The Wild Moon by Riley Storm

Chapter Fifteen

I slammed back into the cage wall, momentarily seeing stars.

The crowd went wild around me, cheering and hollering for more, while in the background, bettors cried out for bookies working the tables, wanting to place new wages or modify existing ones. One person gasped audibly as I ducked a second punch and spun away, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, turning my tightly braided hair into a wet, sloppy mess.

Ahhh, I thought as I danced around the cage, eyeing my opponent. It’s good to be home.

The stench of cigar smoke wafted through the converted industrial building—so much work had been done that I wasn’t even sure what it had originally housed, but it had the high windows and brick exterior of an old factory or something similar.

All I knew was what it was now. An underground fight club. I know, I know, the first rule and all that. Well, this was my gig now. And truthfully, I was starting to enjoy it. Not only that, but I was improving.

Of course, thanks to my shifter healing, I was getting a lot of experience.

“Make ‘em work!” a wavery voice called from my corner.

I sighed, swiping at my eye to keep sweat from dripping into it and blinding me again like it had before I took the last blow. That one had been unplanned, and those always hurt. I preferred knowing when the blow was going to connect.

My opponent—I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t care—came at me again, shaking his head at me. They always did that, stunned that I, a woman, would look for more punishment. Well, they didn’t have to understand me. Nor did they have to care. I beckoned him forward before glancing at the man in my corner for guidance.

Carl mimed punching, the movement making his cream-colored suit pull tight against his rotund figure. He immediately tried to sit up straight and adjust it, as if that would hide his increasing belly. I marveled at the way his stomach grew while his hairline shrank. It was like the two were perfectly diametrically opposed. Unfortunately, Carl was only aware of his stomach. He thought his hair was fine.

Men.

I casually ducked under a snap-jab, only to flinch as a crosscut slammed into my face and spun me to the ground. The jab had been a feint, and in my distraction, I’d fallen for it.

Impressive, I thought, spitting blood. I immediately ratcheted up my opinion of the man across from me.

“Stay down,” he growled at me, though it was muffled by his mouthguard. Clearly, he didn’t enjoy beating up on a woman and wanted the fight to be done.

I looked over at Carl again, and he motioned for me to get up. To continue the fight.

Sorry, bud, I need the money from this fight, I thought, mentally apologizing to my foe. Not that I needed to bother. He was still going to win the fight. Just not yet.

I got to my feet. What would my parents think if they were to find me like this? Boxing in an unsanctioned club, fighting against men, all for money?

Probably would be happier that I wasn’t a prostitute somewhere, I guess. I’d keep that in mind in case they ever turned up alive.

My opponent closed on me the second I rose. I backed up quickly, then threw a few quick punches his way, forcing him back for a moment. I needed to drag the fight out, but that didn’t mean I wanted to keep getting knocked to the ground for it. I hadn’t bled in two, or was it three, weeks now? I was frustrated.

Can’t let it get to me. Need to stay calm. Have to lose the fight. Don’t go off on your own again. You won’t get paid.

I gritted my teeth, glancing yet again at Carl, trying to tell him he needed to signal the end of the fight already. But this time, Carl was staring out at the crowd, rubbing his greedy sausage-like hands together as more bets were called and taken. He didn’t pay me any attention.

Angered, I lashed out with a kick as my foe closed. I hit his calf perfectly, and he howled in unexpected pain. Tonight, it was a boxing match. I’d just broken the rules. The ref, who was just one of the bouncers, shouted a warning at me. I nodded.

By Vir’s Oath, you fool! Now you’ll have to exploit that attack. Otherwise, people will think there’s something strange going on with this fight. Good job.

So, I did just that, ignoring Carl’s apoplectic reaction as I went on the offensive.

Sorry, Carl, you’re gonna have to trust me on this one. I’m not about to do something stupid. We’re still gonna get the money.

