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Chapter 19

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

RUST

I stand backstage before the press conference in the corner, thinking about yesterday. Marquis and my manager linger nearby but don't speak to me. They can sense my dark mood. Marquis should be happy. At yesterday evening's training, after the new joy at the baby news, then the darkness after, I went hard. I sparred hard like I had a death wish. For the first time since camp started, I did well, but only by harnessing the goddamn agony.

These bizarre videos have poisoned my woman's mind. She's even more na?ve than I thought, even more inexperienced. Does it make me even guiltier? But even with that, I would've stayed with her and held her, even with her brother next door. I hid like a rat .

The backstage gets less busy as they announce the other fighters. There are small cheers from the crowd, but people erupt when they say my name. People love the stone-faced, don't-give-a-damn Rust Hadley. They don't know that it's a fa?ade now. I'll never be dead inside again, not after the baby news.

I left the mother of my child to cry alone because she yelled at me. I'm supposed to be the man of the house. The provider. The leader.

Cain Cruz, as the reigning champion, is announced last. He gets a fair amount of attention from the crowd, too, but not as loud as me. He grins over and talks into the mic. "Nice to see you, No Rust. A real pleasure and congratulations."

For a crazy second, I wonder if he knows about the baby somehow. Maybe, after I left, Mary was pissed and called the media, but she'd never do that. What am I even thinking?

When I say nothing, he continues, "You've got the chance to fight the biggest draw in all combat sports."

"Your last pay-per-view was the worst ranked of the year," I tell him.

The crowd cheers and claps like I said this to "burn" him, but it's true.

"Look at you, eh? Still a sore loser after all these years?"

I don't react. I never respond to these things. I don't care what the other fighter says. I do my talking in the cage. Don't get me wrong. I'll make comments like I just did, but I cut off once I can tell they're trying to drag me into a back-and-forth. It's easy for me. I make myself cold.

I don't even care about the arena packed with a thousand people and celebrities I recognize in the front row. Mary and Brad are standing with Marquis. Mary's wearing a hot-as-fuck plaid skirt that cuts off just above her knees and tights made for unwrapping. She raises her hands and offers a small wave. Brad grins. They look awkward around each other, no surprise after yesterday, but they're still family. The only person who could change that is me.

Mary glows with the pregnancy. My baby. My purpose.

The press conference goes on, the media asking run-of-the-mill questions, until Maddie goddamn Maddox appears in the spotlight, mic in hand. A gasp goes through the arena. Several people start to jeer and boo, and she eats it up, doing a curtsey and grinning.

"Uh, yeah, my question is for Rust."

"What moron allowed this?" I growl, looking at my manager. She's shrugging. She doesn't know, apparently. "You get her in here, Cain?"

"She's just one of my surprises, my friend," Cain sneers.

"Theatrical prick."

The crowd erupts at that, everybody clapping and hollering. Maddie clears her throat into the mic, and more people jeer. Finally, she's able to speak. "My question is, why did you leave me?"

Mary flinches in the crowd, a ripple moving through her, but not like yesterday, not when I was owning her perfect throat, and ripples of pleasure were moving through her body. Or the way she trembled when I cheered and swept her around the room.

"I never saw you before the other night," I say matter-of-factly.

"We were in love ," Maddie whines.

I scan the edge of the crowd, finding exactly what I was expecting. Another woman in a bright dress is holding a small camera, not the type the company uses, aiming it at Maddie, not the stage.

"This is all for your blog. Well done for getting in here, Maddie. I'm sure it'll do wonders for your social media career."

"This isn't about?—"

"Next fucking question," I snap, hating the idea of even talking to this liar. It's disrespectful to Mary, to the mother of my unborn child, to have this discussion. To even put the thought into her head that there could ever be anybody else. It's just wrong.

A member of the crew appears, taking the mic from Maddie.

"Look, ladies and gents, No Rust is a human after all. Don't think I've ever seen you that riled, kid."

