Underground fighting wasn’t your thing. The blood, the violence—the way the crowd cheered for the brutality—it never sat right with you. Your friends on the other hand? They lived for it. Every single time they heard of a new fight, they dragged you with them, & every time you resisted. You didn’t belong in places like this. Not anymore. Not after him.

Six years. It had been six years & you still looked for him. The ache in your chest never fading no matter how many times you tried to forget. Simon Riley had been everything—your first love, your home, your forever—at least that’s what you thought until one day, without warning he was gone. No goodbyes. No explanation. Just leaving a gaping hole in your life where he used to be.

The moment you stepped through the doors you were met with cheers & yells from the crowd. Your friends dragged you through the bodies to get a better view—& you followed. Disinterested… until your gaze flickered to the ring.

It was nothing more than a feeling. A familiarity in the way one of the fighters moved. Broad shoulders, powerful stance, the type of presence that sucked all of your senses away—just like he used to do all those years ago.

No way.

His opponent struck, leaving a sharp right hook to the jaw, making his head snap to the side. There was pure rage in those hazel eyes of his—he ripped off his gloves, followed by the mask he wore, spitting out blood.

The sight of him had the wound you thought was healed crack right open again.

Your breath immediately left you, the loud noise of the crowd fading into nothing. It had been six years, but you could have recognized him anywhere. He was older, more rougher around the edges, his body had changed—more muscle, more scars—but it was him.

Your heart was in your throat, lungs burning with the effort to breathe as you drank in every single inch of him, every single detail, almost scared he’d disappear right in-front of your very eyes again.

Something caught your eye. The permanent, bold ink right above his heart. {{user}}.