To the Ends of the Earth: A Stripped Standalone by Skye Warren Page B
Authors: Skye Warren
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The only thing I can see through the darkness are his eyes, flat and cold.
My stomach turns over with instinctive discomfort.
A man in a suit speaks into a microphone, rallying the crowd to louder and louder heights. The sound becomes waves, crashing over me. It’s impossible to speak to Allie, even yelling. I can’t even think with this much commotion around me, sweeping me up into its frenetic energy. It feels like the exorcisms Leader Allen would do, his violence turning the crowd into a mob. In fact, that’s who the other fighter’s eyes remind me of—Leader Allen’s, hollow and reptilian. He takes off his robe, revealing ropes of muscle layered on top of each other. He’s in the corner nearest me, so I can’t see his face.
The only comfort is West, the guard, who stands a few rows back from me.
I’m grateful to Luca for sending him to guard me.
The buzzer goes off, and the fight begins.
Both men circle each other, throwing easy hits that aren’t returned. They’re testing each other. I’ve watched Luca fight all week. I know his style. He’s holding back plenty.
Then suddenly everything shifts, and the other man lunges for Luca. A solid hit, which whips around Luca’s large body. When he straightens, his lip is bloody—and there’s a feral gleam in his eyes. As if that taste of blood is all he needed to attack.
Luca pulls a combination move that has the other man staggering against the ropes.
But he’s up again and coming back at Luca. They’re well matched, both of them at the top of their games. The best in this underground fighting world. Head to head. I cringe every time the other man lands a punch on Luca, wince when he takes a fall.
I’m close enough that I see the other man knee Luca’s groin.
I call out as if I can somehow fix it.
Colin’s shouting, his face a mask of fury. The ref calls a time and gives the other man a warning. But if there was any doubt, now I know he’ll fight dirty.
They wear each other down, both of them violent and ferocious. It’s painful to watch, but I can’t look away. This is the man I love—
The thought stops me cold. This is the man I love.
Do I love Luca? I’m not sure, but I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt.
The other man has to head back to his corner. That’s when I get a clear view of his face, a spotlight flashing over those features so like mine. Alex. My brother. My heart stops. How is that possible? No wonder the men working with Luca didn’t see him. He’s not a spectator.
He’s a fighter.
Then something gold and shiny catches my eye. It’s on the other man’s hand. A ring? My stomach drops. No. Brass knuckles. He’ll hurt Luca. He’ll kill him!
I take a step toward the ring, determined to do something. I don’t know if anyone else has seen them, but it’s way too loud to hear anything. I have to help him.
A hand on my arm pulls me back.
West. He frowns at me, his mouth forming words.
I yell at him. “Luca’s in trouble. Brass knuckles! My brother!”
He doesn’t understand, so I point to my knuckles. His eyes widen. He mouths the words, Stay here. And only because I think he’s probably right do I listen. I’m afraid that if I climbed into the ring, I’d distract Luca—giving the other man the perfect opening. He needs real help, someone strong, someone who can fight.
West heads for the ring, but two security men block him.
He exchanges rapid words with them before shaking his head in disgust. He starts to turn away—where is he going? He’s circling the ring, I realize, heading for Colin. Colin sees him coming, knows there’s a problem, but he doesn’t know what.
That’s when Alex’s fist comes up in the air, flashing the spotlight back in the crowd. Everyone can see the brass knuckles, but it’s too late.
“Luca,” I scream.
My warning is swallowed by the crowd. The other man’s fist hits Luca’s face in a spray of blood, and I scream again, wordless and horrified. No no no.
I
My stomach turns over with instinctive discomfort.
A man in a suit speaks into a microphone, rallying the crowd to louder and louder heights. The sound becomes waves, crashing over me. It’s impossible to speak to Allie, even yelling. I can’t even think with this much commotion around me, sweeping me up into its frenetic energy. It feels like the exorcisms Leader Allen would do, his violence turning the crowd into a mob. In fact, that’s who the other fighter’s eyes remind me of—Leader Allen’s, hollow and reptilian. He takes off his robe, revealing ropes of muscle layered on top of each other. He’s in the corner nearest me, so I can’t see his face.
The only comfort is West, the guard, who stands a few rows back from me.
I’m grateful to Luca for sending him to guard me.
The buzzer goes off, and the fight begins.
Both men circle each other, throwing easy hits that aren’t returned. They’re testing each other. I’ve watched Luca fight all week. I know his style. He’s holding back plenty.
Then suddenly everything shifts, and the other man lunges for Luca. A solid hit, which whips around Luca’s large body. When he straightens, his lip is bloody—and there’s a feral gleam in his eyes. As if that taste of blood is all he needed to attack.
Luca pulls a combination move that has the other man staggering against the ropes.
But he’s up again and coming back at Luca. They’re well matched, both of them at the top of their games. The best in this underground fighting world. Head to head. I cringe every time the other man lands a punch on Luca, wince when he takes a fall.
I’m close enough that I see the other man knee Luca’s groin.
I call out as if I can somehow fix it.
Colin’s shouting, his face a mask of fury. The ref calls a time and gives the other man a warning. But if there was any doubt, now I know he’ll fight dirty.
They wear each other down, both of them violent and ferocious. It’s painful to watch, but I can’t look away. This is the man I love—
The thought stops me cold. This is the man I love.
Do I love Luca? I’m not sure, but I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt.
The other man has to head back to his corner. That’s when I get a clear view of his face, a spotlight flashing over those features so like mine. Alex. My brother. My heart stops. How is that possible? No wonder the men working with Luca didn’t see him. He’s not a spectator.
He’s a fighter.
Then something gold and shiny catches my eye. It’s on the other man’s hand. A ring? My stomach drops. No. Brass knuckles. He’ll hurt Luca. He’ll kill him!
I take a step toward the ring, determined to do something. I don’t know if anyone else has seen them, but it’s way too loud to hear anything. I have to help him.
A hand on my arm pulls me back.
West. He frowns at me, his mouth forming words.
I yell at him. “Luca’s in trouble. Brass knuckles! My brother!”
He doesn’t understand, so I point to my knuckles. His eyes widen. He mouths the words, Stay here. And only because I think he’s probably right do I listen. I’m afraid that if I climbed into the ring, I’d distract Luca—giving the other man the perfect opening. He needs real help, someone strong, someone who can fight.
West heads for the ring, but two security men block him.
He exchanges rapid words with them before shaking his head in disgust. He starts to turn away—where is he going? He’s circling the ring, I realize, heading for Colin. Colin sees him coming, knows there’s a problem, but he doesn’t know what.
That’s when Alex’s fist comes up in the air, flashing the spotlight back in the crowd. Everyone can see the brass knuckles, but it’s too late.
“Luca,” I scream.
My warning is swallowed by the crowd. The other man’s fist hits Luca’s face in a spray of blood, and I scream again, wordless and horrified. No no no.
I
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