Oath Keepers MC:The Collection(8)

By: Sapphire Knight


I make my way to the cage and take off my shirt. I blink a few times, and suddenly it’s like everything is clearer. I can hear people talking, yelling, and laughing all around me. I see the lights shining down onto the cage’s mat, and I see the old blood splatter still there.

Moe, the half-ass referee, comes and wraps up my hands. He’s an ugly little dude.

“Cain, how’s it, man?” he asks as he wraps my left hand in my red “Caution” tape wraps. Moe secures each hand so no fucks cheat with razors or brass knuckles.

“Just ready to fuck some shit up. You?” I peer down at the smaller man.

I guess he can tell from my tone he better lift his head and show me some fucking respect when he speaks to me. Moe is one person who has seen me mess up countless fools, up close and personal. This more than likely won’t be the last fight at which he wraps my hands, either.

“Fine, have a good fight.” He looks me in the eyes as he answers then nods and walks to my opponent.

He gains a miniscule amount of my respect by looking me in my eyes when he answered. There are quite a few men who won’t even look at my face when they talk to me here. It makes me want to punch them. I hate weak men.

A few minutes later, there’s a loud, shrill whistle. Looks like it’s show time.

“Tonight our brawlers are Cain and Smoke. Bikers, fuck some shit up so we can win some motherfucking money!”

The crowd starts screaming, and I gauge my opponent. He’s about my size, same height but blown up. I bet he’s juiced up on some steroids. He reminds me of a fucking gorilla, big ol’ arms. His head’s shaved, and he has a scar running down the side of it. I bet he’s a scary fuck to some, but he’s just another meathead to me.

He makes his way toward me, and I see his hits before they even happen. I do this shit all the time, so I can read most people’s moves before they make them just by watching how different body parts rest. I learn quickly what they favor, what’s weak, and what may be injured.

Bingo, his knee, old injury. I notice he also likes to wind up his arm instead of throwing clean, quick jabs.

I stare him in the face. He’s breathing heavily and glaring like that’s going to intimidate me. I side kick down onto his knee, and he drops, letting out a loud scream. I probably just crushed his kneecap with my motorcycle boot.

Douche is smart on his way down, though. He jabs out and clips me on the side of my jaw. When he makes it to the ground, I reach out and quickly grab his ears, smashing his face into my knee. Blood sprays from his nose and goes everywhere.

I step back to let him get to his feet; I prefer a more fair fight.

“Agh!” he roars and charges at me like a bull. He gets an uppercut to my ribs.

Fuck! All right, I’m done playing.

I yell back and slam my head into his bloody nose. I hear everyone in the crowd scream, and it fuels my adrenaline. He stumbles back, and I come at him with consecutive jabs—two, two, and one.

My last jab does it, and he falls to the ground.

“TKO, motherfucker! Next time, don’t touch my ribs.” I turn and nod at Moe. Mark it, another one for Cain.

The coke is thrumming through my blood with the adrenaline. All I can think of is getting a cold beer and fucking London. I check around for Twist and pick out London right next to him.

Good girl. I’m surprised she listened.

She notices me walking toward her, and her smile lights up. I did that…I put that smile there. I beam back at her.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, you good?” I place my arm around her back as soon as I’m next to her.

Every biker in here has been checking her sexy ass out, and they all need to know she’s here with me and she’s leaving with me. I’m all sweaty, but that’s good—my scent will be all over her.

“I’m great. That was so fucking awesome! God, Cain, you were like a machine.” She’s so excited, she’s jumping up and down while she talks.

“I was just telling Twizzler here that you looked so hot.” Twist grins over at her like she’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

I have to do a double take. Twist, the crazy motherfucker, is wrapped around London’s little finger. I bet she doesn’t have any clue how good she has it with him. Twist would skin some fuckers alive if she asked him to.

I’ve never seen him be so gentle and nice to anyone before. I smirk at him; I’m so giving him shit for this later.

“Good fight, brother. Your little troublemaker was yelling at the top of her lungs, cheering you on the whole fight. I thought she’d puke. You didn’t tell me she was such a cool bitch.” He and London smile at each other, and she squeezes his arm. He hands me a small towel and a beer.