head in the direction of a private box set on the opposite side of the ring that I hadn’t noticed. Inside were Franklin, Antonio and Jacob.
While Antonio paced with a nervous strut, Franklin and Jacob stood still with their arms crossed, their eyes trained on the men below.
“They’re not worried. You can tell by how still they are. Moritze knows his man is as good as dead. Callan is not the man to fuck with.”
A roar erupted through the audience, and my eyes snapped down to the fight.
Mortize’s man had thrown the first punch without a bell or any other indication the fight had started. Callan dodged the blow with an arrogant smirk stretching his lips. He reset his feet and waved his hands between them daring his opponent to step forward.
I knew that expression on Callan’s face intimately. He wore it every time he tortured me.
Connor stayed at my back the entire time the men fought, my own private play by play as he explained what Callan was doing to drag things out for show, how he was allowing his opponent to continue being the aggressor in order to wear him out.
The man didn’t land a single punch, but when Callan’s arm flew out for the first time, a sickening crunch underscored the roar of the crowd, blood flying from the man’s face as his head snapped around.
He stumbled back a few steps before Connor laughed and said, “You see? Callan’s toying with him.”
It was oddly comforting to have Connor explaining the fight to me, even if my stomach was still churning with terror.
But with that terror was burning heat.
Callan was the epitome of masculine temptation, his aggression calling to me, his body a machine that my eyes couldn’t stop admiring. He was liquid again when he fought, a force of nature, brutal and focused, just as violent as he could be when running his tongue between my legs or dragging his teeth along my shoulder. Except in this arena, he promised agony instead of pleasure.
Another few punches and Callan’s opponent was unbalanced and staggering, the fight drawn out by Callan dodging any return blows, the two men circling each other like predators.
It went on like this for a while, Callan barely getting hit while the other guy took a hard beating.
I covered my mouth to suppress a gasp when Callan took a blow to the stomach, but rather than buckling over, he rolled his head over his shoulders and returned the attack by swinging his body around to catch the man’s head with his foot.
His opponent went down with another crunch, blood dripping from his nose and mouth as he fought to push himself up.
Had this been a normal fight, it would have been called at this point, but the crowd began chanting kill him, their eyes wild and voices eager, their feet stomping in time with the demand for an execution.
My gorge rose as Callan approached the man who couldn’t push up to more than his knees. The chanting grew louder. The audience bloodthirsty.
I shook my head and tried to back away, but Connor stepped into me and trapped me against the wall with his hands on either side of me.
“I can’t watch,” I said, attempting to turn away.
He wouldn’t let me move. “Why not? This is the best part.”
Callan towered over the man, his hair slicked back and wet, blood dripping down his body to mix with sweat. His chest and shoulders beat with labored breath, and he stared up at the audience, a dark gaze sweeping over the rows of seating.
Every member in the audience raised their hands in the air to tip their thumbs down, a silent demand that a life be taken.
When his eyes met mine, he grimaced before wrapping his arms around the man’s neck to twist.
I swear I could hear that crack despite the audience, my heart stopping with a painful thud as Callan released the man’s body to slump lifeless to the ground.
Everybody stood from their seat, the boom of their voices so loud, it hurt my ears.
“I’m done. Let me go.”
I fought against Connor in an attempt to escape what I’d seen, but he held me in place even tighter, his deep voice piercing through the roaring crowd to speak against my ear. “It’s not over yet.”
“He’s dead,” I shouted. “What more can there be?”
He grinned against my cheek. “Just watch.”
What could he possibly do now? Rip the body apart and eat it?