Chapter: 10 'Inamorata in Distress'

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Chapter: 10 'Inamorata in Distress'



(Daryl's POV)



My opponent didn't stand a chance as my fist connected with his face. The man, a known local fighter, retaliated by jabbing his left fist into my abdomen. That only fueled my raging anger. The poor fellow must not know my reputation in the ring.


The more hits I receive, the better I fight; it's like trying to drown a shark. The only thing it'll accomplish is pissing me off. Outside of the professional lucrative business world, I'm a skilled fighter. It's a requirement for the people I surround myself.


It's also my pastime to releasing the stress of running a multi-million-dollar company. I continue my brutal assault on the man, feeding him my fists. The roar of the small crowd layering the ring is suffocated by the sound of me repeatedly striking him.


I coldly unleash my demons, expressing the pain, disappoint, deceit, and loss I've experienced throughout my 32 years of life. My opponent collapses and I soon feel the referee pulling me from him.


I mentally scold myself for losing my calm posture. I'm embarrassed for showing my true wicked nature and lack of control. I watch as the man struggles to stand and heads to his coach's corner.


"¡No me importa! Va a seguir luchando hasta que se diga lo contrario!" I hear his coach yell in Spanish. His mentor, a short black-haired mob boss dressed in a silver suit, pushes him into the center of the ring, threatening to fight or die.


I almost feel sorry for the man - almost. Just like me, he got himself involved with the underground killers. He and I must face the music at some point. In my opponent's case, he's facing his tonight.


My stomach wrenches at the sight of his bruised face in the poor-lit arena. Blood lines his mouth-guard and his right eye is swollen beyond belief. I can't fathom I inflicted so much pain onto another human.

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