Page 40 of Quiet Obsession
“That’s insane,” Abby breathes. “Is this even legal?”
Dash laughs, the sound warming me up. I like it when he’s around. He’s overbearing sometimes, but so carefree it makes me feel light.
“Not at all,” he says.
The mass of bodies below shifts, everyone’s attention snapping toward the cage.
“Let’s move,” Noah says. “Creed’s up soon.”
His hand settles on the small of my back as he guides us to the stairs. We push through the crowd, people stepping aside and jutting their chins at Dash and Noah.
“You guys really do run this place,” Abby comments.
She said that before, and even though in theory it didn’t surprise me, seeing their reputation in practice is completely different. I wonder what elevated their status. Is it Creed and his undefeated champion status or is there more?
We stop by the beer tables and Dash waggles his eyebrows at me. “You want one, Mini Ward?”
“Yes, please.”
“Coming right up.” He turns to Abby. “Come on, cupcake, I’ll introduce you to someone. He’s been asking about you.”
Her face falls, disappointment painting her features, but she masks it quickly, stalking after Dash toward a group of guys.
I turn back to Noah and catch him watching me. My mind lights up in an instant. Abby was right when she said my brother’s friends are hot... and holding the attention of someone like Noah makes me feel a little giddy.
I squash that feeling hard.
“So how does this work?” I ask, rising on my tiptoes to speak in his ear so I don’t have to shout. “Walk me through it.”
His arm comes around my waist, holding me steady, and my pulse spikes on cue. “Three one-minute rounds. Fifteen seconds between.” He points toward a long, narrowtable by the cage. “Four judges track points.”
“How many fights?”
“Depends on the evening. Minimum of four. Freshmen go first, seniors last, plus there’s always random guys settling their grudges or testing their skills early on.”
“And Creed?”
Noah smirks. “Main event, of course. He goes last, but we’re late, so it won’t be long.”
“There you go,” Dash mumbles, materializing beside me.
He pushes a red cup into my hand while passing another to Noah. The rim of his cup is clenched between his teeth until his hands are free.
“Where’s Abby?” I ask, glancing around.
“She said to tell you she’s staying with Thomas. He’s a good guy, Mini, I swear. He’ll keep her safe. Don’t worry.”
Noah shifts beside me. “Let’s get you out of the crowd.”
“Yes, VIP time,” Dash cheers.
“A VIP area in an underground fight club?” I ask, cocking one eyebrow because it sounds absurd.
“It gets crazy here sometimes, Mini Ward.”
Noah throws an arm over my shoulders, leading me toward a small fenced-off area near the cage, big enough for maybe ten people. A few guys stand inside, my brother, Brock, and Creed among them. He’s the only one not drinking. His knuckles are wrapped with fresh, snow-white tape and black sweats hang low on his hips, highlighting the V of his abdomen.
It’s criminal how ripped the man is.
