pull my hand from his, quickly looking back at the ring, where I see, at breakneck speed and perfect precision, a left, a right, and an uppercut lands on Ranger’s face. I watch as he hits the mat, out cold.
Brisa is at my side, yelling for him to get up.
I watch as Tobias circles him like a jungle cat stalking its prey while stretching his arms across his body.
“Fuck yes.” Harrison grins then cups his mouth and yells, “Fuck. Yes!”
Tobias doesn’t even react to Harrison, or any of the crowd; he continues to circle until the referee raises his arm and announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you tonight’s winner by a knockout, Easton the Experience!”
He lets out a breath, probably more like a sigh of relief at knowing the fight is over.
Same, Tobias Easton, same, I think.
When he kneels down beside Ranger, I see Frank and another guy from earlier slide into the ring. Oh, shit, I think as Tobias taps him on the side of the face a few times.
Expecting he may get jumped, I slide under the rope, knowing at the very least that Patrick will come to my aid if shit goes down.
“Truth!” Patrick calls from behind me as I hurry toward the ring, and I am not alone. Half the damn spectators are doing the same.
When I see Frank and the other man smiling down at Ranger, and then I see Ranger open his eyes, smile, and flip Tobias the bird, I stop.
Tobias stands, reaches out his hand, and Ranger takes it. When he pulls him up, they do the whole bro hug thing.
I get pushed into the ring, and although I’ve never been afraid of crowds, right now, fear—no, scratch that; panic—sets in. I try to turn and push my way back through the crowd to get to Patrick, but I get knocked back against the ring, my head hitting something, and I start to lose focus.
“This is not how I’m going out!” I yell as I lunge forward, only to be pushed back, twist my ankle, and start to fall.
When I feel myself being jacked up by one arm and my feet hit the mat, I cringe as a sharp pain shoots up my leg. I look up to thank whoever helped me and into very angry, very swollen blue eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I feel my eyes start to burn and my bottom lip starts to quiver.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he growls as he looks over my head.
I watch as he scans the crowd, puts two fingers in his mouth, and nods toward the back. I think it’s the back, anyway. Being disoriented, one never knows. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me to follow him, but I pull back.
“I don’t have time to babysit you!”
I force myself to limp across the ring behind him.
Once at the ropes, he looks back. “Climb through and stay up on the mat.” He holds the ropes apart as I slide through, feeling dizzy as I look down. Then he jumps down and looks up at me. “Come on!”
When I hesitate, he holds out a bloodied, bruised hand. I take it and jump down, crying out when I land.
“The fuck is wrong with you?”
“I don’t feel very good,” I tell him as I try to move forward and stumble. Pain and I have never been friends, but never have I ever felt like I was going to throw up because of it.
He catches me, sweeps my legs out from under me, and lifts me up. Then he jogs as he carries me toward the back of the building and away from the crowd.
Please put me down, I internally plead when my stomach begins to lurch.
“You throw up on me, and I’m going to drop you on your ass,” he hisses as he turns and slams into a door, pushing it open.
“Just put me down!” I yell, holding my stomach with both hands now.
When he finally does, he grabs the back of my head, forcing it down and toward a sink. I begin to throw up.
His hands gripping my hair roughly, he starts blasting me. “You feel like a badass now, huh?” he snaps as my stomach lurches again. “Getting drunk and acting like a little thug tonight.”
I throw up.
“Breaking into my fucking house and sneaking around like some entitled, little rich bitch who wants the shit she left behind on demand?”
I throw up again.
“Then show up here like