Lachlan
I went back inside and followed. I followed him into a room where I heard a familiar voice. It was Samson and Delilah talking to that man. One of the men that was there that night. One of the men that kidnapped and drugged Ria. I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart racing as I took in the scene before me. Samson was leaning against a desk, arms crossed, a cold expression on his face. Delilah stood across from him, her back rigid, her eyes narrowed. But it wasn't them who made my stomach drop.
It was the man standing in front of them.
The same man. The one who had been at Baron Sterling Project. The one who'd helped drag Ria to that filthy place. The one who had smiled like this was all just a game. The one who had helped destroy who knows how many lives.
I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. I thought I'd confront them — Samson, Delilah, maybe even the man — and get answers. But seeing Delilah like this, speaking in hushed tones, I felt a chill run through me.
"You should've told me you were bringing him in," Delilah was saying, her voice too calm, too controlled. "You know this type of guy unsettles me."
"You know you're safe with me," Samson replied, his tone clipped. "Besides, we need men like this to do our dirty work."
The man shifted slightly, and I could see his face more clearly now. There was no mistaking him. He had been there that night. The one who had looked at Ria like she was nothing more than a few bucks. I could feel the anger rising in my chest, but I stayed still, barely breathing, trying to stay out of their line of sight.
"I don't know about this," Delilah said, her voice softer now, more thoughtful. "This feels… too easy. I don't trust him."
Samson scoffed, shaking his head. "You worry too much. He knows what we want. He's not here to make things difficult."
But I could see it — the hesitation in Delilah's eyes, the way she shifted her weight, the unease that seemed to grow with every word spoken. She knows, I thought. She knows something I don't.
The man—his name escaped me—smirked. "You'll get what you want, don't worry. I'm not in the business of disappointing you two."
There it was. That sick, casual tone. Like this was all just another transaction to them. Ria's pain, my confusion, the fear we'd all felt that night — none of it meant anything to him.
I had to do something. Anything. But every instinct told me to wait, to listen, to find out just what the hell was going on.
"Why don't we just cut to the chase?" the man said, standing up, his voice suddenly sharp. "You didn't bring me here just to talk. What do you need from me, you see this arm, I paid the price already."
Samson gave a slow, disappointed smile, and I felt my pulse quicken. "You owe us another girl. My employers want to indulge themselves"
A silence followed, thick and heavy, and it was clear that something was about to shift. I couldn't believe that Delilah knew what was happening, she knew and let it all happen. I realized then that she had always been like this. Manipulating and trampling over others to get ahead. I was always just her project, some guy from the stacks that made herself feel better.
I could feel the anger rising in the pit of my stomach as Samson's glare bore down on me. The other man was silent, observing with that cold, detached look that made my blood run cold. Delilah stood by the door, her arms crossed, her face unreadable, as if she wasn't even part of the equation anymore. I was the only one who seemed to care about what was about to happen.
I had no illusions left. Whatever they were planning, whatever they were hiding, I was in the middle of it. And Samson's heavy presence, towering over me, was a clear signal that any attempt to get answers or change anything was a lost cause.
The moment I lunged at him, trying to catch him off guard, my instincts screamed at me to stop. But it was too late. Samson's fist shot out faster than I could react, connecting with my jaw with a sickening crack. The force sent me stumbling back, my legs unsteady as I tried to stay on my feet. My vision swirled, stars exploding in my eyes, and for a moment, I thought I might collapse right then and there.
But I didn't.
I refused to fall.
I managed to steady myself, bringing my hands up in defense. Samson didn't even give me the satisfaction of a fight. His next punch landed square in my ribs, and I could hear something break, feel the sharp pain shoot through my side like a lightning bolt. The air left my lungs in a strangled gasp, and for a second, all I could do was clutch my chest, trying to force breath into my body.
"You're pathetic," Samson sneered, his voice a low growl, dripping with contempt. "Did you really think you had a shot? I am God's chosen champion, you are a dog beneath my feet."
I couldn't answer. I couldn't even think. All I could focus on was the crushing weight of the next blow as his fist crashed into my face, knocking me backward into the hard concrete floor. My head slammed down with a sickening thud, the ringing in my ears drowning out everything else. Blood trickled from my lip, staining my teeth, as I tried to lift myself up.
But Samson wasn't done. He moved like a predator, fast and brutal. His foot came down on my stomach, and I cried out in pain as the air was knocked from my lungs again, my body curling in on itself like a broken ragdoll. I could taste the copper in my mouth, feel it running down my throat as he kicked me harder, over and over.
