Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland 2)

When he’d said that before, I’d snapped. I’d let my anger get the better of me and I’d lost my head. But not today. Today that memory was spurring me on.

No charisma?

I was going to fucking ooze the stuff.

I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what he said about my mum. She was a piece of crap. But every time he spoke, every time he showed the world what a low-life cunt he was, hitting Harper like he did, it fuelled the demons inside me. It gave me even more reason to focus, channel my energy, and release that tension in the best way I knew how. Through my fists.

Finn had already taped up my hands, and when I got into our custom-made ring, with its hay bales and the usual crowd of familiar faces hanging off the edge, I smiled.

I fucking loved this.

The smell of the sawdust and the hay, the buzz from the masses; this was what I was made to do. I was a fighter. I’d always be a fighter. This was my world, my life. If I didn’t have this, then what was the point in anything?

I was fighting some kid from a few towns over; Callum Kendall I think his name was. Kid had a similar build to me, but that didn’t mean shit. From the look on his face he thought he had this all wrapped up. But I’d enjoy teaching him a lesson in manners.

I was the fucking king around here.

The crowd began to cheer and shout as I took my t-shirt off and started to roll my shoulders and jab the air with my fists. My adrenaline was through the roof, but I was good at keeping myself in check. I couldn’t let ego get in the way of my performance. Well, not yet, anyway.

I painted on my trademark evil grin and stared at Kendall before I turned to the crowd and held my arms up.

“You thought I wouldn’t show up? Thought you’d seen the last of me?” I shouted over the noise with a wicked smirk on my face. “Now, why would I piss around? I came here ‘cos I’ll throw down with any motherfucker who talks shit about me in this town.”

The crowd started chanting my name, and I could see Kendall gritting his teeth. He knew he was getting stitched-up and I fucking loved it.

“Did you miss me?” A few called out yeah, while the rest told me to shut the fuck up and get on with it. “Of course you did. What else would you be doing on a Friday night but watching me smack the shit out of this little fucker here?” I thumbed to Kendall and laughed. The crowd was fucking lapping it up and I was on a roll.

“I’m undefeated,” I shouted, flexing my arms and giving Kendall a wink. “But you’re welcome to have a go. You see this?” I pointed at my fist. “Weapon of mass destruction. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Lockwood,” I said, turning back to the crowd. The booing that ensued told me they already knew what a piece of shit he was.

“I know you’re hiding in here somewhere. But I’ll find you. You need payback, and I’m not talking about the shit that went down with me and my brothers. See, this is what we do for our women, Lockwood. We throw parties. You? You throw your fucking fists, you absolute bellend.” I nodded to myself, feeling that anger starting to surge forward.

“I know you, Lockwood. You can’t hide from me. You’ve put on a bit of timber since we last met, and they do say you are what you eat. Well, you must eat woman beating pieces of shit ‘cos that’s exactly what you are.” The crowd erupted into jeers and angry catcalls.

I’d done that.

I’d shown everyone who didn’t already know what he was really like.

I pointed around the crowd and then turned to face Kendall, still pointing but giving him my last smirk of the night before I fell into my zoned-out, crazy motherfucker, fighting mode.

“I’m Brandon fucking Mathers, and that means something around here. Can you smell that?” I sniffed for dramatic effect. “That’s the smell of your own fucking fear.”

He shook his head and spat on the floor. This little shit was more disrespectful than I thought.

“Come on then. I’ll let you have the first punch,” I said, tapping my chin. “But after that, it’s your fucking funeral.”

The boos and shouts I heard didn’t faze me. I knew what I’d said was controversial, considering what’d happened at my last fight, but I wasn’t gonna give anyone the impression that that had affected me. I needed to show them I was still the hardened bastard they thought I was. No fear, no mercy. Get the job done and give the people what they came to see. Me, doing what I did best.

The ref gave us the run-down of the rules and wished us both good luck for the fight. I didn’t need luck. I had talent and determination on my side.

I kept my promise. I let him hit me and I braced myself as I took that blow. It was fucking hard, and he caught my ribs good and proper, but I righted myself soon enough and went in on him, raining blow after blow like he was my own personal punching bag. Kendall leant against the hay bales holding his sides as the ref separated us and checked he was okay. If he was floundering already, this was going to be easier than I thought.

I stood firm in the middle, with my fists up to protect my face, and my muscles clenched, ready to attack. Kendall stepped forward, ready to restart the fight, and a few of the crowd shouted our names in encouragement. My eyes were on him though, reading his thoughts, working out his next move. I liked to think I was a clever fighter. I tried to outmanoeuvre my opponent in speed, strength and skill. Anyone can throw punches, but me, I threw tactical moves with my hits, and that took focus and ability. A fucking God-given gift, that’s what I had.

I smiled and beckoned him on with my left hand. I knew the crowd would love that. It

was all part of the show. He smirked back at me and just as I was about to duck his left-hook I saw something out of the corner of my eye that took the breath right out of my body and totally pulled my concentration from the fight.

She’s here.