I attacked in a flurry of punches, but I let them be unguarded. I drove my opponent—what was his name again? I couldn’t remember—back against the cage. I drove a fist into his side, but I pulled the blow. A true hit from me would have broken his ribs, even with the large, padded gloves I wore. I couldn’t do that. It would raise too many questions.

I didn’t want questions.

His defense was good, and at one point, he got a foot behind him on the cage and pushed off, his superior size driving me back. I struck back, dodging one of his blows and connecting against his cheek, snapping his head to the side. It was the most damage I’d done all evening, and I could hear the crowd starting to turn in my favor. Thinking I’d win this one after all. More bets were made.

There you go, Carl, I thought, going on the offensive again. This time, though, I purposefully overextended myself, giving my foe a wide-open chance as I struck too hard with my off hand, turning my body too far to the side.

He saw it. He took it. I went down.

The crowd went insane.

There you go, Carl. Be happy with that, I thought, not getting back up, acting the shit out of the fall as if I was knocked silly. I put my hands on the ground and tried to push up, but let them go limp and flopped back down, feeling nothing more than a fish out of water. It was ridiculous.

And I was going to get paid for it.

Eventually, I heard the ref call the fight with my opponent, Dino “The Monster” Mulvalia, as the winner. So, that was his name. I shrugged mentally. It wasn’t like it mattered. He was nothing to me. Just a payday.

Around the makeshift cage, the crowd was beginning to subside, the excitement fading. Some were happy with the outcome, others not. It was like that every night. Footsteps approached.

“Okay, come on,” Carl said, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me to my feet. “Let’s go.”

I got to my feet, still acting unsteady. I leaned on Carl. Sweat got all over his suit. Oops.

He grunted, and we made our way out of the ring, me moving unsteadily until we went through a set of doors that led to the changerooms. If a janitor’s closet could be called such.

As soon as the doors closed behind us, he shoved me off him and started fussing over his suit. I didn’t care. The man was a scumbag.

“Good job out there,” Carl said, his voice watery, weak. “You really got the crowd going. Tonight is gonna be a fat take.”

I shrugged. “Just make sure I get my cut, Carl,” I said in a hard tone.

“Yeah, yeah. You know I’m good for it,” he said, brushing me aside. “Probably five hundred for you tonight. That’s a good one.”

“Not enough,” I growled, standing up. “I need more, Carl.”

“Hey, we had a deal,” the fat greasebag said, licking his lips.

Due to my height and his average stature, I could look him in the eyes when standing, and I knew he hated that. Carl liked to look down at the world. He was a greedy, arrogant type.

“Seven-fifty,” I said, knowing not to push too hard.

Not because I was afraid of violence, but I knew if I tried to do more, Carl would drop me. He didn’t want confrontation. In fact, he ran from it. That’s why I was the fighter.

“Fine, fine,” he said unhappily. “If it’s there, then it’s yours.”

I knew it would be.

“Good. When’s the next fight?” I asked.

Carl frowned at me. “You got a death wish, kid? You’re already in the ring twice a week.”

“Make it three times, then,” I told him, lifting a wrist to my mouth and undoing the strap with my teeth so that I could pull it free.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” Carl protested.

I didn’t kid myself. Carl didn’t give a shit about my well-being. In this place, nobody cared about the fighters. They only cared about one thing. The money. Carl didn’t want to lose his prized cash cow, that was all.

“I need another fight, Carl,” I said. “Either that or pay me more.”

He licked his lips nervously, looking around, but there was still nobody in the hallway. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll get you another fight. But it won’t be as big a take.”

“Time for an upset then,” I suggested. “Get me in with a bigger name. I’ll beat them.”

Carl’s beady eyes went wide. He didn’t know my secret, didn’t know what I was, so of course, to him, it sounded insane.

“They’ll never take it,” he said.

“Make them. I need the fight.”

Carl threw up his hands. “Okay, whatever! I’ll see what I can do.”

He turned and strode back down the dimly lit hallway, leaving me alone. I turned and headed into the changeroom. I needed a shower.

And a drink.