The warehouse I was currently in stank of sweat, blood, piss, and beer. People surrounded me on all sides, screaming and cheering for the bloodbath they knew would soon come. They were blood-thirsty beasts, getting high on the violence while staying relatively safe outside of the ring.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I bounced on the balls of my feet, waiting for the fucker to join me.

I was already drenched in sweat, and my muscles were tense from my earlier match. My left side pulsed now and again from the solid hit I'd taken, but the adrenaline was like my own body's painkiller. Needless to say, I gave that guy back tenfold what he'd given me. My opponent looked like a pulp by the time he tapped out. He had to be carried out of the ring, groaning the entire time.

Tony hadn't disappointed me when I called a few hours ago, demanding to get in on the action at tonight's event. Yesterday went to fucking hell, and today hadn't gone any better. Seconds after Callan hung up on me after informing me that Emma knew everything, I'd contacted Tony.

The only time I didn't think was when I was fighting, and I needed that now because Emma had my mind spiraling, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I needed my head clear, so we could figure out a way to get her to talk to us.

Emma was hurt, and fuck if I didn't get that. Giving someone your trust was one of the hardest things to do because it left you vulnerable with no defenses. If you gave someone your trust, you wouldn't expect to be hurt by them, which only made it worse if they did.

Aside from her beauty, what had truly drawn me towards her, was her naivety. She'd given us her trust openheartedly, and easily. That had made me feel something for once–something other than anger. For a second there, she made me feel worthy, not of her, of course, because I didn't think I ever would be, but just...worthy of more. And then, we made her pay for the trust she'd so freely given.

I clenched my jaw at the thought of how she must be feeling, knowing the lengths we'd gone to, the lies, and the manipulation we'd done to get her. The lies turned into secrets, and we all knew secrets were bound to come out at one point in time–we were just dumb enough to think it wouldn't.

Our foundation had been built on nothing but sand, and it was my friends' and mine's fault. I only hoped she'd give us a chance to rebuild it into something stronger.

The screaming of the people amplified as Randy, or known to the people as Riptide, walked up to the ring. I hadn't even registered him being announced–I got lost in thoughts too quickly unless I had something to distract myself with.

My eyes narrowed as I took in Randy. He was a burly man about my height, a couple of years my senior. His nose was crooked from being broken one too many times, and I knew under the mouthguard, he was missing a couple of teeth.

Randy sized me up and down before giving me his trademark smile, the one that was meant to intimidate his opponent. I simply gave him a bored look in return, though I could feel the excitement coursing through me. This would be fun.

Prodding at the wrapping around my hands, I made sure it was firmly in place.

"I heard you were going to be here today, executioner, and I couldn't pass up the chance to return the favor from last year," he said, his eyes glinted with the same excitement I was feeling. Fighting was a high all of us who participated in the ring were addicted to. In the past, this was the one thing that actually made me feel something other than anger.

"Then you'll have to try harder than last time, Riptide," I whispered gruffly, trying to ignore the nickname these people had given me. The nickname, executioner, or ex for short, started the day I won my first match. The guy I'd been fighting against looked like he'd been executed with how much he was bleeding–thus, it became my name in the ring. They had no idea how appropriate it actually was­.

The referee, always present in the ring, gave us our final instructions, and then we were set to start.

We circled each other, my eyes entirely focused on my opponent, blocking out everything around us and zeroed in on his movements. Randy was a little harder to read than many of the other men I'd fought against over the years.

He didn't give out a hint of what he planned to do until a split second before he struck with a punch intended for my hurt rib, forcing me to act quickly to block the attempt. Pressing me further, he went hard on the offensive, and I relied on my instincts as I blocked and evaded his advances. He managed a few minor hits–nothing serious.

I knew he was trying to rile me up, hoping I'd get angry, so I'd slip up and make mistakes. This guy didn't know anger was my normal state of mind unless I was fighting–or when Emma was around.

Tired of letting him push me around, I disrupted his rhythm with a quick jab to his cheek. The feel of his cheekbone rattling beneath my knuckles brought me a sick sense of satisfaction. He got back at me with a roundhouse kick to the ribs, which I should've been protecting. Though, the added pain to my side only made me come alive–I thrived on hurting people, but fuck if I didn't know how to take pain as well.

We continued on for several minutes. I landed four more punches while he got me hard on the shoulder. Randy was a great MMA fighter, and I enjoyed the thrill of an even-ish match.

A roar went through the crowd as he landed a particularly painful hit on my jaw and partially on my mouth. They hungered for the violence we were giving them.

"You're holding back," Randy accused as I evaded an overhand, but I didn't follow up with a round kick when I had the perfect chance to do so. "What the fuck, man? Why are you dragging this out? Come at me."

He'd been right. I was dragging this out, ignoring some of the openings I'd had. I needed to tire myself out, and there was no one else to fight against after him.

Doing what he wanted, I finally decided to let loose and came at him. I dodged a punch to the temple that had enough force behind it to take me out and launched a series of attacks to his upper body and face.

"Ex! Ex! Ex!" People were cheering my nickname as I gave my opponent precisely what he'd asked for. He might've thought he'd had a chance tonight to bring me down, but I'd only been playing with him.

I was brutal, unleashing the stress of these two past days on the guy in front of me.

When he fell down, I went after him and only stopped when the referee interjected on Randy's behalf because that fucker was too stubborn for his own good.

A roar went through the mass as I was announced as the winner yet again. I didn't stay long enough for them to start congratulation me. Beating a man down was nothing to celebrate. For me, it was just a release.

Wiping at my busted lip, I got out of the ring. The crowd parted for me like the red fucking sea, and I made my way to the section we used as a dressing room and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants over my shorts.

As the adrenaline left me, my body started to feel the pain I'd amassed throughout the matches. Still, none of it mattered because now that I didn't have anything else to focus on, my mind went right back to Emma, just like it always did.

The physical pain I could handle, but the pain of knowing we'd broken her trust was far worse. I wouldn't blame her if she despised us for it. We deserved it.

From the moment we'd seen her in the club that night, we've been spellbound. She was like a magnet we couldn't help but be drawn to, and in our haste to get to her, we made shitty decisions that could be the reason we not only got her but lost her.

"Ey, man, you in here?" Tony called out but didn't wait for an answer as he waltzed in. He was a tiny guy but with big enough balls to be hanging around with the low-life criminals that frequented this part of the city. We were far from friends, but I could depend on him whenever I needed a good fight.

"Here's your cut of the winnings." He waved the bills he was holding before depositing them in my hand.

I nodded in thanks and stood up, throwing the money in my bag and slung it over my shoulder. The cash would be donated to one of my favorite non-profit organizations. I had no need for it.

"Alright, you know the drill. Give me a call whenever you want in," Tony said and walked away.

Fuck this day. And fuck yesterday too.

At this moment, I was supposed to be with Emma. It was supposed to be my night with her, and instead, I was in some seedy part of the city, drenched in sweat and blood and with a body that ached with each movement.

Thing was, I'd known I liked the girl, but I hadn't realized how much I wanted to be with her until I couldn't. The thrill she'd made me feel was even better than fighting.

Shit, but I fucking missed that annoying girl who kept asking me questions and making me talk, even when I didn't feel like it, because with her, I couldn't deny her anything. At some point in these few weeks, she'd become my weakness, and while I didn't appreciate the crack in my armor, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I needed to get Mateo back into the fold and find out a way to get her back so she could continue to annoy me–preferably for my entire life.