Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Bones, unless you want to be six feet under. Get your fucking—”
I groaned. The fluorescent lights above me carved daggers into my skull. My head was throbbing, and when I tried to sit up, the world spun. A gentle hand on my shoulder pushed me back down. Lotto. I could tell that grip from anywhere. I cracked open my eyes and came face-first with three profoundly worried, pissed-off men.
“What happened?” I croaked. My entire body felt like I had been run over by a truck.
“Took a kick to the head,” Bones answered.
“And how long was I out?”
“Long enough,” Frankie growled. He pushed Lotto out of the way and grabbed my elbow, helping me sit. “We need to take you to the hospital. Concussion protocol.”
“We don’t even know if she has a concussion.” Lotto didn’t look thrilled at being pushed aside, his muscles straining when he crossed his arms over his chest.
“She took a fucking roundhouse kick to the head. She needs to see a doctor.”
“I don’t feel sick,” I lied and pushed Frankie away to stand on my own. We were back in the locker room. My back hurt from however many minutes I was unconscious on the old locker room bench, and I felt like I was going to puke—not that I’d admit to that. “My ears aren’t ringing, and I don’t have double vision. I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine!” Frankie’s voice echoed off of the broken rafters. It was so loud, it made me jump back. “Bones had to drag you out of the ring because you were fucking unconscious!”
I glanced over at Bones, the simple move making my head pound even worse. Bones ran a hand along his forehead, his entire face wrinkled in worry.
“It’s not exactly a memory I want to keep,” he said. “You scared the shit out of us.”
“I just… made a mistake,” I admitted. “I got too cocky. Next time—”
“There won’t be a next time,” Frankie said. I turned to him, betrayal stabbing my heart and making it throb worse than my head. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. You’re not going back out there.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I argued and put my hands on my hips. “I held my own out there for how long?”
“Eleven minutes.” Lotto’s lips thinned into a line. “You won the organizers a lot of money, angel. People bet you’d lose in five.”
“I heard Guppy talking about inviting you back,” Bones admitted.
“See!” I cried and threw up my hands. “Everyone is underestimating me. Even you.” I glared at Frankie, but he didn’t back down. If anything, my resistance pissed him off even more. “Eleven minutes in my first match is something to be proud of.”
“Joanne looked pretty banged up,” Lotto agreed. “And she’s been training a lot longer than Ari.”
“And so has Misty Perk. The person you’re supposed to face in a fucking month.” Frankie took a step closer to me. I tensed but didn’t back down. “She’ll wipe the floor with you, Ari. The little housewife is nothing compared to a gold medalist.”
“The little housewife has a mean right hook and plenty more muscle than me.” I pushed a finger into his chest. “So why don’t you back the fuck up and actually give me a chance?”
The locker room went silent. People screaming outside, however. Fights in the ring had gone on even while I was blacked out here. That was just how life in the ring was. It chewed you up and spat you out, and now I was another half-baked snack left to rot in the corner.
I refused to let this be the end of my career.
Frankie exhaled through his nose, then pushed my hand away from his chest. “Do you know how shitty you look right now?”
“Whoa,” Bones whistled. “That’s fucking low, Frankie.”
“And it’s the fucking truth.” He took a step forward, his firm chest pressing up against me. I steeled my jaw as I stared into his burning eyes. “Your entire face is battered and bruised. Your shirt is stained with blood.”
“And whose is it?” I challenged. “Mine or Joanne’s?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter. Blood is blood, and it’s on your hands, either way.” He grabbed my shoulders so tightly I winced. “You’re not doing Heathens Hollow. Misty is going to fuck you up as soon as you step into the ring.”
“Not if you shut your damn mouth and train me.” I narrowed my eyes and shrugged him off. “You can’t punish me for a mistake. I know what’s on the line.”
“Your fucking head, Ari. These people are practically asking for your death.”
“Will you both knock it off?” Lotto demanded and grabbed onto my arm. He gently tugged me back and gazed into my eyes. “Pupils aren’t dilated. Any nausea?”
“Other than listening to Frankie tell me what a piece of shit I am?” I glared at him again. “No. Nothing. I don’t have a concussion.” I hated lying, but if I so much as hinted that I felt like I had a concussion… yeah, a little lie needed to happen.