Winter's War (Her Guardians series Book 4)(50)

My face morphs into a look of disgust as I look around the cold, dirty concrete room, my phone and casual clothing still sitting on the metal bench. The yellow and orange stained showers dripping water from the last batch of fighters, fighting gear and tape strewn all around the room. The scent of sweat, blood and something else causing my nose to scrunch up in revulsion. Picking up my belongings, I throw them into my grey locker that is littered with bumper stickers. I turn my phone off and shove that in too before slamming the locker closed.

Standing at the entrance of the locker rooms I wait to hear my name called, I have less than a minute left until my fight starts, so I luckily won’t have to stand here looking a little stupid for much longer. I genuinely don’t understand the importance of these entrances, this is underground fighting not the fucking UFC. We get in the cage, we fight till submission or unconsciousness and then we leave. A grand entrance isn’t going to change the outcome of the fight.

I hear the voice over the speaker hush the crowd down to near silence, I flex my fingers in the tape in anticipation, trying to loosen the tension across the knuckles. I close my eyes when I hear the slimy voice of the announcer start to speak, allowing my anger to rise to the surface.

“Alright Alright, I know you have been waiting for this fight allll niiiigghht looongg…” he says in a very suggestive tone.

God I want to punch him in his tiny little head. The resounding male howls and whoops that I hear make me want to roll my eyes. Apparently girl on girl is hot in any form, even when they are beating the shit out of each other.

“The first of two female shifter fights of the night; we’re in for a treat. The first fight is wolf against wolf. Let’s not waste time with bullshit, Stephanie your opponent for the night is Ava,” At least he cuts straight to the point, and with that introduction my eyes flash open and I walk out of the training room, and straight towards the cage.

Surrounding the octagon shaped ring is rusted chain link fencing up to the roof, with only one way in or out, a door that is locked until someone submits, is knocked out, or is dead.

I can feel the eyes of hundreds of supernatural following me. I can see their mouths moving, the tension rising in the air from the aggression pouring off the spectators, but I hear nothing. The killing calm is a nifty little trick I learnt in my first few fights, drown out my sense of hearing before the fight in favour of my other senses, it drowns out all the bullshit.

The stands around the cage are filled, row upon row, built up four levels in a circular pattern around the cage. It makes the cage feel like a dirtier, smaller scale of the Colosseum; each fighter playing for the favour of the Emperor, or in my case, the large pot of money I win at the end of every match. Every step I take on the blood covered floor just riles me up further, my opponent already in the ring, trying to rally the crowd behind her. Stephanie is quite pretty by anyone’s standard, it’s a shame I may have to bruise her face. Her curly strawberry blonde swishing left and right in her pony tail as she moves about the cage. Her pale skin a stark contract to the black fight gear she has on. I approach the cage, giving a small head nod in acknowledgment to Allister, the seedy announcer. He really does look like a cockroach, with his small head, small beady eyes, narrow nose and mouse brown hair that looks perpetually greasy. I feel the vibration of the door slamming shut the second my feet press in to the mat of the cage. This is it.

The second the lights and buzzers signify the start of the match, Stephanie attacks. Luckily for me, I manage to dodge the fist coming straight for my temple. I swiftly spin, and round house kick her in the face before she can turn around. As my foot lowers back on the ground I bring myself into my fighting stance, ignoring the stinging I’m feeling in my toes from the impact of my kick.

Stephanie advances again, trying to kick my feet out from underneath me. I jump over her long sweeping legs trying to avoid falling to the floor. Before she has an opportunity to move. I crouch down quickly on the floor and drive my fist into her stomach, on my way back up I drive me knee into her nose. Yep, that was going to bruise her face. I should really remember to apologise for that later. That little lapse in concentration costs me a foot to the stomach, I fly back and hit the cage fence which has only the tiniest bit of give in it. I manage to roll to the side just as one of Stephanie’s clenched fists fly forward towards the space my face was just in.

I lunge towards her, picking her up at the hips and driving her into the ground. I pin her beneath my body and without a moment’s hesitation throw a few quick jabs to her face. She is bucking beneath me like I’m bull rider and manages to flip me off her on the last large thrust. I quickly stand and prepare for an attack I know is stalking me. Stephanie runs towards me as I shift my weight and quickly bring my knee up to make a slamming contact with her left side ribs. The impact of my hit drives her towards the barrier, I rush at her before she can move off the fence and try to land every blow I can into her unprotected left side. While trading punches, my wolf’s concentration waivers, searching for something I cannot see, not the regular behaviour for my wolf. She has two modes; asleep and vicious.

My gaze momentarily lands on a tall man behind Stephanie’s head who has just entered The Pit. He walks straight to the bar, not even looking over at the cage. The man in question is tall, dressed in a button up top and suit pants and has brown hair from what I can see. I tear my gaze away, having every intension of finding this man after the fight, maybe to burn off some adrenaline. I force my concentration back to the fight, my arms continuing to pound into the soft tissue of my opponent’s stomach.