TWENTY-ONE
Saturday arrives and Breaking Point is closed for the semifinals. Spectators pile in from the back exit, eagerly waiting to get their cut in on the fighters who are gonna survive tonight. The four of us split, with Evans and Brent headed to the deck while Kayden and I head to the back corridor to prep.
Fighters lurk all around us, doing their prefight rituals; some of them are listening to music or resting, while others are shadowboxing in the corner to get their adrenaline going. Kayden just leans his hip against the wall, huge arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches them with critical eyes.
Jax is nowhere to be seen, as usual. He despised hanging with the others, always under the impression that he was above everyone else, hating the thought of exposing any possible weaknesses he had.
“Why don’t you have a ritual?” I ask as I approach
Kayden with the boxing wraps. “Hands out. “
He obliges me, extending one hand, palm up, and allowing me to wrap the tape over it.
“I do.” His gaze slides to me. “I just try not to think too much.”
“But that’s a default.” I go over his knuckles a couple of rounds just for safety, strap it into place on the wrist, then repeat the same process on the other hand. He stretches his hands to get a feel for the tension and then drops them to his sides. I take the opportunity to prod him again. “How about all that other weird shit? Like slapping yourself?
Withholding sex? Tweaking your own nipples?”
The corner of Kayden’s mouth kicks up at my suggestion.
“Tweaking my own nipples?”
“Georges St-Pierre. Said it helped bring him good luck.”
A low rumble vibrates from his throat.
“Whatever gets him the win, right?” He says, watching me as I take a step back. He nods to me, beckoning. “What was Jax’s?”
I bite my lip in contemplation. “I don’t think I should say.”
“Why not? Does it involve you?” Kayden’s eyes flare with alarm. “It was copious amounts of sex wasn’t it? He seems like the kind of guy who would do that before a fight. Come on, Lucky. Tell me.”
“I won’t because I’m not in the business of getting you fired up against him tonight,” I tell him. “You gotta focus on Lee.”
“Come on,” he whines playfully. “If you don’t want to tell me, just blink once for yes and twice for no.”
I shake my head, feigning a ridiculous smile. As much as I find the jealousy endearing, there are more important matters at hand.
“Let it go, Killer.”
“Fine,” Kayden mutters.
“Remember. Look at his feet to know how he’ll throw.”
He nods. “I’ll find you in the crowd.”
“You better.”
And we leave it at that. When I return to the front where all the action is about to happen, I spot Brent beckoning me over. I squeeze through the sweaty bodies, bumping into several bookies still trying to catch last-minute bets.
The announcer does his usual prologue, announcing the four fighters taking the cage tonight, starting with Kayden and East’s fight. Both fighters emerge from the shadows, taking their places on opposite sides of the cage. East does a little show on his own, forming his hands into claws while emitting predatory bird noises from his mouth.
The crowd roars in anticipation, chanting “Killer! Killer!
Killer!” repeatedly as Kayden walks over to his side of the cage. He isn’t showboaty tonight. He’s serious, urgent in the way that he moves as he shrugs off his robe and gets into his stance.
A shiver runs along my spine as the women all around me shriek and hoot eagerly at him. I glare at one of them a couple of feet away from me and shouting at Kayden to something her up in her something and she will somethingsomething to him tonight.