Fear takes hold, making my entire body tense.
Memories from Halloween slam into me—me racing through the grounds with a hooded figure following.
I have no idea if he senses it or if he sees my reaction, but Seb’s warm hand lands on my thigh before he hauls himself up in the small bit of space beside me. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he holds me tight.
Forcing myself back to the here and now, I drag in a deep breath through my nose, slightly regretting it when the heavy smoke in the room hits the back of my throat.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I lie, not wanting him to know that just a dark hooded man freaks me the hell out.
I should be stronger than this.
If I allow my fear to get the better of me, then he will win.
Both of the fighters enter the ring and they’re announced, although I can barely hear anything over the shouts and screams of the crowd.
“They’re both Reapers,” Emmie shouts in my ear.
“How do you know that?”
“Look at their tats.”
I scan their torsos until my eyes land on two identical markings.
“You know them?”
"Xander, yeah. He’s hot.”
I look between the two of them, trying to work out which one she might be talking about. To be fair, in just a pair of shorts with their ink on display, they’re both looking pretty fine.
“The lighter haired one,” she says, clearly sensing my confusion.
“Yeah, he is.”
A bell rings for the start of the fight, and a ripple of silence goes around the room as everyone waits with bated breath to see who’s going to get the first punch in.
Emmie screams in excitement beside me when Xander is the one to make the first move.
“Fucking hell, Em. I nearly pissed my pants,” I shout at her.
“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just exciting. Isn’t it?”
It is, but I don’t tell her that. Instead I just laugh, focusing back on the fighters.
By the end of the third round, they’re both looking pretty battered as their trainers pass them each a bottle and they wipe the sweat and blood from their bodies.
Seb leans into my ear. “Joker’s going to go down in the next round.”
I rear back, looking at him. “How do you know that?”
“Just call it a sixth sense.” He winks.
“Sebastian, is there something fishy going on?” I ask with a raised brow.
“You’re in a room full of ruthless, immoral bastards, baby. Of course there’s something going on.”
“Right, of course.” How naïve of me to think this could be a legit fight.