HAUNTINGLY | 18+

51 | Cravings

Xavier's POV

It was finally the day of the fight and I couldn't be more excited. I had been waiting for this day for so fucking long.

Slamming my car door shut, I walked into the warehouse, making a beeline for Jason. I kicked his leg, and he slowly lifted his head, looking exhausted. "Time to wake up, sleeping beauty."

"What do you want, Xavier?" he grumbled wearily.

I grinned, crossing my arms. "Today's the day."

He shot me a quizzical look, followed by a sarcastic eyebrow raise. "You're finally going to kill me?" he asked, seemingly nonchalant.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Nah, you still have a few hours left to live," I replied. "However, I am here to tell you that we're fighting tonight."

His face twisted from confusion to utter surprise. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm hosting my monthly fight today, and you're my special guest in the ring," I explained. I retrieved a knife from my pocket, swiftly cutting the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles.

Jason eyed me warily as he slowly got to his feet, stretching out his limbs. "You want to fight me?" He questioned incredulously. "Why the fuck would you want that?"

"Because, Jason, I want to see your face turn to a bloody mess, one punch at a time," I hissed.

He took a cautious step toward me, causing the guards to instantly raise their guns, aiming at him. "And what if I refuse to fight?" he challenged, his gaze locked onto mine.

I raise my gun, pointing it straight at Jason's head. "You don't have a fucking choice," I snarled. With a nudge of my gun against his temple, I added, "Now, move."

He made his way toward the back door of the warehouse, heading for the bathroom. I allowed him to step inside, and a few minutes later, he emerged.

"Does Layla know about your grand plans?" he inquired as we walked back to the chair. He settled down, and I proceeded to secure his wrists and ankles once more.

"No, she's doesn't," I replied, my tone stern.

"Is she going to be at the fight?" he prodded.

I shot him a sharp look. "Stop asking fucking questions," I snapped, straightening up as I finished securing him to the chair.

"I'm not going to fight you, Xavier," he said defiantly.

I grabbed my knife, pressing it firmly against his throat until a thin line of blood appears. "You're going to fucking fight me," I snarl. "And if you don't, I'll slice your throat so agonizingly slow until you start begging for me to end your end."

The knife digs in a bit deeper. "Understood?"

He nods hastily. "Yeah," he stammers.

Stepping back, I release the knife, letting it clatter to the ground before him. "I'll be back tonight," I inform him. With that, I exit the warehouse and head home.

I hadn't breathed a word to Layla or the guys about my plan to confront Jason in the ring. Nor did I intend to. They'd just have to wait until tonight to find out.

I parked my car and made my way into the house. Upon entering the living room, I found Layla munching on saltine crackers and sipping soda.

I leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat beside her. "Is that your breakfast?" I asked, snatching a cracker and wolfing it down in one go.

She responded with a faint smile. "I had a fruit salad in the morning," she explained. "Just felt like eating something light."

"Are you feeling any better than the last couple of days?" She hadn't thrown up since that one incident in the kitchen, but she seemed tired and emotionally on edge. One wrong word, and she might burst into tears or throw a punch.