Chapter 175

Wyatt and I slowly circle each other, neither of us ready to make the first move. As I’ve been trained, in part by the women fighters of the underground tournament, I let the background noises, the roars and jeers of the crowd, fade away into the background.

Instead, I focus fully on Wyatt. Every twitch of his fingers. The downward slant of his lips. The dart of his eyes as he looks at my side.

I dodge just in time to miss one of his attacks, sending his punch wide. The overconfident bastard truly doesn’t know how to fight. His eyes telegraph his moves.

There! Again! To the right!

I dodge left, sailing safely away from his swing. I could feel the strength of his punch though, as it cut through the air. The air itself moved to get out of the way.

As we continue this dance, his eyes giving him away, me dodging, him missing, it becomes clear that I am indeed faster than him, thank the Gods. So I might actually stand a chance.

The problem, though, as I also surmised, is that he is much, much, much stronger.

Another punch. Another miss.

“Hold the fuck still!” Wyatt growls. His fingers are turning claw like, he’s getting wolfy. Shifting isn’t against the rules exactly, but it would make him look like a coward, having to shift to win against someone who can’t.

“Watch yourself!” Archer cries.

Oddly enough, though I’ve blocked out other sounds, I am still in tune with the three brothers. I can hear their heartbeats, the steady in and outs of their breath. I hear their words like they are whispered straight into my ear.

It’s probably the adrenaline. But it might be the connection I feel a share with them, like we are all bound together in this moment.

I don’t have time to really think about it.

Wyatt makes another attack. His fist slides beside me, so close to hitting me. Too close.

Wyatt growls loud and sharp. “Stand still!” He makes a wild strike, more desperate than the others, though it’s faster too, and a touch unpredictable. He doesn’t telegraph this one. I have no idea where it’s supposed to land.

I dodge at the last possible second.

Wyatt’s fist collides with the ground where I was just standing. The floor of the gymnasium cracks in a large circle, the force of the impact of his punch.

Holy shit. If that was me, I’d have a hole in the middle.

Maybe Neil is right to worry. My fucking step-brother might just kill me.

No. I can’t lose confidence. I’m not coward. I won’t back down from this fight just because the stakes have suddenly become clearer.

Wyatt is adding more strength to his punches, more desperation. It makes him more dangerous, but also more sloppy. And slow.

He punches wide, and I finally see my opening. I slide up near him and land two quick punches into his side. Weak points, right where Carla showed me. I don’t linger, knowing he’ll want to retaliate. Instead, I whirl away.

The retaliatory punch misses me entirely.

He misses another punch. And another.

I grow more and more confident. But also more and more tired.

Archer gave me a warning about this. Wyatt, as a wolf, would have the stamina to outlast me.

If I want to actually win this fight, I would have to get bolder.

On the next wide punch, I take a chance and slide in close again. I land two quick blows, then try to spin away.

Wyatt’s hand shoots out and catches the back of my bun.

Angela and I, while discussing my outfit, also discussed out to wear my hair. Short of cutting it, we thought a tight bun might be for the best. This would give Wyatt a very small target if he meant to catch me this way.

Smaller, we thought, than a ponytail.

Unfortunately, for all of his misses, Wyatt catches me here. I jolt back, captured. He roars as he throws me head first toward the floor.

I lift my arm to save my head, but my body collides with the full impact of his throw. The breath knocks clean out of me, and I’m dazed.

Above me, Wyatt lifts his hands, welcoming the cheers from the crowd.

“Get up, Chloe!” Beau calls.

“Don’t get pinned!” Archer says.

“Chloe!” that’s Steven, as worried as I’ve ever heard him.

Drawing strength from their words, I push myself up on my hands. As Wyatt leans down in a sorry attempt to pin me, I pounce, swiveling around him with practiced ease. I hit him three times in the kidneys – thanks Carla, for that advice – and then, while he crumples slightly to groan, I wrap my arms around his neck.

He’s in a headlock now. I have the best position. He should tap out.

He doesn’t.

“Tap out!” I cry. I don’t want to hold him tighter. If I constrict his airwaves too long, I could actually hurt him. I don’t want to seriously hurt him. I just want to win.

The feeling is not mutual. He bends both his arms, then spears me in both sides at once with his elbows. Once, twice, again and again.

He’s trying to jar me lose. Gods, it hurts!

I feel sharp pain in my sides. I think he broke several of ribs.

I won’t let go, though. Not now that I have him. To let go here, is to lose for sure.

So I keep holding on. Neither of us will surrender. Who will pass out first?

I don’t want to hurt him, but with the way he’s hitting me, it’s like he means to kill me. I tighten my hold, constricting his airflow more fully.

I don’t want to die.

Slowly, his hits lose some of their strength. His moves turn sluggish. He’s going to pass out.

But he’s a coward, so he taps out first.

The referee raises his hand. The fight is over.

I immediately loosen my hold. Wyatt swivels and shoves me back. It’s none to gentle and I stumble. Fortunately, Archer is there and sets me upright again. He’s not looking at me though. Instead, once I am standing, he walks straight around me to confront Wyatt.

“She’s a fucking cheater!” Wyatt cries. “You all saw it!”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Archer says.

Beau runs in to join Archer, blocking Wyatt’s attempts to get near me.

“That whore ass bitch!” Wyatt shouts, and that’s the kindest of the vulgarities he’s casting at me.

The crowd seems stunned, and I can’t tell if it’s because I won, or if because of the sewage falling out of Wyatt’s mouth. He is presently shooting his ‘only fighting me for mercy’ rumor right in the knees. No one could possibly believe him, with what he’s saying.

“I refuse to believe that the slut won all on her own!”

“You fucking lost,” Beau snaps. “Learn a little grace.”

The longer I stand upright, the harder it seems to be to do so. My sides, if possible, hurt even worse than before. The adrenaline must be waring off.

The pain is immense. Am I about to die?

Steven is the only one who notices. He stands beside me. “Chloe?”

“Steven, I…” Gods, it hurts so much to talk.

I want to tell him where it hurts. But I can’t.

I can’t even keep my eyes open. Or is everything just turning black?

I struggle, but there’s nothing to be done.

I fall forward and pass out.