Page 1 of Far from Destined

Chapter 1

Macon

I duckedthe punch to the face, then came out swinging, my fist connecting with the jaw of the man in front of me. He let out a grunt, stumbling back. I hit again, and again, jabbing, going for his ribs. I threw a cross, an uppercut, continued moving until I was pulled away, my hands lifted in the air, and announced the winner.

Sweat slicked my body, and I heaved out a breath, running my hand over the pebbled scar on my chest—the memory that would never fade, the flesh that would never fully heal.

Anyone who understood scars knew where the marred flesh had come from, and if they didn’t know me, they likely figured I was some kind of badass to have it. They thought it was a scar of pride, not one of fear.

Those that knew me understood I never wanted to remember that pain, never wanted to remember bleeding out and begging for help.

I never begged. I never asked for help.

Only as I lay there dying, wondering what would happen when I closed my eyes for the final time, not seeing my life flash before my eyes as others promised, I knew I’d run out of time.

I hadn’t been strong. I had been weak.

I was weak no longer.

As my trainer put his arm around my shoulders, I knew I would come back to the ring and trounce anybody I could. I would win as many times as I could to prove that I wasn’t weak.

It didn’t matter that the people here didn’t know me. It didn’t matter that these were sanctioned fights and I wasn’t in some underground shit that would end up hurting me in the end. I knew that what I was doing was dangerous.

And I didn’t give a fuck.

I was just so goddamn tired.

Every cut on my wrist, every bruise on my jaw told me that I was here.

That no matter what happened, I would still be here.

That the scar on my chest wasn’t the only thing that mattered when it came to who I was.

“Doing a good job, Brady.”

I nodded, pushing my hair from my eyes. “Thanks,” I said, spitting into the bucket next to me as I pulled out my mouthguard. No blood this time, so I counted that as a win.

“You still up for just boxing? Or, we could start training in mixed martial arts.”

I shook my head. “Don’t think I’m that flexible.” I laughed, while one of the ring girls raked her gaze over my body before meeting my eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re quite flexible,” she purred, winking before sauntering off.

“I’d like a piece of that,” Bob said, and I shook my head.

“She’s married,” I replied with a laugh, wiping my face with a towel.

“So? Didn’t stop her from giving you a look like she wanted to go down on her knees in front of you.”

“True, but that’s just for show. Her husband could kick my ass.”

“You’ve met the guy?” Bob asked as we made our way back to the training room so I could shower before heading home.

“Yes, and he could kick all our asses.”

It was a lie for her benefit. Her husband was an IT guy who worshiped the ground she walked on. I only knew that because I had walked her to her car once to make sure she was safe in the dark, somethingIwasn’t even comfortable with these days—not that I told anybody that.

Her husband had been late showing up to make sure she got to her car safely and skidded into the parking lot right when I was there.