Chapter 126: Blood Sport
The moment the metal doors groaned open- thick metallic smell clung to the air like a living thing.
Blood. Sweat. Heat.
It wrapped around Julian’s throat and settled heavy in his lungs as he stepped inside, his gaze sharpening instinctively.
The underground ring stretched wide beneath harsh overhead lights, the glow cutting through a haze of dust and rising steam. Men crowded around it in a rough circle, their voices loud, hungry, almost feral. Money exchanged hands in quick, practiced movements. Bets. Anticipation. Violence waiting to happen.
Julian’s boots echoed faintly against the concrete floor as he walked beside Rowan, his eyes analyzing everything and everyone he could see, expression straight.
A body slammed hard against the ropes.
Julian’s eyes snapped toward the ring.
Two men were locked in a brutal exchange, fists colliding with flesh in sickening rhythm. One drove his elbow into the other’s jaw with a crack that cut through the noise, snapping the man’s head sideways before following with a knee straight into his ribs. The impact forced a strangled groan from his opponent, but there was no pause, no mercy. Another punch. Another. Blood sprayed from a split lip, scattering across the canvas like paint.
The crowd roared.
“Break him!”
“Kill him!”
“End it!”
The man already on the losing side staggered, barely upright, his face swollen beyond recognition, one eye nearly shut. But the other fighter didn’t stop. He grabbed him by the collar and drove his fist into his face again. And again.
Julian watched, barely blinking.
He didn’t recoil or feel disgusted. Had he been used to this kind of life before? He thought silently as he studied them.
Rowan glanced sideways at him, catching the stillness in his gaze, then smirked. “You used to beat their asses” he said, nodding toward the ring as the battered man finally dropped, unmoving. “Wanna try?”
Julian didn’t answer immediately.
His fingers curled slightly at his sides as his eyes lingered on the fallen body being dragged out like discarded waste. He didn’t remember this place. Didn’t remember stepping into that ring. Didn’t remember winning.
But danger felt familiar to him.
He had been inside this building for the past two weeks. No phone.
He’s been training, eating, and breathing under watchful eyes. Strength returning to his limbs, his body recovering faster than expected from the transfusion he’d been told about.
They told him about the disorder. Told him he had needed blood. That someone had donated.
They never told him who.
And beneath all of that… there was an emptiness. A hollow space that nothing seemed to fill. Not even the rigorous trainings did.
It sat there, constantly pressing against his chest. He needed noise.
He needed something to drown it.
“I can try,” Julian said finally, his voice low.
Rowan’s smirk widened. “That’s the Jay I knew.” He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping. “Don’t stop until your opponent is dead.”
Julian’s jaw tightened briefly at that. Dead?
He stepped forward anyway.
The crowd shifted as he climbed into the ring, their voices rising in curiosity.
“Place your bets!”
Julian’s gaze swept across the faces around him, taking them in one by one like he was strange to the idea of people.
His opponent stepped forward. A bald giant.
Half his face is inked in jagged black patterns that twisted down his neck. His shoulders were broad, his frame heavy with muscle, his presence alone enough to silence a weaker man.
“Stoney!” someone shouted.
Cheers followed.
“Stone’s taking this.”
“Sure he’s.”
Julian remained still, dressed simply in a black singlet and joggers, his body lean but defined, his breathing steady. He’s been slowly gaining his weight back during the past few days. He had lost a lot of it when he was sick. Before the President took him from prison.
The whistle pierced through the noise.
Stone moved first- too fast for someone his size.
His fist came crashing toward Julian’s face with brutal force.
Julian barely raised his arm in time.
The impact sent a sharp jolt through him, his body staggering half a step back as pain flared along his forearm.
Another hit followed immediately.
Then another.
Stone drove forward relentlessly, each strike heavier than the last. A punch to his ribs forced the air out of Julian’s lungs, his body folding slightly before a sharp blow caught his jaw, snapping his head to the side.
The crowd erupted.
“Finish him!”
Julian tasted blood. Warm and metallic.
His vision blurred for half a second before snapping back into focus.
Stone advanced again, confident now, his grin wide and vicious.
Julian took another hit.
And another.
His body reacted slower at first, still adjusting and studying how to take his opponent.
So when Stone swung again, Julian moved by instinct.
He ducked low, the punch slicing through empty air, and in the same motion, he swept his leg out, hooking behind Stone’s ankle.
The man crashed down hard, the impact shaking the ring.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Stone growled, rolling and pushing himself back up almost instantly.
But this time—Julian didn’t wait.
His body flowed with a precision he didn’t understand. He stepped in, twisted sharply, his elbow driving toward Stone’s shoulder before pivoting, his leg snapping out to strike behind his knee again.
Stone stumbled.
Julian followed without relenting.
He jumped, his body twisting mid-air, landing behind him and driving him toward the ropes with controlled force.
Stone staggered back, then roared, charging forward with all his weight.
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
That was when he saw it. Stone was lunging towards him with a small knife held tightly in his hand.
Julian reacted instantly.
He caught the man’s wrist mid-motion, twisting it sharply until the blade slipped loose. In one fluid movement, he seized it, drove it forward, and buried it into Stone’s side.
A gasp tore through the crowd.
Stone’s body jerked violently, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as Julian used the moment to flip him hard onto the canvas.
The ring trembled.
Stone hit the ground and didn’t rise.
Blood spread beneath him as silence fell
Julian stood over him, steadying his harsh breathing as he discarded the knife.
“I wouldn’t have done that,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through the stillness, “if he hadn’t tried to stab me first.”
Then his gaze shifted to the men outside the ring.
“Stop the bleeding,” he added. “Or he dies.”
The silence broke and voices erupted again, louder this time with admiration and respect for Julian.
Julian stepped out of the ring, wiping the sweat from his face.
Rowan met him immediately, clapping a firm hand against his shoulder. “You’re a menace,” he said with a grin. “You’ve aways been like that, Jay.”
Julian didn’t respond.
He walked past him.
Something didn’t feel right.
—
Hot water ran down his body, washing away blood that wasn’t entirely his.
Julian stood under the stream longer than necessary, his head lowered, his hands braced against the tiled wall.
He replayed the fight session from earlier in his head.
He stepped out eventually, drying off before facing the mirror.
His reflection stared back at him. Looking all sharp and dangerous.
Beneath the look— was emptiness.
The President’s words echoed in his mind.
“Your wife betrayed you. She poisoned you. She sent you to prison.”
His jaw tightened.
Who was she?
And why did the thought of her leave a strange pressure in his chest?
The sound of a knock pulled his attention away from his pressing thoughts.
Julian grabbed a towel, tying it around his waist as he walked toward the door.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Rowan.”
Julian opened it.
Rowan stood there, a knowing smile on his face.
“I figured you might need something sweet to help you relax tonight,” he said casually.
Then he stepped aside. A woman standing behind him was revealed.
Dressed in a sheer red outfit that clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination. Her lips curved slowly as her eyes settled on Julian, bold and inviting.
She stepped forward slightly.
“I’ll make your night the best you’ve ever had, Jay,” she said softly.
Julian didn’t respond as he studied her closely.