Page 59 of Bound By Ink

“Nice fucking try,” Derren growls at me, and their grip tightens, holding me in place. As the lights go down and a heavy rock song kicks in, booming in the open space. Two half-naked women prance around in front of a huge man as they dance towards the centre of the room. The man yelling out, roaring into the crowd, riling them up.

He climbs the steps and into the cage. He’s tall, well over six feet, but he’s heavy; his stomach and chest bulge out, built more like a strong man than a fighter. He shakes his hands as he claps and punches the air. He cracks his neck and steps over to his side of the ring.

“And the reigning champion, the one you’re really here to see. Let’s hear it for,” he draws out the word, yelling it into the air before he drops his voice and growls. “Killer.”

The crowd erupts. Screams are deafening. The spotlights shine on a single figure, in a hoodie split down the sides pulled up over his head, his hands hang loose at his sides, bound and taped up, his bulging arms and thighs heavily tattooed. There’s no music, no fanfare, just him.

When he steps towards the cage, people are screaming, throwing things towards him, women whooping and gasping, but he never looks up. Until hegets to the stairs, he takes the steps slowly and carefully. When he reaches the cage, his head lifts, and he slowly removes the hood.

My hands cover my open mouth as Derren and his friends jump to their feet, booing. When the fighter hears them, his face turns, and his eyes settle on me. I slowly stand, my hands gripping my open mouth, but they shake as I stare at Killian.

He rips the fabric over his head and tosses it on the ground as the cage clicks closed behind him, and they step into the centre. The referee talks to them both, and Derren grabs at me. I realise I’m still standing, gripping my face, frozen. I’m yanked back down, and Derren snarls at me.

“Looks like your fucking pretty boyfriend is about to get what he deserves. When I found out about this fight, I never realised Killian was Killer. You are my insurance policy. He’ll be distracted, he’ll lose, and I will win big. Now, sit the fuck down.” His friend leans over and wraps his arm around my neck, gripping me tight.

“Best do as we say.” He pulls back, but not before he grips harder, making me choke.

My eyes don’t leave Killian. I stare at him, pleading for him to be safe. Derren’s fingers dig into my leg, holding me tight, and I swallow hard. Panic settles into every bone of my body. My heart races, pounding harder than the fists will rain down, trying to explode out of my chest. I know in this moment those words I spoke to Killian when I was with him last. I meant them.

It’s him, it’s always been him.

The crowd evaporates into the background. The noise stills to a silent rumble that I can feel rather thanhear. I stare into that cage as they bump knuckles before taking a step back, a second before the bell rings.

Widowmaker lunges forward, and Killian dodges him, bouncing out of the way. His body relaxes, every tattoo glistens in the lights, and he looks amazing. My mouth is dry, and I’m drooling at the same time. I’m mesmerised. This man has loved me my whole life, has always put me first.

But he’s leaving.

He’s leaving me because I thought he wouldn’t measure up. I undervalued his resilience and the way he’d looked after me. I assumed because he was a player towards everyone else, that’s the version I would get. But now, the way Derren is behaving and the way Killian has stepped back make me realise the decision I need to make.

I want him.

I love him, but will he forgive me?

As the bell rings. I startle, and they step toward the edge. The cage opens, and two guys jump in, wiping them down and giving them a drink. The other guy, Widowmaker, he’s panting, sweating. But Killian sits there, drinking from the bottle of water, and his gaze settles on mine, and I stare at him. His eyes burn into me. I give him the tiniest of smiles, and I mouth to him.

“I love you.”

He closes his eyes for a second, but when he opens them, he looks away, and my heart breaks a little. Have I fucked this up?

The bell rings, and they step up to each other, Widowmaker swinging as Killian effortlessly dodges blow after blow, landing his own punches, makingWidowmaker grunt and gasp. He bounces around, kicking and punching. He’s elegant, the way his body moves, and his muscles flex, make me remember our night together—the way he took care of me, making sure my needs were met before his own. Hypnotic. I can’t tear my eyes from him. Everything he does is so precise. Every hit and kick he throws lands as intended.

Derren grips me tighter. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re mine. We both know he won’t want you now.” His arm wraps around my neck, and he pulls me to him. He growls into my ear. “You’re gonna pay for making me look stupid.” His grip tightens, and I wince.

He yells so loudly that it pierces the air, “Killian.” His gaze shoots to me, and mine to his. Derren lashes out. He punches me hard in the face, and I stumble, dropping to all fours beside the cage. My glasses are knocked clean off. Gasping for breath as the shock washes over me, I try to focus, my vision blurred and distorted.

I cough out a stuttered breath. The crowd yells as I turn, dropping onto my ass as I stare up at Killian, his gaze trained on me. He takes a hit to the ribs, and as he doubles over, Widowmaker takes a shot and catches him in the face. His lip splits as blood oozes out from the cut. It’s not bad, the blood isn’t pouring, but he stares down at me regardless.

“Killian,” I gasp, pulling myself to my feet. Killian’s down on one knee, his hand resting on the mat now, his eyes bore into mine, and I shout, “I’m okay, please don’t lose. I need you.”

He gives me the tiniest nod as he rolls, just as Widowmaker crashes onto the mat. Killian jumps to his feet, wincing. He clutches his ribs, but he dives onWidowmaker, grabbing him in some type of elaborate hold, gripping his neck and pulling back, wrapping himself around him as they grapple on the canvas.

Widowmaker’s eyes bulge as he tries to wrestle his way out of Killian’s grasp. But Killian hangs on until the bell goes, and the referee leans in and splits them apart.

I rush over to Killian as Derren launches towards me, but before he can get to me, an older man steps in between us.

I squint up at him. “Jerry?” I gasp, realising who he is, and I relax, sighing heavily. He stands as a barrier between Derren and me, and I cling to the side of the cage.

“Killian, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t leave.”