Chapter 4 - Cherie

My heart feels like a barbed wire has strangled it to the point of being unable to breathe. It’s the night of the fight and it feels like it will be my last night alive.

I still don’t understand who okayed this fight because it doesn’t make sense at all. I am 5'6 and weigh 145 pounds while Creed is 6’4 and 240 pounds of raw muscle. He’s a fucking heavyweight and by all counts, this fight should be illegal! I’m a pipsqueak compared to him, a featherweight for God’s sake; I am going to die at his hands!

But I couldn’t say a damn thing to my mother because I know she had something to do with this. Not only that, but she forbade me from going to the gym to fight, instead she kept me locked up in our home gym to train.

The director of the fight committee and owner of this gym is Creed’s Delta and known to be heartless when it comes to placing fights. 

But that isn’t even what hurts me the most…it hurts knowing that even if I die, my family will get one million from my death. That’s the most I would be earning from a fight, even while dead, and after I learned that, I knew my parents were getting ready to let me go.

What exactly do I do in this situation? Well, for one I trained harder than I’ve ever fucking trained before because if I am going down, he’s going to know I fought hard to take him with me. 

So here I am in my locker room, binding my fists with my red straps and hoping I don’t die tonight. 

“Hey, sweet cherry,” comes the dry, sarcastic voice of one of the fighters tonight. He’s the same guy who I punched in the locker room not too long ago. “Getting ready to die?”

“Fuck off,” I grumble, feeling on edge because that nickname is actually the goddamn fight title my mother had me sign under. Sweet Cherry; what the actual eff, it sounds more like a stripper name than an MMA fighter. “I’m not dying tonight.”

He laughs at this and does his own straps. “That’s what they all say-”

“That’s what you will say when you’re up against Creed Volkov one day,” an unfamiliar voice with a Southern drawl comes from my right and I turn to see another female fighter standing there. She has her blonde hair braided down her sides and a mean as fuck expression on her face.

“So be careful, you hear? You never know when your name will get tossed up there, especially if it’s a street fight.” My heart has now successfully stopped beating and the guy who was just taunting me decided to disappear at that moment. Did she just say a street fight?

“What do you mean street fight?” I ask and feel myself pale. “This is just a normal MMA match, right? That’s what I was told.”

She narrows her eyes at me and takes a step towards me, that mean look is now gone and replaced with sympathy. “Sweety, no… they changed the rules about an hour ago. This is a street fight now with no time limit except either a knockout or death.”

This information forced the last remaining breath out of my lungs and I take a step back, only to find the cold locker behind me. My mother set me up…she wants me dead. 

I sink to the floor with my head hanging in my hands and try to regain my breathing. This can’t be happening to me, not when I’m so close to leaving with my sisters! My eyes widen as my thoughts go to Marie and Eva…does this mean they’re going to be using them now?!

“This can’t be happening…” I trail off and shake my head. “This can’t be legal!”

The other woman joins me on the floor and pats my arm sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, sugar. I thought you were aware of the changes,” she says while rubbing my back. “Someone must really want a bloody fight tonight.”

Someone - my fucking so-called mother wants me dead. I can’t let her win, no fucking way will I let her win this time!

I take a deep breath and slowly rise to my feet. “I know who, and I am not going to give her the satisfaction of my death.”

The woman looks at me with a raised eyebrow, then she looks around the locker room before handing me something. It seems to be a spritz bottle filled with water and something that smells suspiciously like honey. 

“Hold out your hands,” she says and I do what she asks, only for her to spritz the liquid onto my wrist wraps. “Since this is a street fight now, this can’t be illegal.”

“What exactly is this?” I ask, smelling the sweet scent again. “And why is it illegal in the first place?”

She grins. “It’s saffron extract and if my deductions are correct, then it should help you with your fight,” she says and takes a step back from me. 

I can’t help but narrow my eyes at her. “Who are you and why would you help me?” I ask. Something about her seems familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’m sure I’ve seen her around here, but I can’t remember where. 

“Let’s just say I’m tired of the rigged fights around here,” she says with a grin. “I have nothing against Creed Volkov, but Sage needs to be knocked down a peg.”

With those words, she walks away from me before I can even ask her what she means by that. Who is this woman and what does she have against Sage Volkov?

Those questions are drowned out when I hear entrance music being played and I swallow my pride before walking to the caged octagon. A fucking street fight to the death; my parents will fucking pay for this, I swear.

The crowd is buzzing with anticipation, but as soon as I step into the octagon, I hear laughter and mocking. They’re expecting me to die at Creed’s hands, heck I’m expecting to die at his hands too. 

But there’s one thing about this abused dog - she never knows when to give up even if she’s pinned.

The noise of the crowd immediately stills and I swallow hard when I see the dark figure of Creed approaching the octagon. Even if I wanted to escape, this is it for me now - I either win this by some miracle, or I die.

Dressed in his signature black color, he steps into the ring and the first thing I notice is he’s not even looking at me. His eyes are downcast as he stalks towards me with his fists clenched, along with the referee, and my heart leaps into my throat at the bloodlust on his scent.

