CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (12 page)

CHAPTER 12

Xan felt like time spun out of his control,
throwing him back to years long passed when living at the back of the club was
his only reality. People thought they could pop in whenever they felt like it
and nobody waited for an invitation.

Maybe twelve or thirteen years ago, he was
more social and it didn’t bother him. He really couldn’t recall, but whatever
the past was it was done and his present was a completely different story.

Having some time alone was not only his
preference; it was also a must, especially before a fight.

Like now, he thought, gritting his teeth,
but there were six people in his room and everyone tried to talk at the same
time. His focus was shot and a muscle ticking in his jaw was a clear indication
his temper was going to ignite any moment now.

Not that anyone seemed to care.

He didn’t need any of it, wished he could
keep the rising anger within for the fight awaiting him, because his gut was
telling him that he was going to need it.

Tonight’s opponent’s nickname was The Wall
and they said it was due to the fact his fighting skills and defenses were
impenetrable like one.

That might be, Xan thought, but nobody knew
for sure since whoever dared to ask the guy how it came to be ended up with
some kind of injury.

The fighter liked to break bones and not
only on the ring, it seemed.

None of it bode particularly well for him,
Xan decided, wondering how it was possible he had never heard about the guy in
the first place. There was no way a fighter like that could stay off the radar
and his reputation wouldn’t precede him.

It was simply unheard of.

Tony had no info either, and the only time Tony
didn’t know someone or at least hear about them meant the person didn’t exist
or didn’t matter, which basically meant the same, Xan concluded.

Here he was, twenty minutes before his
fight, not sure what to expect and not able to focus anyway.

He should have kicked their asses out of
his personal space to breathe. Or find another place for himself instead. Hell,
rent a fucking room in a hotel for that matter. Then why was he torturing
himself like that?

His cell vibrated indicating a received
message and an involuntary smile pulled at his lips.

He had called Catalina earlier that day,
but she was running late and promised to text him her address later.

He thought it nothing more than a polite
excuse on her part, not really surprised much. People like them had nothing in
common and if it hadn’t been for a coincidence, they would have never met in
the first place.

He was disbelieving when she agreed to see
him again and even more so now after the message.

In his world, nothing had more value than a
person’s word, especially considering how often it was being violated. He liked
that she kept her word, but then, she seemed pretty determined to him from the
first moment he had laid his eyes on her.

His lips quirked at the corners when he
thought that whatever their meeting would bring, he didn’t think it was going
to be boring.

He looked forward to it.
“It’s time man,” the club’s bouncer called out and Xan dropped the cell onto
his unmade bed.

He didn’t bother himself with things like
that. Not now and not here anyway, since he still couldn’t shake off the
feeling of being back to exactly where he had started. It was more than a disconcerting
thought.

He would have probably been dead without Tony
and Cul-de-sac, or rotting in jail like his father, and Xan was the first one
to admit it.

But he worked too hard to get where he was
and there was no going back.

Not
going back
and no
backing
down
, he thought.
“Out!” He ordered roughly and people jumped to their feet.

Vultures, he thought.

They were already able to scent the blood
of the defeated before the fight could even start. He didn’t delude himself in
believing that they would cry their eyes out if he were the one to lose.

It was all about winners, nobody ever
remembered those who ended up conquered. ‘The king is dead, long live the king’
was still valid, no matter how much of a cliché it was at the same time.

Xan left his room, passing through the back
of the club, and walked toward the ring. It was a well known route he could
take with his eyes closed, no matter the crowd trying to get in his way, always
wanting to gain as much personal contact with the bloody sport as possible.

He gave his opponent a once-over, knowing
he was being assessed in a similar way.

The Wall seemed taller and heavier than him,
which might mean he was slower but it was not a rule and Xan couldn’t discredit
anything before seeing the guy in action.

He was covered with ink from head to toe,
making Xan’s tats seem like child’s play. That didn’t mean anything either, but
he thought that the one on the dude’s left cheek must have hurt like a bitch.

He shrugged inwardly because personal
preferences of the fighter were not his problem unless The Wall was into pain
and it didn’t matter he was on the receiving end of it or was inflicting it on
others. However, judging by the stories about broken bones, Xan assumed the guy
more than enjoyed the latter.

Xan stepped into the ring and the crowd
went wild.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the
audience was truly impressive tonight and he wondered how many came following
the other fighter. In the end it didn’t really matter but it felt as if every
next event attracted more and more people.

As much as Xan could understand it since he
enjoyed MMA
1
himself,
he knew most came to see blood and misery and to cheer the victor, of course.
But maybe only a few could really grasp what the sport was all about.

It wasn’t as simple as kicking ass and
getting paid.

It was about focus and self-control,
something he was struggling with on daily basis but hoped to achieve
eventually. He didn’t think anyone would believe him, Tony would definitely
laugh his ass off hearing that, but Xan didn’t need anyone’s approval. He had
his reasons and had no wish to give any kind of explanation.

People rarely cared for the truth anyway,
choosing what felt closest and suited themselves the best at any given
situation.

He looked straight into his opponent’s gray
eyes and for a moment he thought he saw maliciousness in their depths, but then
the man blinked and there was nothing but indifference in them.

They bumped their fists and for the first
time since forever, it wasn’t Xan who struck the first.

