Chapter Four
Hunter
My music blasts out of the speakers, and I punch the air a few times, hopping from foot to foot to psych myself up. The crowd is already pumped and cheering for the underdog. What is it with people that makes them feel they have to do that? Like it would be completely unacceptable to champion the guy who is clearly on his way to the top.
It doesn’t matter to me who they want to win, this fight is mine, like all the others before it. They might not like my Gypsy background, my commitment to avoiding the press as much as possible before a fight, or the fact my early training was on the streets rather than in a gym, but I am not fighting for the glory.
I remind myself of the sole reason I’m here: to give them a decent show, knock the mother fucker out, and prove myself worthy of a chance to take Theo’s title from him. At least, that’s what I try to focus on, but I can’t help myself from wondering about how to fix the nothing that exists between me and Bella.
Beautiful Bella with her huge eyes that are always so angry at me, and wild hair that reminds both of us she’s a Pavee through and through; however much she tries to escape it.
As soon as I set foot in the ring, I see the other guy gunning for me, and from the wild expression in his beady eyes, he’s probably tanked up on steroids. I guess the mandatory drug testing doesn’t apply to a select few people pleasers. The fights had been this way for as long as I can remember. It’s rarely ever about the fight unless you’re at the top. For now, I am fully aware I am a money-making machine, and when they grow bored of me, my career will be over in a single knockout.
Circling me, I let him throw the first punch. I duck just in time for him to miss my jaw completely and retaliate with a sharp dig to his kidneys. It isn’t hard enough to knock him out, but it lets him know how this game is going to end. I’ll happily play cat and mouse with him, but when I grow tired, I’ll unleash the lion in me and swallow him whole.
The next round goes down pretty much the same as the first. The guy is quick with his fists but not so much with his feet. His steps are slow and staggered, giving away exactly where and when he’s going to throw his next punch. Toying with him is fun, and it is what the crowd wants. I hear it in their shouts and sense it in the air. The more I stay on my feet, the more they cheer for him and it only makes me play harder.
As he hits the ropes again, I take the opportunity to glance at the crowd, and my heart stands fucking still.
Bella.
My Bella.
At a fight night.
My fight night.
What. The. Fuck.
Her eyes meet mine instantly, like she hasn’t taken them off me for the entire fight, even though I’m only just noticing her. Blinking as the sweat pours over my eyelids, I can’t tear my eyes away from her, but some fucker does it for me. I trace her outline down to her waist, where a pair of hands that aren’t mine grip, and my blood runs black.
Before I get a chance to react, I’m hit with a blow to the temple that knocks me straight on my ass.
Fuck.
My body crashes to the floor, and somewhere in the haze, I can just about make out the referee counting down.
Get up.
“Get fucking up!” someone screaming at me. I’m not sure if it’s my coach or the voice in my head. My head throbs so much, I swear I feel the blood pumping through it.
Bella.
But, it’s not her eyes that meet mine this time. It’s his. Moody and dark despite his amused expression that taunts me. Like he’s climbed inside my head, read my thoughts and knows he’s won.
Bad luck, asshole. The games not over until it’s fucking over and for you, it never even began. If you want to fight for what’s mine, we can fight; but I’ll warn you now, I don’t fight pretty.
My thoughts inject enough adrenalin that I’m able to force myself back to my feet. The crowd’s cheers shift from cheering for my opponent to cheering for me, and I realize, I just became the underdog. I was pitied and pathetic, and it was all because of her.
Bella was always outside of my reach but always the thorn in my side.
Gut instincts take over. I throw the punch I had been holding back and finish the fight in one carefully placed uppercut.
The referee grabs my arm, holding it high up in the air while they announce me as the champion. All the while, my eyes search the crowd for Bella.
When I see her, I see him too— all over her like grilled cheese clinging to hot toast, slimy and everywhere. I fight my instincts to kill him and direct all my anger at her. After all, she’s the one engaged to be married. The head fuck who refuses to support me in anything I do but shows up to my fight night with another fucking guy.
Is she trying to make a mockery of me?
Is this all part of some game she’s playing? One where the rule book had been scrunched up and tossed aside as soon as the box was opened, forcing me to quit or play blind.
“Great fight tonight, kiddo. What you did at the end there, letting him lay one on ya’… now that was really somethin’. It looked like he really did get the better of ya’ at one point.
“He did,” I snarl, dismissing my coach by waving an arm at him and grabbing my water bottle as I run from the make-shift dressing room out to the parking lot.
“Bella,” I roared, not giving a shit who is around. The fuckers want a show, they are about to get one.
Scouring the car park, I see her before she sees me. She’s no doubt scuttling off to some college party with her BFF and dumb and dumber. Her hair is wild as ever but her outfit is girly and sweet. A perfect contrast of the girl she is and the girl she’s so desperate to be. His varsity jacket is draped over her shoulders, and his arm is wrapped around her waist.
Him.
Grilled cheese.
That is what she wants?
She throws her head back and laughs at something he whispers in her ear. A joke at my expense?
I doubt it. I’m her dirty little secret. I remember when her parents had been making the arrangements for her to study at Camelot and we’d spoke about how a separate identity would be best for her. The whole thing was Romeo’s dumb idea and she’d been more than happy to go along with it.
Typical Bella, desperate to hide who she truly is to fit in with the ‘it crowd.’
Anything to pretend she wasn’t Pavee like the rest of us.
I hated everything about it but I’d given her my word. I’d never visit her on campus unless she gave me the all clear first. I’d never talk to anyone about her family and our arrangement, and I’d never under any circumstances reveal her true identity.
That was before the bitch played me harder than Ed Sheeran plays his guitar at Wembley Arena and paraded her new man right under my nose, almost losing me one of the most important fights of my career.
We hadn’t exactly agreed on the terms about our arrangement. I had foolishly presumed that despite her reservations about getting married, she’d stick with her catholic values and remain a virgin until her wedding night.
But there she is with some douchebag and here I am, watching from the side-lines. Seriously pathetic. If she wants to fuck every single person, guy or girl, from the crowd tonight, what do I care?
Get it into your thick head Hunter: Bella Buckland is never going to be yours. Even if she marries you, you will never own a single piece of her heart.