Like a roman gladiator fighting until he could no longer stand Lincoln dominated his competition. The more he won the more enthused I became. This was all so new to me, and even though it was completely barbaric and had the capabilities to get gruesome in the matter of seconds I found myself getting lost in the adrenalin.

It was the same pride and intensity someone would feel while watching an Olympic hockey game. Here in Canada, that was a huge deal. And even though I wasn't usually a fan of hockey, the Olympic games always got me jumping on the bandwagon. That's sort of how I felt in this moment. Fighting was never something I condoned but to see Lincoln up there, it made me want to cheer along with the rest of the crowd.

If I wasn't so afraid for him I would have been ecstatic but it was hard to see him get blows to the head and take impacts to his body. I didn't want to see him hurt. So when the eighth round came I was a nervous wreck. Lincoln was physically exhausted. His body protesting to continue. The intensity of his blows lost their precision, his movement slowed. It wasn't looking good.

Lincoln deserved credit though. He didn't give up or throw in the towel. He pressed on, going on the defensive when he no longer had the energy to create his own assault. From where I stood I could see him panting, his breath coming out in strangled tuffs as he tried desperately to defend himself. He was just too tired.

When his opponent landed a critical round house kick to his head I swear my heart stopped. The adrenalin that was filtering through my system turned cold with panic. Lincoln lay half on his side, half face down. From where I stood I swear I could see his hand twitching. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. He was crazy enough about thinking to get back up. I prayed he would stay where he was. He had put himself through enough for one night.

To my distaste Lincoln pulled himself up on his hands and knees, his arms shaking with exhaustion. I was tempted to ram my way up to the ring and yell at him to stay down. Luckily enough I wasn't given an opportunity. Andrew emerged from the gated entrance, interfering and bending down by Lincoln's side. They exchanged a few brief words prior to Andrew latching on to his friend's torso, yanking him up right.

His face was worse than I'd seen last night. Everything was fresh. The old and new injuries combining in a swamp of gruesome discolouration. The blood trickled from various abrasions, a few old cuts reopened.

Knowing Lincoln would want to walk out with dignity Andrew released his hold once his friend was completely balanced. Lincoln tentatively made his way out of the cage with Andrew guiding him, a stern hand on his shoulder. My eyes followed their movements until they were completely out of sight and making their way through the crowd.

The roar of cheering suddenly was too loud for me to handle. The celebrating fighter on stage caused my blood to boil. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke choking me. The high from watching Lincoln fight disappeared with him and everything began to settle in my mind.

I had found my answer. This was the crap Lincoln was involving himself in, beating strangers half to death. Case closed.

I struggled with finding the appeal. Instead of working or caring for his sister he was dancing with death. He could get himself killed. My mind replayed the finishing round house kick that brought him to the ground. It could have killed him, got him concussed, or landed him in the hospital with a coma.

When the next brawl began I was no longer induced with excitement. I didn't even feel the confusion or fear I had swimming through me for the majority of the night. I was angry.

Lincoln Pierce was going down.

I wiggled my way out of the hyped crowd, like a worm trying to get out of a can of sardines. I was getting jostled from left and right. An elbow even bashed itself into my shoulder, but before I could turn around to see the culprit I was pushed further out.

I needed to get out of here. I needed to get out now. The smokey haze from the number of lit cigars were suffocating, the noise causing my ears to ring.

I wanted out, I needed out.

Bolting towards the first exit sign I saw I slammed into the dense door with the entirety of my body. Both flights of concrete stairs were taken two at a time. One wrong move and I would surely land flat on my face, no doubt knocking out a tooth.

For once I appreciated the crispness of the winter air as I made my way to freedom. It was a huge improvement in comparison to the all-too-stuffy basement.

The palms of my shaky hands rested on my hips as I heaved to catch my breath. This was way too much excitement for one night. Having my fill of Lincoln's double life I tried to find the path I followed before so I could get the hell out of this industrial maze.

I hadn't even made it to the other end of the building when the metal door that helped my escape slammed open so hard it ricocheted off the wall it was attached to. The sound of the impact caused me to jump with a shriek, throwing myself behind the nearest dumpster.

A group of figures came tumbling out of the exit grappling. One even rolling to the floor in his haste, having tripped over the threshold. From where I was situated, with no help from the little amount of light, I was forced to squint as I watched the shadows battle it out. It was two against one at this point, the one who fell had yet to pick himself up.

The man being ganged upon was forced to drop the bag he had slung over his shoulder. As those three had a go at one another a fifth figure came flying out from the building, knocking the man on the floor back down.

I was so enthralled with what was happening I ignored the protesting of my fingers that were braced against the frigid metal of the dumpster. Most of my curiosity was due to the familiarity of the built, shadowy figure defending himself.

I had a weird, nagging suspicion that he was the reason I was out here in the first place.

