Prologue
The best fighter is never angry.
Cracking knuckles.
Flesh hitting flesh.
Left hook, right hook. Jab.
The power behind each hit reverberated through Levi Hogan’s arms and directly to his heart, inflaming his need to inflict more pain on his opponent. The crowd’s cheering only spurred him on to swing faster, kick higher, cause more damage. The adrenaline rush flowing through his veins was unlike any drug some of the other fighters took before stepping into the ring. Levi got off on the pain. His pain, other’s pain. He needed it. Craved it.
A swift uppercut to his rival’s jaw ended the match as he felt the other man’s jaw crack in an unnatural way. Levi watched in fascination as he fell to the mat in slow motion. Blood dribbled from his nose, lip, and multiple open cuts along his cheek and jaw, pooling in a puddle below his unconscious face.
People were on their feet cheering for him, the underdog, the guy slated to lose. The bell rang, and the announcer hollered and cheered him on as the winner. Money exchanged hands. Dirty looks were given. Desperation was palpable in the air for those hoping he’d take the loss.
“Levi “Knuckles” Hogan, not a fucking scratch on him. The underdog, the motherfucking champ!” The announcer acted more excited than he was. “Hand over the money, pay your debts, and come back next week to see him fight another loser!”
Walking out of the home-made ring, Levi ignored the whores trying to get his attention and the fans wanting an autograph. He had to get out. Having no reason to keep up appearances since he fought in an underground ring, he had zero desire to make other people happy. All he wanted to do was fight. Inflicting pain was the only thing important to him. Being his first fight and win, he knew he was going to now have a reputation to uphold. Which meant harder training, more time, and letting his girlfriend go.
Christina had gotten clingier the longer their relationship went on. He hadn’t wanted anything serious when they first met, but the more they spent time together, the more he thought they could be. Until she met Soph. Her real colors showed through then.
Now, he wanted to start fresh, to move forward doing what he loved without the confines of a woman holding him down.
At least…
Not the right woman.
Chapter One
The hardest fight you’ll ever have is with yourself.
Faster.
Harder.
Stronger.
Hayes Morrison pushed herself past her limits. She had to be better, faster, stronger. Her goals left no room for failure. No option to attain anything less than absolute perfection. She had everything planned out. All her dreams had been within her grasp; so close, yet, so far.
Then it happened.
A careless accident.
One drunken night.
Two stupid boys.
They walked away. Hayes spent six months switching between a hospital and rehab. Her dreams of being an Olympic sprinter dashed in a split second because two stupid frat boys decided to drink and drive instead of calling a cab.
After a long night of studying for finals, she had chosen to celebrate by going for an early morning run. The moon had been bright, she had all the right reflective gear on; they should have seen her. They should have stopped. They shouldn’t have been in the damn car.
Hayes never saw it coming. She hadn’t heard anything but the tires squealing as they sped off after hitting her. Tearing muscles from bone, ripping skin wide open, leaving her for dead. She remembered laying there in pain believing she was going to die, wishing she’d tried out for the Olympics sooner, that she’d followed her dreams instead of waiting for her brother to return home from the Navy.
He was her best friend growing up. Being seven years older than her never made a difference to them. At sixteen, she’d been cocky, knowing she’d make it to the 2020 Olympic Summer Games in Tokyo. She believed Ryder would have been there, too. That night changed both their lives in very different ways.
Hayes was left with a permanent limp.
Ryder was left dead and burned in a cave in Syria after weeks of torture by ISIS.
He was a believer in God and countr
y.