I tried to get up, tried to fight back, but my limbs were lead, my body failing me at every turn. I barely had time to register his hands grabbing my head, a vicious knee to my face that sent my head snapping back violently. I heard the sickening crack of my skull against the cold wall, my vision flickering in and out as I struggled to keep consciousness.
Samson's shadow loomed over me as I tried to push myself up, but he was already there. He grabbed my hair, yanking me up to my knees with a savage twist, the pain burning like fire in my scalp. His fist came down again, and I could feel my nose break under the force. Blood poured freely from my nostrils, warm and sticky, but it was nothing compared to the agony that gripped my skull.
"You really are pitiful," he spat, his voice dripping with disgust. "I've seen more fight in a dead man."
Delilah's voice came then, but it was distant, like she wasn't even part of this moment. Her tone was cool, detached, almost like she was speaking about someone else entirely.
"Samson, he's done. Let him go."
I couldn't even process her words. My body was a map of bruises, cuts, and broken bones, and all I could think of was how much it hurt to even breathe. My arms were heavy, like they didn't belong to me anymore. My legs felt like lead, dragging behind me with every limp attempt to move. I didn't even have the strength to look at her, didn't have the willpower to care.
With a final, sickening shove, Samson dropped me back to the floor like I was nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. My vision blurred as my head spun violently, and everything around me grew hazy, like I was drifting away from my own body.
"You're weak," Samson muttered, turning away. "Always will be."
The last thing I remembered was the sound of Delilah's voice, cutting through the fog in my mind like a blade.
"Pitiful."
The word echoed in my ears, louder than any blow Samson had landed. It reverberated through my skull, sinking deep into my chest. Pitiful. The word felt like a death sentence, suffocating me, crushing me beneath its weight.
When I came to, it was slow, disorienting. My eyes fluttered open, and the world around me was blurry, the edges of everything fading into a hazy fog. I tried to lift my head, but the sharp pain in my skull stopped me instantly. The hospital room around me was sterile, too bright, the antiseptic smell clinging to the air like a heavy fog.
A soft beeping sound filled the silence, the rhythm of the heart monitor steady but strangely foreign in the stillness. I blinked and thought about what had happened the previous night. The door opened and there stood my mom, crying as she rushed to hug me.
"I'm not going to ask any questions." She said through her tears. "Your dad knows you're here. He won't visit, He says this is the result of your choices, and to face them."
I just held my mom tightly and contemplated what my dads words meant.
"How long was out for?" I asked.
"It's been two weeks." Mom replied.
"I'm sorry." I said looking down.
"It's fine." She responded by wiping her tears. " I knew what I was getting into when I married your dad."
"What does that mean?" I questioned.
"Oh, he'll tell you when he's ready. I have to go to work, now that you're awake ill give you some space, call me if you need anything. Let me know when the doctor is going to release you." She said with a half smile.
"Will do." I responded.
A few days later
"You really have a knack for trouble huh." A voice said from above me.
"What?" I said groggily, As I opened my eyes. "Chiron! How long have you been here?"
"Only a few minutes." He said motioning to the chair against the wall. "Ria's been here for a few hours though."
"I see, she's a friend I don't deserve."
Chiron snorted. "If you say so, Doctor says you're getting out today, although he's confused how you're healing so fast."
"My mom always said I was a fast healer." I said with a slight chuckle. "Will you wake up Ria?"
"Yeah," Chiron responded as he nudged her and her eyes opened. "I'll give you guys some privacy."
"Lachlan!" Ria practically yelled as she hugged me "I was so worried."
"It's good to see you. Thank you for watching over me." I said as she pulled away.
"How do you feel, I heard you were pretty messed up." She said with a sad face.
"Meh, I've felt better but I've also felt worse, I'm itching to move." I said with a smile.
"It's good to know you're still you." She said smiling "I hope you'll let me help you recover."
"Of course."
two months later
The smell of sweat and rubber clung to the air, mingling with the sharp scent of disinfectant as the sound of gloves hitting pads echoed through the gym. The heavy thud of feet against the mat, the sharp grunts, the shuffling of movement — it all seemed to blend together into a rhythm that I was too deep in to escape.
I stood across from my opponent, a bulky guy with dark tattoos lining his arms, his breathing slow but controlled. He was tall, a few inches over me, but I didn't care about that. I had been in enough fights to know that height didn't mean a damn thing if you could take the right shots, and I'd learned how to make my size work for me. The cage was a place where I felt alive, like I had control over something in my chaotic world.
Chiron's voice came at me like a whip crack from the side of the ring. He was always loud, commanding, like a general barking orders from the front line.
