Then suddenly everything shifts, and the other man lunges for Luca. A solid hit, which whips around Luca’s large body. When he straightens, his lip is bloody—and there’s a feral gleam in his eyes. As if that taste of blood is all he needed to attack.
Luca pulls a combination move that has the other man staggering against the ropes.
But he’s up again and coming back at Luca. They’re well matched, both of them at the top of their games. The best in this underground fighting world. Head to head. I cringe every time the other man lands a punch on Luca, wince when he takes a fall.
I’m close enough that I see the other man knee Luca’s groin.
I call out as if I can somehow fix it.
Colin’s shouting, his face a mask of fury. The ref calls a time and gives the other man a warning. But if there was any doubt, now I know he’ll fight dirty.
They wear each other down, both of them violent and ferocious. It’s painful to watch, but I can’t look away. This is the man I love—
The thought stops me cold. This is the man I love.
Do I love Luca? I’m not sure, but I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt.
The other man has to head back to his corner. That’s when I get a clear view of his face, a spotlight flashing over those features so like mine. Alex. My brother. My heart stops. How is that possible? No wonder the men working with Luca didn’t see him. He’s not a spectator.
He’s a fighter.
Then something gold and shiny catches my eye. It’s on the other man’s hand. A ring? My stomach drops. No. Brass knuckles. He’ll hurt Luca. He’ll kill him!
I take a step toward the ring, determined to do something. I don’t know if anyone else has seen them, but it’s way too loud to hear anything. I have to help him.
A hand on my arm pulls me back.
West. He frowns at me, his mouth forming words.
I yell at him. “Luca’s in trouble. Brass knuckles! My brother!”
He doesn’t understand, so I point to my knuckles. His eyes widen. He mouths the words, Stay here. And only because I think he’s probably right do I listen. I’m afraid that if I climbed into the ring, I’d distract Luca—giving the other man the perfect opening. He needs real help, someone strong, someone who can fight.
West heads for the ring, but two security men block him.
He exchanges rapid words with them before shaking his head in disgust. He starts to turn away—where is he going? He’s circling the ring, I realize, heading for Colin. Colin sees him coming, knows there’s a problem, but he doesn’t know what.
That’s when Alex’s fist comes up in the air, flashing the spotlight back in the crowd. Everyone can see the brass knuckles, but it’s too late.
“Luca,” I scream.
My warning is swallowed by the crowd. The other man’s fist hits Luca’s face in a spray of blood, and I scream again, wordless and horrified. No no no.
I surge forward, desperate to be near Luca, to protect him.
The crowd surges forward, multiplying the chaos. The men who’d been guarding the stage area scramble, some heading into the ring to help, others mixing with the crowd. With the smoke and the shadows, it’s impossible to see Luca.
An arm wraps around my waist, and I struggle, thinking it’s another one of the guards with West. Maybe the man guarding Allie, maybe Allie herself. I fight, but the hold is like iron—it drags me back and back. We don’t head to the seats, but instead out of the exit. The arm over my waist is covered in some kind of silky material. A robe.
I look over my shoulder, into the face of my brother. Alex.
Every part of me feels cold, the same desolate winter I felt in the prayer sessions. Oh God. He’s wearing his robe again, somewhat disguised to the crowd. But no one’s even looking at us. Everyone’s focused on the ring.
“Luca,” I scream again, this time my voice raw with hopelessness.
It doesn’t matter. He can’t hear me. He’s down on the mats, his large body obscured as men crowd into the ring. Is he alive? I can’t tell. I don’t know. Then we’re through the doors. They swing closed in front of me, blocking out the sight of Luca. Turning down the volume.
“Let me go,” I whisper. “Alex, please.”