I grind my teeth, saying nothing. That's because I've never fucked my best friend's sister, got her pregnant, and learned she's been twisting her mind for years with videos from her mentally ill mother. I always assumed she knew, on some level, that her mom had had problems. Or that Brad had told her. It wasn't right, me being there for that moment, hiding like a goddamn coward. I almost lean into the mic and tell Brad right now.

Only the sight of Mary, a smile on her lips, looking up, stops me. She looks proud. I feel the rift between us healing, just in a look. I have no frame of reference or way to know if that's normal with other women, but I highly doubt it. I feel uniquely fused to her.

"I'm shocked you don't want to get back at me for that, No Rust," Cain says. "Or maybe you know I'm gonna ragdoll you like the limp-dick motherfucker you are."

"You beat me by decision," I tell him. "I'm going to choke you out, knock you out, or break your fucking arm."

The audience erupts. Mary smiles even wider. For the first time since I can remember, a thrill of something moves through me. I feel proud because my Mary is, and I sit up straighter, letting emotion into my voice, just like that night, the call with Dad.

"I'd happily do it now, but we both know the security would get involved. With no police and no security, I'd shatter your bones and leave you unconscious and half dead. I survived three rounds with you. You won't survive five with me. You'll be lucky to survive one."

I thought the audience erupted before, but now it's mayhem. People are cheering and clapping, but all I feel is this new power and fierceness. I wonder where it comes from. Then it hits me harder and with fiercer intent than a punch ever could. It comes from the fact Mary is carrying my child. I'm going to be a father. It's a new protective instinct. The mother of my child. My child.

"Yeah, yeah," Cain says lamely, and then the press conference continues, the regular bland questions. I spend the time trying not to drink Mary in with my eyes, but it's so difficult, especially when we share a quick look.

She looks away, smiling as if she can't help it, knowing we can't stare at each other for too long. Brad grins beside her, thinking I'm looking at both of them, I bet. He has no idea the savage thoughts barreling through my mind.

"I see you looking over at your friend there," Cain says later, toward the end of the conference. I look at him coldly, that big grin on his face, handlebar mustache freshly trimmed. He's wearing a cowboy hat, tilted back. "The only friends you ever had, ain't that right, Rust? Bradley and Mary Allen."

Hearing him use their names almost sends me out of the seat, sprinting past the podium and the security. I've never fought with emotion guiding me, but after last night's training, when this new fire made me brutal, I'm confident I'll tear him to pieces. It'll be his punishment for daring to talk about my lady. She belongs to me, not him, nobody else.

"Little Mary made quite the stir yesterday, didn't she?" he goes on because the prick can probably see he's getting to me. "But at least her knight in shining armor was there to save her."

Right on cue, two people walk to the front of the stage and hold up giant placards. Security rushes toward them, but not before Mary sees, gasps, and puts her hands over her mouth. Cruz is laughing and chanting into the mic. "Lovers, eh? Lovers! Lovers!" He's trying to get a chant started, but nobody joins in. It falls flat, but not for Mary.

When his hired goons drop the placards, they fall to the floor, one landing facing us and the stage. It's a blown-up photo from yesterday when Mary threw herself at the swarm of people. It was the moment I had my arms around her, the first time that day. Cruz has painted hearts all around a freeze-frame of me holding her. We're looking at each other, and hell, it's not like I've got much experience, but we look in love.

Brad is laughing, shaking his head. He raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, Nice try, right? I try to smirk, but it hurts to pretend. Cruz doesn't know. It's just another stupid stunt, but this hurts more than anything he could do to me in the fight.

"Does Brad know you're cheating on him with his baby sister, huh?" Cain cackles into the mic.

I'm not sure what happens. It's like when I was a kid, before I found martial arts, hitting the wall until my fist bled. I black out. When I wake up, I'm so filled with rage, with the urge to keep them safe—my woman, my baby. I'll never let assholes like this speak their name. I dodge past the security and get my hands on Cain, hauling him off his feet, almost throwing him off the damn stage before security is all over us.

"You're a dead man," I roar as the audience screams and yells. "A fucking dead man!"

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