Fighting Only Gets You Somewhere - Rewrite

Fighting Only Gets You Somewhere - Rewrite

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing3h 5m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Sep 7, 2022
REWRITE It had already been a long night by the time Will stumbled across the warehouse, nearly totaling the SUV in the process. Though, nearly sending his family to the emergency room and the vehicle to the junk yard was worth it when he laid eyes on the secret concealed within the decrepit and decaying exterior. After procuring the building from its money-driven owner, Will pours everything he has into the warehouse. He's reviewed the books, he's read all the statistics on all the fighters in the roster, and, finally, he's ready to impress everyone with his improvements. Stephanie would have hightailed it the moment she realized that the warehouse was under new management, though she couldn't afford the attention drawn her way; her secret is too dire to let slip so easily. Not only would she most likely be fired from the firm, but there was a good chance that she would be reported to the Law Society, and disbarred. Left with no choice other than to stay and partake in the night's activities, Stephanie defends her championship title, demolishing each and every fighter that she faces in the octagon. Positively blood drunk and riding a euphoric high like no other, Will had offered the night's champion a chance to double their winnings in hopes of getting his own chance to clamber into the octagon without anyone knowing it was him. With alcohol, a blood thirst like no other, and the feeling of being dismissed by the only female in his entire roster, Will is a force to be reckoned with, and forces a no-rules, bare-knuckle grudge match right there in the parking garage. In spite of the glaring size difference between the two, Will's continually running mouth, and the pompous arrogance that threatens to suffocate the entire room, Stephanie easily bests him. While Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, the person responsible for that idiom never pissed off a gangster and had to survive his wrath.
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College? No, this was paradise. Three years filled with partying, not so secret underground drug-deals, and hot-headed men sliding into beds like snakes with no self-control. Things were different now. I wasn't that perfect, frill-wearing angel Mama thought would walk into the house ring-beared. So many things had changed, except for one. Him. He was a disease, one I couldn't get rid of no matter how hard I tried. Everytime he's near, I feel myself turn into something I've never seen before. Like there's something under my skin only he is capable of bringing out. He's manipulative, twisted, and completely wrong in every way. I hate him. Yet every night, from miles away, I find him in my dreams. Mikhail Volkov Fuck the patriarchy. Better yet, fuck everything and everyone. It was a game of cat and mouse, me chasing victories every single day. The Bratva's constant want for war was what kept the fuel in my blood, burning up into flames whenever my knuckles made contact with another opponent. In the end, I'm always the one left standing. This fire in my bones, I feel it burst into flames while every dark memory, thought and desire runs into my fists. So many medals, but only the people around me could see them. The real battle was against my head. And maybe, just maybe, I was afraid to admit that I had no chance in winning it. She makes it harder. An angel with wings to everyone else, yet a master at unveiling those devil's horns only when I'm near. There's this darkness, this fire, in the both of us. The only difference is, she's better at hiding it. She was gone, far away, yet there was this tether dowsed in fuel connecting us, one that only lit up when she came back. Every time she's near, I feel the limits surrounding my wrath being tested. Then again, rules are only made to be broken, right? Mafia Dark Romance *Standalone*

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