I wonder if Graham knew this would happen, but by the look on his face, he seems surprised. They all do. Every one of those men up there is silent and seems highly concentrated as they watch the fight below … the fight around me.
It’s a spectacle of unknown proportions, and I’m at the center of it all, watching it unfold right in front of me. Fist after fist lands, and still, Cage does not surrender.
He fights as if it’s his last day on earth. As if he’s giving his last breath.
Giving it all … to save me.
To stake his claim on me forever.
And it brings me to tears.
“Don’t give up!” I yell at him, bolstering his spirit. “Fight for me, Cage. Fight!”
This seems to only make him growl and punch harder. Opponents being pushed back like they’re being struck by the horns of a bull—that’s how hard he pushes back. No matter how close they get, he always seems to push them away, ramming them with every inch of his anger.
I feel so powerless as I watch him, wishing I could do something to help.
One of them sticks his fingers into Cage’s wound, causing him to growl in pain. They’re all over him—climbing onto his body, latching onto his legs, and punching and kicking him to the ground.
But he can’t give up. He just can’t, because of us.
We have to survive.
“Live, Cage! Please! I need you,” I scream, teardrops rolling down my cheeks.
One glance is all he gives me, but it’s enough. He roars and bites one of the men on top of him, tearing off an ear. Then he elbows one of the others and takes his arm between his body, twisting, tearing until it breaks. A shriek is audible, and he continues pulling and twisting limbs until some of them are partially severed.
All I can do is watch as blood and skin cover the floor, body to body, everybody being ripped to shreds.
A neck cracks, twists, and the body flops to the floor. Another one approaches, and his eyes are poked out. One on the floor tries to pull him down, but Cage steps on his arm, breaking it. Then he jumps on his face and breaks that too.
This savage killing is happening right in front of me.
And I can’t look away.
Covered in the sweat and the blood of his enemies, Cage grabs the face of the final man standing and smashes it into the ground until there’s nothing but pulp.
After it’s done … no one’s left standing but Cage.
His body moves in rhythm with his breathing, his muscles twitching, still tense from the battle that just took place. But he is victorious … and his roar is louder than a lion after claiming his mate.
All I can do is stare in awe at the animal in front of me.
The man who just won because he didn’t want any other man touching me.
Because he’s my man. And I am his.
But my man … my man … is looking at me with an intense gaze before his eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapses to the floor.
“Cage!” I squeal.
I want to get up; I try, but the ropes prevent me from getting closer even though I desperately want to go to him. He’s bleeding everywhere.
“What? They’re all dead?” the men in the stands yell, some of their jaws dropped.
Another one stands up. “This is an insult!”
“Calm down,” Graham barks. “You all agreed to this. You even begged for it, so shut up.”
“I never agreed to get my man murdered,” one of them hisses back.
“A bet is a bet,” Graham spits. “Those are the rules. Take it or leave it. Now, the winner is obviously my boy, so he gets the prize, and then you can all buy a new fighter from me once I have them. Okay?”
All the men seem sour after his speech, but none of them are even paying attention to the fact that Cage is lying here in the ring, practically dying.
“Please!” I look up at Graham. “P-please, h-help us.”
The men laugh, repeating what I say with a high-pitched, fake voice as if somehow any of this is funny.
It’s not. It’s tragic. We’re human, but we’re all just entertainment to them.
The only one who seems remotely interested in Cage is Graham, who hasn’t sat down since the fight began. He cocks his head, checking out Cage who’s still lying flat on the floor, unmoving. I’m beyond worried right now. I don’t want him to die.
“P-please,” I repeat.
“Aw, look at that little girl beg,” one of them muses. “He won, didn’t he? Get up then.”
Graham holds up a finger, and it silences them all. “He obviously fought hard.” He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, this game is over. I’ll see you again next time.”