Perfect Illusion (Perfect 1)

Throughout the next hour, fighters take their turns battling it out against each other in the cage. Most of the fights are gruesome. The spectators at the front get speckled with blood and sweat that aren’t their own, but they cheer anyway, greedy for more of the gory sport.

Some fights lasted longer than others. Others were bad.

One of the fights had both fighters holding their positions, too scared to hit first, instead choosing to circle each other to buy time. It drew out like this for five minutes, with water bottles and trash being thrown into the cage by aggravated spectators trying to get them to do at least something.

The rest of the fights were mediocre at best.

Straightforward jab-crosses and kicks, shitty footwork, and a permeable defense, which leads a predictable tap-out position on the ground. All of them truly amateur fighters. The only saving grace for the spectators was the gruesome carnage of broken bones, blackened eyes, and gnarly, wounded flesh.

As the announcer crawls into the pit for the seventh time, my heart hammers wildly against my chest in anticipation when he declares the next two fighters entering the cage.

“Fighting Maddock West tonight is everyone’s favorite . . .

Kayden ‘The Killer’ Williams!”

I suck in a breath. I watch the crowd part for him as Kayden heads to the cage.

Oh my God.

There.

He.

Is.

It’s only been an hour since I last saw him but my breath still catches at the sight of Kayden as he parts the crowd. His dark hair gleams with sweat and his face is mean. Tenacious.

Laser focused. When he climbs into the pit, he removes the robe and tosses it to the side, and lean muscles stretch under his tattooed skin when he flexes, causing all the girls in the crowd to go mad with fangirling shrieks.

Kayden’s eyes search the crowd, and when they land on me, he smiles. I give him an encouraging nod, trying my damnedest to ignore the whirlwind of butterflies erupting in my belly.

Shit, I really am screwed.

He doesn’t rip his gaze away from me. Instead, he looks at me like he’s searching for something. A sliver of emotion, maybe. Big mistake. Because when the fight starts, Maddock pounces on Kayden, catching him completely off guard.

Kayden tries to hold his defense steady while trading blows with Maddock. Right off the bat it’s intense, the thuds of Maddock’s hits reverberating through the pit. But punch after punch Kayden’s defense still holds firm. I beam with pride.

“That’s right! Wait for the opening!” I yell at him.

Frustration lines Maddock’s face. He steps in for a body lock but Kayden is ready for it. He times the counter with a brutal high knee, catching Maddock on the chin for a split second before dancing away.

Maddock growls, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he repositions himself. I see Kayden’s right leg flex as he shakes it.

He must have overstretched himself going for that highknee, I worry. Maddock, seeming to have drawn the same conclusion, goes straight into a kick at Kayden’s leg.

Absorbing the blow, Kayden unleashes his own flurry of punches, which Maddock blocks deftly, then strikes at Kayden’s thigh again. Unwavering, Kayden continues his barrage of jabs, forcing Maddock to focus on his defense, but something’s wrong. Kayden’s starting to favor his left side, his right leg obviously hurt. He dips to go for an overhand.

Maddock sees it coming and readies to block it.

Almost too obvious, I note.

But then Kayden turns it into an explosive uppercut instead, coming up to ram Maddock on the chin.

Bam! Maddock crumples to the ground. Out cold.

“Yes!” I holler, beating both my fists in the air when Kayden’s announced the winner.

He beams with joy, body swinging around to find me in the crowd again. Almost immediately, he’s whisked away so the next fight can start. He gives me a hard nod toward the other enclosure, signaling that he will meet me there. I push a thumbs-up forward before squeezing out of the crowd, excited to celebrate this win with him.

Just as I’m about to break free from the mass of people, a strong hand clamps around my wrist.

“Hey! What the—?”

I whip my head back, ready to curse out whoever has the nerve to touch me unwarranted like this when my gaze meets an instantly recognizable pair of dark eyes.

“Rude of you to leave without saying hello, don’t you think, princess?” His deep voice sends a rush of goose bumps down my arm. I brave a steady breath.

“Hello, Jax.” I say.