Get Off on the Pain(41)

Now, there’s no going back. It took me six years in that prison to find myself and push my need for fighting in the ring aside. I controlled it in the alley, but not here. I won’t be able to. Not when someone is threatening to take a life. I may never shake this now. I can already feel the release as anticipation of the blow consumes my mind, body, and soul. This is me. Call it sick, but I get off on the pain.

My ice blue eyes lock with Alex’s. Seeing the desperation behind that look is enough to send me into a rampage, not to mention that he looks fucked out of his mind. That means he’s been dreading this moment for a while. He knew it would come down to this.

His arms lay limp at his sides as he struggles to breathe under the beast’s hold. His eyes are already swollen almost completely shut. At this moment I want to kill this man, as well as the sick son of a bitch Asher Sharp, that brought him here in the first place.

My brother doesn’t belong here, but it’s all he knows; all I know.

“Fucking finish him, Abel!” The sick bastard, Asher, orders out, only pissing me off more. “He’s done.”

My eyes flicker over to the beast they call Abel, and in his moment of glory he doesn’t even notice me. His arms flex as he tightens his hold around Alex’s neck and reaches for his chin with his other hand, ready to snap his spine. He smiles a sickening, bloody smile that makes my blood run cold. This son of a bitch is serious. He’s going to kill him. This proves that all the shit I’ve heard about Asher in the past is true.

Shit!

My adrenaline has me sliding under the ropes and coming at Abel in two seconds flat. I see red as my fist pounds into the right side of his temple, before I grip the back of his head and plow my knee right into his face, sending him down to the bloodied cement.

Ah that feels good: fucking release.

I’m pumped up and ready to go.

The skin on my knuckles ripped open upon impact, causing my hand to throb, but it’s a pain I welcome. It gives me a rush, my own personal high. I stand here, blood dripping over my hand as I stare down at Abel’s limp body with my jaw ticking, before looking up to meet Asher’s eyes. I’m heated and now I’m craving more.

He stares back, his eyes narrowed on me, standing from his seat—one of the only few in the warehouse. His eyes are dark, his jaw grinding as he whispers to the man next to him. He’s pissed as fuck and I’ve just signed my fucking death wish.

A few men—probably bodyguards—step between the ropes coming toward me. I should be scared, but it doesn’t faze me. I’ve dealt with far worse than these dick heads before.

I stand up straight, fists clenched at my sides, showing them I’m not going to back down. This is my ring now. I will die if that’s what it comes down to. Nobody fucks with my flesh and blood; the only person that I love.

Nah. Fuck that.

Taking a step back I block Alex behind me, showing them that I will protect him at all costs. I don’t care that I don’t belong in this ring right now, that this isn’t my fight. I put myself here because I deemed it necessary to save the only person I have left.

One of the three men get ready to come at me. I prepare myself to attack, but Asher’s deadly voice causes us all to freeze.

“No! Stay fucking put until I say otherwise.” Asher takes a step closer to the ring while looking me over. When his eyes meet mine he snickers. “Well, what the fuck do we have here? The one hitter quitter.”

My eyebrow arches as I watch him fix his jewelry and nod for a few guys to join him. Now he definitely has my attention.

He laughs again and starts rolling up the sleeves to his black button down. “I’ll be damned. Big fucking Carter brother coming to the rescue. I should have known I’d be lucky enough to have you grace me with your presence.” He lifts his arms as if to get the crowd to cheer. “Fucking Memphis Carter himself.” He raises an eyebrow as I stand there wondering where the fuck he’s going with this. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Just ask Alex. We’ve had plenty of time to bond. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

He brings his attention down to Alex, which is now leaning into the rope next me, breathing heavily. “Right!” He screams. Spit flies and all the veins in his neck pop as he rushes up next to the stage and gets in Alex’s face. “Talk to me, Alex.” He grips the rope, causing Alex to look up.

Alex is covered in blood and sweat, his eyes looking to me for help. I can’t stand seeing him this way, not again. That day scarred me for life, in more ways than one. I made a promise to him that day, a promise to always protect him and be there for him. That little shit is lucky that I keep my promises.