"Stay light on your feet, Lachlan! Don't stand flat-footed!" His voice was relentless, like a current pushing me forward. "Move, move!"
I nodded, though I wasn't sure he could see me. My hands were up, my posture low. I bounced on the balls of my feet, ready to react. I knew Chiron wanted me to be fluid, to work the angles, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins made everything feel tighter, more intense. I couldn't focus on anything else, couldn't even hear the thudding of my heartbeat in my chest over the noise around me.
I feinted a jab to the guy's face, trying to get him to bite. He reacted, shifting his weight to block, and I quickly followed up with a body kick, the sound of my shin connecting with his ribs sharp and satisfying. He grunted, stepping back, clearly winded, but he wasn't out.
"Nice!" Chiron shouted, though his voice was tinged with frustration. "But don't give him time to recover! Go again!"
I knew what he meant. I couldn't give my opponent a moment to regain control. I had to keep the pressure up, keep pushing. But as I shifted my weight, trying to cut him off, I felt something — a slight shift in the air, a sense of watching eyes. It pulled my attention momentarily toward the edge of the cage, where I knew someone was standing.
Ria.
She was leaning against the side of the ring, arms crossed, watching me with those piercing eyes of hers. Her face was set, unreadable, but I saw the way her gaze followed every movement, every swing. I hadn't expected her to show up today — hell, I wasn't sure I wanted her to — but there she was. And for a brief moment, it was like everything else fell away. Like I was fighting for something more.
She was watching me, and I couldn't let that break me.
The guy in front of me took advantage of my hesitation, lunging forward with a jab that clipped me in the cheek. The impact rattled my teeth, and I saw stars for a split second before regaining my focus.
"Stay focused!" Chiron bellowed from the corner, snapping me out of my daze. "Don't let him dictate the pace!"
I gritted my teeth and adjusted, letting my feet carry me around, staying light on my toes as I reset. I was faster than him — I had to be. I had more speed, more control. And I was determined to prove it.
I closed the distance quickly, circling to his right, and then I planted my left leg and threw a sharp right hook. He ducked under it, but I anticipated the move. I immediately dropped my level, twisting into a takedown attempt, wrapping around his waist with a tight grip.
"Good! Good!" Chiron's voice rang in my ears, encouraging me as I forced him to the ground. My opponent struggled, but I had the dominant position now, trying to secure a side control to lock him in.
My breathing came harder now, sweat pouring from my brow, dripping down into my eyes, but I didn't care. My mind was clear, focused, all except for the way Ria's figure loomed in my periphery. I couldn't help but glance at her again as she stood motionless, arms still crossed, her eyes unwavering.
For the briefest moment, I felt a spark of doubt — What did she think of me? Would did she see in me? But I pushed it down, focusing on the here and now.
I adjusted my position, securing the hold tighter. He struggled beneath me, but I kept him pinned, my forearm across his throat to keep the pressure on, not giving him an inch.
"Control him, Lachlan!" Chiron shouted, practically shaking the cage with his intensity. "Don't just fight — dominate!"
With a growl, I tightened my grip, digging my knee into his side as I worked for the submission. He gurgled in frustration, but I wasn't letting up. Not now.
I finally locked it in. The tap came quick — rapid, frantic. My opponent was done.
The buzzer went off, signaling the end of the round, and I released him, rolling off and rising to my feet, breathing heavily. My chest heaved, the exhaustion setting in, but a small smile crept onto my face as I looked toward the cage wall. Chiron was shouting, giving me his usual list of things I could've done better, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
Ria's gaze was still locked on me, her expression unreadable, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes. A recognition, maybe. Or was it just my imagination?
She gave a small nod, and flashed me a smile as she turned to walk toward her mom who had just arrived.
Chiron broke my gaze with his words, "Kid, pay attention."
"I am, what's with this kid shit I'm nineteen." I argued back.
Chiron ignored me, "I'm going to enter you into some amateur fights."
"Bout time," I said back.
"You've only been at a hundred percent for about half a month, but your condition is better that it was. You're ready." Chiron boldly said to me with a smile. "You'll also be moving into the gym, I've renovated a room for you."
"Oh, okay I guess. I need to tell my parents." I looked at the ground dreading the conversation.
"I already talked to your mom, she is happy for you, she hopes you succeed and prays for your safety." Chiron said while putting his hand on my shoulder.
I smiled, while it's not full support from my parents, at least I have one.. I thought about Ria though, the look she had seemed to be more than just admiration or encouragement. I feel that it could be something more, but not today. Today I prepare myself for what's to come.