Page 137 of Ruined
I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door.
The underground fighting ring pulsed like a living beast—chaos wrapped in smoke and sweat, every roar of the crowd another heartbeat, loud and relentless. Voices clashed in drunken chants, fists cracked against flesh, and the smell of stale beer tangled with blood in the humid air. None of it mattered.
My gaze locked on him.
Luca.
He stood in the center of the ring, shoulders slumped, his body swaying under the weight of every punch. His face was bloodied, bruised, but he didn’t fight back. He didn’t dodge, didn’t lift his fists. He just stood there andtook it.
Each blow twisted like a knife in my gut. This wasn’t the Luca I knew—the smart-mouthed, unbreakable bastard who refused to lose. This was a man unraveling in real time.
I shoved my way through the crowd, throwing elbows, not caring who cursed or stumbled back. My pulse pounded, louder than the chants, louder than the ring announcer barking into his mic. I barely heard the gasps when I reached the ropes, hauling myself up and stepping into the ring.
A stunned silence rippled through the crowd, shock tempering their bloodlust, but I didn’t care about them. My focus stayed on Luca—crumpled, sagging, and far too still.
The boxer turned to face me, confusion flickering across his face before his eyes narrowed.
I rolled up my sleeves, my heart pounding. The boxer lunged first. I ducked the swing, my fist snapping forward to crash into his jaw. The crowd exploded.
I didn’t stop. Another punch to his ribs had him staggering. I sidestepped his attack, pivoting to deliver an uppercut that sent his head snapping back. Blood splattered onto the mat.
He swung blindly. I dodged, stepping in close, and slammed a final hit into his side. The boxer crumpled like dead weight, collapsing to his knees before rolling onto his back. I stood over him, chest heaving, sweat dripping from my brow. The crowd screamed.
Where is he?
I turned my back on the boxer, my focus snapping to Luca. He was on the mat, his chest barely moving. My stomach dropped, ice spreading through me as I crossed the ring and dropped to my knees beside him.
“Luca,” I whispered.
Blood trickled from his nose, his lip split and swollen.
My hands slid under him, and I pulled him into my arms. He sagged against me, his head resting on my shoulder. I froze, my throat closing tight as I looked down at him.
“Luca, what the hell?”
His fingers twitched against my chest.
I stood, ignoring the boos that followed me through the crowd. Someone tried to grab my arm but I didn’t stop. I shoved my way forward, Luca limp in my arms.
I reached the car and opened the back door, gently laying him down. My hands shook as I buckled him in. I paused, staring at his bruised face, the faint rise and fall of his chest.
“Just hold on.”
The city blurred around me as I drove, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. The only thing that mattered was getting Luca to safety.
THIRTY-THREE
LUCA
Waking up felt like crawling out of quicksand.
Antiseptic and bright lights. Hospital. My head throbbed, the light above harsh against my closed eyes. I shifted, and a sharp pull in my side made me wince. My sluggish brain pieced together how I’d ended up here.
Ethan’s fists. The fighting ring. The hits I hadn’t blocked, the blood in my mouth, and Dominic hovering above me like an angel.
Dominic.
He hadn’t deserved to see me like that. I’d hurt him, and for what? To drown out the screaming in my head? I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d thought pain would silence it, but it hadn’t.