Why is there bloodlust on his scent? Is he out here just to murder me? The referee explains everything but I don’t even register the so-called rules because Creed has finally looked at me. 

A cold shiver shoots up my spine when I notice his eyes and I know right there that this must be what they mean by looking Death in the eye. Creed’s are split; two crimson irises are occupying each eye, but it’s like he’s not even seeing me.

The sound of the bell reverberates throughout the arena, setting off a flurry of action when the referee calls for us to bump fists. The second we do, Creed looks at me with a daring smirk, ready to make the first move. He darts towards me in a blind fury, arms outstretched ready to grapple. But since he’s so large, I was ready for him and sidestepped, then tripped him up with a swift kick. 

He goes down with a huff, but then quickly jumps to his feet and terrifies the shit out of me. Okay, using his weight against him won’t work because he’s apparently lithe which makes no sense at all!

Think, Cherie!

Dashing towards him with a fierce jab, I attempted a double collar tie. But Creed, however, was ready and countered the attack with a quick uppercut right in my jaw. The jab momentarily blinds me and he doesn’t let up or allow me to get my bearings. Lunging forward and unleashing a flurry of powerful punches, that momentary daze now seems like a blink.

Because I can’t even get a punch in.

He pins me to the ground and rears back to punch me, but I roll out of the way just in time to fucking feel the punch against the floor reverberating through me. Growling when he sees me scurrying away, he lunches towards me again, but this time I’m ready.

His punches are brutal and he’s quick on his feet, but his movements are predictable.

I parried each blow, my movements swift and precise and matching his. Every kick, I countered and I retaliated with a series of kicks and jabs, forcing Creed to back away. That low growl in his chest when he bounces off the cage should send a shiver of fear through my body, but it does the opposite.

I must be losing it because I laughed in his face.

“You’re going to regret that,” he says in a low timbre and it sends a delicious shiver down my spine. What the fuck, why does his voice turn me on?

/“Use me, Cherie!”/ my wolf, Zhen, calls out to me. /“He’s using his Lycan, it’s only fair that you use me!”/

Lycan? /“Is that why his irises are split?”/ I ask while dodging a punch that scrapes my left side, sending a searing pain through my body and Zhen says yes. Fucking asshole must be taking the ‘no rules’ rule to heart.

But I won’t use Zhen, I can’t use her as a promise I made to myself. I’m the reason we’re in this mess and I will only use her healing powers, never her strength.

Breathing through the pain in my left side, I shoot forward and swing a right hook toward his head. Creed deftly tries to block it and counter with what seems like a left cross, but when my punch lands, I hear the sizzling of skin.

He cries out and ducks the other punch at his face, and I wheel round and spin her right foot into a vicious roundhouse kick. Staggering backward and giving a frustrated growl, he lunges at me. We go back and forth like this; I feel like I’m close to giving up with all the jabs at my sides.

Fuck, these ribs will take forever to heal.

Time is running out, and I know that I had to move fast because the more I block and punch him, the angrier he seems to get. This has to end, I have to pull a rabbit out of a fucking hat, or I’m dead in the next few minutes!

Taking a breath that burns like the pits of Raerin’s rivers, I leap forward, but Creed grabs me around the waist, his grip like iron as he wrenches me off balance and slams me to the ground. 

I scream out in pain as I hit the ground, and I know if I stay down here, that will be it for me. “Zhen…” I call out, breaking my own rule and asking my wolf for help. I have to…for Marie and Eva. I can’t lose here, not to him!

Zhen cries out in elation and offers her strength; I can feel myself rapidly healing and no longer feel the pain in my left side. She presses her advantage when Creed rears back, raining blow after blow until he is pinned to the opposite side of the octagon.

The crowd was silent, holding their collective breaths as Zhen defends and fights for me. I can feel my wrist breaking and being healed simultaneously with every blow I land on Creed, but this seems to be what makes him snap. 

He roars and pushes me away and before I can react, he has his hand wrapped around my throat and forces me to the opposite side of the octagon. I cry out and wait for the referee to call Creed to stop because this is an illegal move even in a street fight.

But nothing fucking happens. 

I attempt to kick out, but it’s like kicking against a brick wall. My eyes become blurry, and through the haze, I see Creed’s eyes start melding into one again. That bloodlust in his scent seems to slip away, and his delicious bergamot and vanilla come to the forefront more potent than before.

The snarl on his face evaporates as we stare at each other, and the grip on my throat loosens. It feels like the temperature seems to drop and I can hear Zhen calling to me, saying the one word I cannot comprehend right now.

Creed stumbles back, his eyes not leaving mine and I take this opportunity to strike. He murmurs something, but I ignore him as I lunge at him, leaping into the air rearing my arm back, and crying out when my closed fist connects with the side of his head. I expected a blowback or at least the anger I saw before.

What I didn’t expect was Creed’s eyes rolling backward in his head as he fell to the floor.