Could I even leave now if I wanted to? What if I got caught, would they stop me? My mind wandered and I weighed my chances of escaping without being spotted.

Grunts and groans filled the alley. The unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh made me cringe from my post. At least down in the underground there was no way of me hearing the struggling in the arena.

Newcomers came busting through the side exit. Their hulking figures passively making their way out, putting themselves in the middle of the fight. Both men grabbing hold of whoever they could, making their presence known.

A murmur of conversation buzzed through the alley and I strained to hear what was being said.

"You lot know the rules, don't ya? No unregistered brawls outside The Pit permitted. If you wanna get banned keep up your tactics Silva. We don't need trouble makers 'round here."

"You three get yourselves back inside. If you wanna leave you're waiting 'til Pierce is good and gone."

It was Lincoln.

Only one of the three figures ordered back inside hesitated, staring down the man who once had the bag over his shoulder. But soon he too turned to leave, disappearing back to where he came.

"Good run tonight Pierce." One of the bulky figures commented after all three men disappeared. Sending a congratulating slap to Lincoln's shoulder he said, "Keep it up like that and you'll be rollin' in it my man, rollin' in it."

They carried on a few more brief moments of conversation prior to heading back inside and leaving both men alone in the alley. The one I knew now to be Lincoln scooped down to retrieve his discarded duffle bag. As he fixed himself up more mumbling echoed down to where I was crouched. The pair were stepping closer, ready to leave. I could finally make out their faces as they passed a single, small lamp mounted high above our heads.

Scooting backwards I shuffled until I was pressed against both the wall and the dumpster, putting myself in a corner. I didn't have time to run now. I just had to wait and hope they walked right on by. All I would have to do subsequent to that is trail after them back to the parking lot, and make it back to Lincoln's with enough time to usher Ella out.

Soundlessly I waited for them to pass, slipping my lips into my mouth so I was sure not to utter a word. The shuffling of their shoes against the asphalt had my heart racing at the idea of getting caught.

Now that I knew what he was capable of the possibility of Lincoln hurting me seemed all that much more real. Especially now that he was hyped from fighting.

I could more clearly hear their conversation now but I was too focused on settling my beating heart to ease drop. I held my breath as they passed so as not to make a sound. To my disbelief they both continued on, neither spotting me in my crammed corner.

I unhitched my lips from between my teeth. I was in the clear. I let out the breath I'd been holding very slowly. Something was actually going my way for once on this action packed night. I smiled to myself, proud that I was able to pull this whole crazy thing off.

But I spoke too soon.

Slowly, but surely, I felt the tickle building up within my nose.

Oh, no. I pleaded within my head. Don't sneeze, don't sneeze, please don't sneeze.

No amount of chanting was able to save me now. With the force equivalent to a firehose I released. The sound filtered through the industrial maze and into the night. If I were in the mountains instead of a warehouse district I would have, without a doubt, be buried in ten feet of snow right about now. There was no way either one of the boys didn't hear that.

Slowly, I turned my head in the direction Lincoln and Andrew went. The pair had stopped, Lincoln looking the least impressed.

"Hi," I chirped with an unsure smile. I even threw in a small wave with my greeting. How I thought a friendly greeting was going to save my behind was beyond me. "So... how was your night?"

* * * * *

Me getting caught went exactly as I could have expected.

Lincoln ushered me the whole way back to the plaza, a tight, unforgiving hold on my elbow. I babbled on, attempting to give some sort of reasonable explanation, all the while Andrew kept a few feet back cracking a joke every once in a while.

"I mean, how was I meant to know you two were headed to some sort of underground fight club?" I questioned only to stumble over a crack in the sidewalk.

"You weren't. That's the whole point." Lincoln bit out. Those were the first few words he'd spoken during our trek back. "You need to keep your nose out of my business and quit meddling."

I scrunched up my features at the thought of being considered nosey. I wasn't nosey. Was I? "I just don't understand the appeal."

"You're not meant to!" Lincoln stopped, yanking me to a halt. "Don't you get it? Absolutely none of this is any of your business."

He was about to continue walking but I kept my elbow by my side, refusing to move any further. "So, lemme get this straight, you'd rather act like a neanderthal than spend time with your baby sister? Aren't you just a stellar big brother!" Hoping my sarcasm drenched him to the core I detached my limb from his grasp. "You could actually be doing things to better yourself and instead you're down in that grimy basement fighting. For what, Lincoln? What are you fighting for?"

"Feisty." Andrew drawled, his hand out acting like a set of claws. "Meow."

As per usual, having to deal with both Lincoln and Andrew at the same time made my blood boil. Keeping my lips in a tight line I stared the teen down - or rather, up - with my most unamused expression. I wasn't up for dealing with the both of them.

"Drew, head home." Lincoln instructed reading my mind, his annoyed gaze not leaving my face.

