I MESSED IT ALL UP.

Chapter: 2

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LIAM's POV.

I quickly pushed Roman aside and reached for the door handle, but he yanked me back with surprising strength. My back slammed against the wall, and the jolt sent a sharp pain through my spine, but it was nothing compared to the expression on his face.

"And where do you think you're going?" The adrenaline surged through me as I caught sight of his charming smirk and crossed arms, making my legs tremble a bit.

"You see," Roman said, tilting my chin up with his finger and locking eyes with me. "I know you can't say no to me, you can't fight it."

"That's not true," I shot back, shaking off his hand. Instantly, guilt washed over me, but then I remembered what had just happened with Alexis, and that guilt deepened.

"I really need to go." Without another word, I finally opened the door and stepped outside. His low laugh made me want to look back, but I couldn't; I couldn't just abandon Alexis after everything she'd found out.

"What in the moon goddess's name is she doing here? In the men's area!" I muttered to myself, running my fingers through my hair as I scanned the arena, where the crowd was going wild over the wrestlers. I desperately wanted to spot her, but there was no sign of her anywhere.

"Liam!" I turned to see who called my name; it was Spider, one of the fighters. "I've been searching for you all day. Where the hell have you been? And why do you look like you're being hunted?"

Spider fights in The Blood Den, where illegal supernatural matches take place, and we share the same manager. "What's going on? Why were you looking for me?" I shot back, not in the mood to answer his questions.

"Oh, I almost forgot! The manager wants to see you, and it's urgent."

"What for? I already wrapped up my work for the day." I said, trying to brush it off, but he responded.

"I don't know, man. He looked really pissed; you should probably go talk to him before he blows a gasket and wrecks the whole place." Hearing that made me forget all about chasing after Alexis, and I made a beeline for my manager.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I was hit with a thick cloud of cigarette smoke that stung my nose. My eyes adjusted to the low light, landing on a solid guy leaning against the bar.

He was wearing a yellow short-sleeved shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His muscular arms were crossed, showing off some faded scars on his forearms. A half-burnt cigarette hung from his lips as he puffed out a cloud of smoke.

When he looked up, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach drop. There was something about his relaxed stance and the slow smirk forming on his face that screamed trouble. I didn't need anyone to tell me I was in deep trouble.

My throat felt tight as I took a step closer to where he was, each foot feeling like it was stuck in quicksand.

I swallowed hard, but it didn't help calm my shaky voice. "S…S…Spider said you wanted to see me, Manager?" The words stumbled out, quivering as they did.

The Manager leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden desk, each tap sending chills down my spine.

I tried to steady my breathing, but deep down, I knew this was going south.

"You…" he started, pointing his cigarette at me, "You, this ungrateful bastard that I decided to help."

"W…what did I do?" I stammered, my mind racing, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

"Your 80% payment. Where the fuck is it?" he asked, staring right through me.

I was never the one to handle the payments after the show. It wasn't that I didn't want to; it was just how Manager Hama ran things. He has his guys for that, and after he takes his hefty cut—usually 80% of what we make, sometimes even more—he hands us whatever scraps are left. And us? The fighters who do all the hard work? We have no choice but to accept it. In The Blood Den, there are five managers, and Hama is the least brutal; there are others who treat the fighters even worse.

"I don't have access to it…" Before I could finish, Manager Hama lunged at me, landing a quick punch to my cheek. Anger surged through me, and I fought the urge to hit him back. I knew that would mean my end.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Manager Hama."

BAM

He hit me again in the same spot. I wiped the blood away with my other hand.

My jaw tightened as frustration boiled inside me. My fingers twitched, nails dug into my palms, and heat rushed up my neck, my heart racing in my ears.

"Can't you at least let me defend myself?" The words slipped out before I could hold them back, sharp and raw.

The room fell silent. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. My chest heaved, but the look he shot back made my stomach churn.

Maybe I just made it worse.

"How dare you talk to me like that! You pathetic creature. Even your mother, when she was alive, had the decency not to speak to me like this, and…?"

"Don't you dare talk about my dead mother like that!" I shouted, charging at him in anger.

The air was thick with the sounds of fists hitting flesh and desperate screams, mixed with the metallic scent of blood. Manager Hama lay on the floor, and I was right above him, landing blow after blow to his stomach. My vision was clouded with rage, and I couldn't see myself stopping anytime soon. Suddenly, I snapped back to reality and noticed the blood splattered across Hama's clothes, his face already a mess. Panic began to rise within me.

I had to act quickly; I looked at him again, and he seemed so frail, tears streaming down his face. A dark thought crossed my mind—maybe killing him was the only way to save myself—but I quickly pushed that idea away. I didn't want to carry the weight of someone's death on my conscience.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely heard the office door creak open. But as soon as it did, I instinctively tensed and looked up.

And there he was.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart raced.

Of all people… why him?

Shock hit me like a freight train; this was the last person I expected to walk in.

"P…please save me from this murder. D…don't let him go," Manager Hama pleaded weakly, pointing toward the door as soon as he recognized who it was.

"Oh great, I'm definitely done for."