you can even call it that.

Just a cleared space in the center of the hall, not even fenced off.

A raw, lawless arena.

That's what makes it real.

The fights here are illegal, so you won't find many high-profile figures watching from the sidelines.

But the shadows?

That's where the real power lurks.

They send their mutts—guys like Larry—to sniff out profit.

Hands slap my shoulders.

Voices scream my name from every direction.

And it boils my blood.

This is where I decide fates—including my own.

Radge is already waiting in the center, stretching his neck from side to side.

I smirk.

We fought last year.

And he won.

But his victory was worthless.

Not because he was stronger.

But because I was weaker.

Because back then, I was drowning in drugs, my instincts dulled, my body slow.

Now?

Now, I'm clean.

Now, he's the one who's going to hit the fucking floor.

I scan the crowd—

And there she is.

Marina.

Perched on Sergio's shoulders, watching from above.

Perfect.

From up there, she'll have the best view of me taking back my throne.

I throw her an air kiss.

She sends me pure disgust in return.

Fine, girl.

You can hate me.

But you will remember me.

The ref blows his whistle.

The fight begins.

Radge lunges straight in.

I dodge, swatting away his attack, slipping into my rhythm.

Quick jabs to his face.

Bounce back.

Side-step.