"What about you?"

"California will drive me home. It's the least she can do after stalking me all night."

I flinched when he said it like that. He made it sound so bad. "Could we just call it detective work?"

He blinked. "Maybe if you didn't follow me around town and into a basement."

"Alright, I'm heading out." Andrew announced, patting both of us on the shoulder as he passed, almost causing me to topple over. "You two kids have fun."

"We'll have oodles of it." Lincoln muttered blandly.

An unflattering grimace graced my features. "Yeah, cause you're the definition of a good time."

A deep chuckle fluttered over from Andrew as he made his way back on his own. "Peace out girl scouts."

I watched as Andrew made his way down the street, hands stuffed in his jacket as he whistled a marry tune. "Are those like his official parting words or something?"

"You aren't in a position to judge California." Lincoln gazed down at me, a brow raised.

"It's Cali. If you're actually going to start saying my name at least say it properly."

"You're lucky I'm not calling you jailbait. You do realize stalking is illegal, right?"

Rolling my eyes I recited, "Like I said, I was playing detective."

"Is that what I should tell the cops?" Lincoln threatened crossing his arms, causing them to flex.

I mimicked his actions. "Yeah, and right after that you can tell them I followed you to an illegal underground fight club. I'm sure they'll completely understand your situation."

"You're a royal pain in my ass. I hope you realize that. You're a lot more trouble than you're worth."

"Well, I had to find out somehow!" I shouted exasperated, throwing my hands up in the air for emphasis. "You weren't going to give me any answers as to why you look like you'd just been hit by a bus. I'm sorry I had an ounce of human decency, enough to worry about you and figure out what the hell was going on. You don't owe me anything, not even an explanation, but that little girl you left at home tonight doesn't need her big brother jailed up, in a coma, or dead in a ditch!"

Lincoln just stared me down. He eyed me intensely and I wondered what was going through his mind. Was he actually considering what I had said?

A shiver ran down my body, a breeze finding its way into my sweater. It didn't go unnoticed by Lincoln who clutched at my elbow again, this time with a little less force.

"Everything I do is for a reason. Don't sit there and judge me, assuming that I act like a delinquent for kicks. You're right when you said I don't have to explain myself to you. And I wont."

Knowing I shoved my foot in my mouth I stayed quiet for the rest of the walk back to the plaza. I was silently seething that Lincoln was back to hiding things. The fact that I was so angry forced me to digest Lincoln's words. Maybe he was right, maybe I was nosey.

When we got to the plaza parking lot Andrew was already long gone, his black Jeep no longer where the boys had left it. The rest of the plaza was practically empty as well. Only a few other cars dotted around the dark asphalt. Lincoln had let go of my arm at this point, which I was silently thankful for. I took the opportunity to wrap my arms around myself to help shield from the cold. There was no way I wouldn't be sick after this. I could already feel my frost bitten nose running. It was disgusting.

Reaching into my back pocket I pulled out my keys, unlocking the door. Lincoln slipped in shortly after me but I was already rushing to warm up the car at this point. My baby was a little temperamental in the winter and I knew we wouldn't be going anywhere until it was warm enough.

While I was in the midst of turning dials Lincoln held out my coat to me. "Put it on."

"It's fin-"

"Put it on." I jumped a little at his tone. It wasn't any different from how he would speak to me before, not any meaner, or louder. But now being in such a small space and knowing what he was capable of... I was a little unsure if I should try testing his limits anymore. Lincoln seemed to take notice of what I was thinking and in no way did it appease him.

I stared at the colouration of his abused knuckles as I reached for my jacket. Taking what was mine I slid it on as best as I could while seated. The rustling of me putting on my jacket was all that could be heard in the silence.

The stillness felt awkward after a short while. As I sat there listening to the drone of cars I figured I'd given Lincoln an explanation before he asked.

"We just have to wait a couple minutes for it to warm up." I said looking out the windshield.

If Lincoln heard me he didn't show it. Curiosity got the best of me again and I peeked over in my peripheral vision. He fiddled with his bottom lip as he stared absentmindedly out the side window. Looking over him now I felt sort of ashamed for thinking Lincoln would hurt me. He hadn't before and I pretty much busted my way into his private life, sticking my nose where it didn't belong.

"Does anyone else know about you... you know?" I asked quietly, trying not to make it seem like I was prying again.

"Not many."

"You don't tell many people?"

Lincoln scoffed, "Not unless I want a criminal record."

I waited a minute. "How about your parents?"

"What about them?" Lincoln questioned back, releasing his bottom lip and resting his arm.

"Do they know?"

Lincoln let out a puff of air resembling a short, breathy laugh but he never answered the question. Taking that as a sign to drop the conversation I removed my hands from my lap, putting the car in drive. If Lincoln didn't want to tell me his life story, that was fine.

I'd have to learn to live with it.