in the locker room of the arena, my arms crossed over my chest, my eyes assessing every square inch of his body as he prepared to fight a battle that would result in death.
Jacob sat on a bench, his shoulders hunched forward as his eyes crept up to me, the usual humor behind them gone.
He was focused, alert, in a place we all needed to be prior to walking through a set of gates from which there was no turning back.
“I’m ready, Callan. You can stop molesting me with that pissed off stare of yours. Seriously, I’ve felt it on my dick three times. If it happens again, squeeze harder so at least I get off.”
My lips twitched.
“You have Haley for that.”
He smirked.
“Do I?”
Pushing himself up to sit straight, he ground a fist into the palm of his other hand.
“How much of her do I have exactly? Give me a reason to walk out of there.”
My pulse was a steady beat drumming beneath every inch of my flesh. Gaze still assessing him, I met his eyes again and told him the only thing I knew would ensure he stayed alive.
“I released her from her contract. She’s yours. Only if you walk out of that ring. Otherwise, she goes to the man who kills you tonight. And the rules will stop me from being able to do a damn thing about it. Can you imagine what that would do to her? Having to fuck the man that killed her future husband.”
Unsure what stopped him from immediately reacting, and unable to read his thoughts from the blank expression on his face, I stood in place, refusing to so much as blink while Jacob absorbed the truth of what I’d told him.
It was a promise and a threat, what I said.
A reality that he had to carry with him into that pit to face the threat of a very public death.
Seconds ticked past, each one building a silent tension between us, the room too small suddenly, the air charged with a thousand different thoughts.
Pushing slowly to his feet, Jacob watched me with a feral intensity, his movements slow, his expression unmoving, but then his mouth stretched into a beaming smile, his large body lunging foreword to grab me by the shoulder and tug me into a strong hug.
“Thank you,” he said, the side of his head pressed against mine in a familiarity that I would never allow another man.
It was all that needed to be said before he broke his hold on me and stepped back.
I met his stare again, my tone more an order than a suggestion.
“Walk out of there tonight. I won’t accept anything else.”
Nodding his head, he bounced in place, stretched his neck from side to side and made a promise I wasn’t sure he could keep.
“You better fucking believe I’ll walk out. You’ve just given me the best reason not to die.”
Inclining my head, I clapped him on the shoulder and grabbed my suit jacket from the bench.
“Lisbeth’s in the viewing box. I need to get up there before Moritze arrives.”
“I thought she hated these fights. Why is she here?”
Frustration tore through me.
“Because there was no way of stopping her. Believe me, I fucking tried.”
For three days, we’d argued about it. But Lisbeth was as stubborn as me. She refused to let me come alone tonight, not when it was Jacob in the ring.
“A grown ass man getting his ass handed to him by the little woman.” Jacob laughed, his eyes flashing with anticipation for what the night could bring. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
I grinned, hoping this wasn’t the last time I spoke to the asshole. Never hearing him joke around with me again would leave an empty spot in my life that I wasn’t sure could ever be filled by another person.
“Walk out of there,” I said before turning to leave the locker room and make my way into the main part of the arena.
Guests were already arriving to fill the chairs, their conversations becoming a chorus of white noise as I strode past the leather seats while pulling on my jacket.
Hating the restriction of the suit Franklin insisted I wear, I nodded to a few faces I recognized and walked the upper perimeter of the ring. My eyes lifted to the viewing box where Lisbeth stood between Connor and Benny, Franklin a shadow at her back as her gaze tracked my path over the distance, her expression a wash of anxious concern.
I slipped past a