As The Wall threw the punch, instinct
forced Xan to use his left forearm to block it, bringing his right hand down to
his hip. He stepped forward with his left foot at the same time, bending it at
the knee. He struck with his right hand at his opponent’s plexus, leaning into
the strike to gain extra momentum. The guy’s groan was his reward, but he
didn’t budge.

Well shit, Xan thought, he wasn’t slow and
he seemed impenetrable as a fucking wall indeed.

The other man smirked at him and struck
with a right-handed straight punch stepping forward a bit and forcing Xan to
back down, but Xan used a right-handed high parry to block the move. The Wall
struck with a left-handed straight punch for a change and Xan blocked him like
the previous time, still limiting himself to defending rather than attacking,
assessing his rival’s strengths and weaknesses.

The Wall was not interested in waiting but
overpowering him as soon as possible and winning the fight. He struck with a
right one step front snap kick, immediately blocked by Xan with a right-handed
low parry. Xan kept blocking his punches with his forearms, but couldn’t see
any fault in his opponent’s skills.

Enough, he finally decided and stepped
forward with his left foot closing the distance between them, ready for a
throw. He blocked yet another blow, twisting counterclockwise on the ball of
his left foot and placing his right arm behind the guy’s back.

Xan bent his knees slightly, leaning
forward and pulling The Wall onto his back. Before his opponent could react, he
straightened his legs, lifting him off the ground. He took his head down to his
right knee, throwing The Wall off his back and finishing the throw with a
straight punch.

He could have finished the fight with a few
strikes like that and be done with it, he thought. But he wanted to see the
mettle of his rival, so he let him go and was not surprised when the guy came
back swinging at him not more than a second later.

His counterattack was based on a deep front
kick into Xan’s stomach. He had to admit it was a good move on his opponent’s
part because unlike many kicks, the front kick didn’t lose potency at close
range.

Xan lunged in and the kick caught him only
half extended, but he still ended up receiving a jarring impact. The
follow-through managed to drive him backward and the air whooshed out of his
lungs. Before he could grab his leg, The Wall retracted it and struck again,
not giving Xan a chance to catch his breath.

Wanting to prolong the fight was a fucking
mistake, he thought, but now was too late to go back on this plan.

The Wall aimed for Xan’s jaw next with a
hammer fist and Xan understood the guy was going for a knockout.

It wasn’t unexpected but it pissed him off
instantly anyway and Xan saw red.

A jaw was able to move sideways as well as
forward and backward due to nerves attached where it connected with the skull,
just beneath the base of the ear. These nerves sent out signals to the body’s
nervous system making them the perfect target in order to induce an instantaneous
knockout when struck properly.

He would be damned if he allowed that to
happen, especially on his own territory, Xan thought savagely.

He couldn’t quite avoid the punch, but at
the same he struck with his right palm heel at his attacker’s right shoulder.
He pulled it down, placing his left hand under The Wall’s right arm. He twisted
clockwise on the ball of his left foot, taking his right to the side so he was
standing sideways to the guy.

Xan put his left hand on top of his right
one next until his rival’s arm was resting on his left shoulder. It ensured him
a stable position and he saw no reason not to use it, so he struck with his
knee and blood spurted from The Wall’s nose.

It should have satisfied him, but the
self-control he tried to work so hard on was a foreign concept to him at the
moment so he used the advantage he had positioning himself at his opponent’s
back.

He wrapped one arm around The Wall’s neck,
with his forearm pushing against one side of the neck and his bicep against the
other. Xan’s other arm pushed against the back of his rival’s head.

The rear naked choke was often called the
blood choke because it was one of those that impeded blood flow from the heart
to the brain. A properly executed choke first caused compression of the jugular
vein, significantly hindering blood return from the brain to the heart. The
recipient began to feel flushed and swollen in the face and brow. Further
pressure narrowed the carotid and reduced the blood flow to the brain.

It was a deadly trap and Xan knew it well
himself because it was one of his father’s favorite ways of grabbing him while
he was explaining to his stunned and vulnerable son how easy it would be to end
his miserable life right there and right then.

The memory made him hiss out a breath and
he locked his feet against the other male’s flanks, expanding his chest until
The Wall started to tap out letting him know he had enough and was ready to
give up and cave in.

But Xan
wasn’t
ready to let go and
at this point it was no longer important whether he held more onto the rival
left at his mercy or the vicious memory from his childhood filled with
violence.

He looked down at his hands and saw his
father’s instead and that sobered him up more than anything.

He let go before the man could pass out… or
die.

The astounded silence that fell over the
crowd told him that he wasn’t the only one who was worried about the final
outcome of the grip. But then the audience started to roar and chant his name
and it was business as usual.

He had enough.

Xan stepped out from the man and out of the
ring heading toward his room heedless of being proclaimed a winner even though
he cared about nothing more than that.

But winning had its price, just like
everything else. His body ached in this abstract way as if the brain didn’t
connect all the dots, not recognizing it as his own pain yet. His stomach felt
raw and unsteady.

He
felt
raw and unsteady and he knew
soon he would start to feel the aftereffects of the fight. All he wanted was a
hot shower and to be left alone for an hour, or better yet for the remaining time
of the night.
“Fuck that. I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered angrily to himself, trying
to cover up the fact he was shaken by his lack of self-control tonight.