Page 127 of Undisputed Chaos
“He’s crazy in there. Our little puppy’s got fangs, believe me.”
“‘Little puppy’ isn't the name I'd use," Connor muttered.
The girls collectively ignored him.
“You’ll love it,” Sierra smiled. “It’s the best show you’ll ever see.”
I glanced sideways at these women, my true friends, now. Chaos loved company, apparently.
I felt a brief pang, thinking of Tracy and Bailey—how every joke, every night out with them had eventually turned sharp, competitive.
“You’re too much, Isla.”
“Don’t post that, you’ll scare away brands.”
“You should work out more.”
Before their careers imploded, they always made me second-guess myself, but here, with these girls, I felt… accepted.
Not a single piece of me was too boring or soft. There was nothing to hide. The difference was a balm I hadn’t even known I needed.
The lights dimmed suddenly, and my excitement grew as spotlights began to dance across the arena.
A booming voice announced the first fighter, some challenger from the West Coast, whose statistics flashed across the massive screens. The crowd's response was polite but measured.
Then the announcer's voice shifted, growing deeper, more dramatic: "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the undefeated feral hound… ADRIAN THE ‘CATALYST'!"
The arena erupted into a hurricane of sound.Bass-heavy entrance music pounded through the speakers as strobe lights flashed in hypnotic patterns.
And then he appeared.
My Adrian strode toward the ring in nothing but neon green-and-black fight shorts, hugging every muscle, his skin a tapestry of ink and muscle.
If he looked wild by the fire, here he looked mythic, a walking riot, coiled strength and violence, his eyes burning up at our box like I was the only person in the world.
For a second, that goofy grin I woke up to every morning was back, the one he saved for pillow talk, shopping, my family.
Then it vanished, replaced by a stare so cold and focused I barely recognized him.
"Oh my god," I whispered, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Yeah.” Sierra’s giggle was pure empathy. “Wait till he wins a knockout. You’ll get dizzy.”
Jax leaned forward, his eyes tracking Adrian's movement with assessment. "He's locked in tonight. Just don’t forget to breathe.”
I watched Adrian climb into the ring and instinctively took a deep breath like Jax said.
He bounced from foot to foot, rolling his head and shoulders as the coach yelled things.
When he turned toward our box, I instinctively pressed my hand against the glass.
"Can he see us?" I asked, suddenly desperate for connection.
"Yes," all four of them answered in unison.
The bell rang, and everything changed.
Adrian moved like nothing I'd ever seen, pure carnage in motion, feet gliding on the canvas, head rolling, fists snapping out like whips.
