But I didn’t care.

I wanted Heath. Had wanted him for too long now.

“Christ, Allison, you’ve definitely woken me up now,” he muttered, looking down at me with his tender eyes.

I smiled at him. “Kick that guy’s ass, alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a wavering voice.

I let go of him and watched him face Marko. I felt someone’s presence behind me and turned back to see Matt with his arms crossed and his eyes directed to mine. He was frowning at me, no doubt disapproving of my kiss to Heath. I didn’t let it get to me. I turned away from him and resumed watching both opponents get ready.

A preliminary whistle sounded out and they both began to approach one another. The look on Marko’s chiselled face was lethal, meanwhile Heath was still clouded by his exhaustion. Then the second whistle sounded and it was officially on. They circled one another. Marko was the first to take a swing, hitting the air when Heath dodged his fist.

“Come on, Lawson!” The screams were coming from every corner of the room. Heath swung at Marko a few times, unsuccessfully hitting him. It was toe to toe until Marko moved in aggressively, uncaring of Heath’s punches across the face and chest. It was like watching a wrecking ball blasting through concrete. Marko sent quick, fast punches across Heath’s face and upper body. He was so quick, Heath could barely find room to punch back. He stumbled back as Marko continued to come at him, and only when his back touched against the crowd did Marko relent and pull away. He looked cocky, turning away from Heath without looking back. As if he was confident Heath wouldn’t take this opportunity to jump him.

He was right. Heath didn’t. He was too busy catching his breath and shaking his head from side to side. He opened his mouth and stretched his jaw, as though he were checking for anything broken, and I wanted nothing more than to step into the circle and go to him. To shield him from this creepy guy because he wasn’t like any other opponent Heath had ever faced. I took a step forward to do just that. My heart was breaking. Heath might get seriously hurt.

A hand suddenly wrapped around my arm, tugging me back.

“Don’t,” came Matt’s stern voice in my ear. “Heath can take care of himself.”

I didn’t trust myself to stay glued to that spot, so I let Matt keep his hold on me. I watched in despair as Marko started this game all over again, allowing Heath to come close before sending him straight back against the crowd. I wanted to believe it was Heath’s exhaustion that tamed his strength, but Marko had an edge about him that frightened me. It was like watching a lion tear through a cage after a lifetime of captivity. The man was a goddamn machine, and Heath had finally met his match.

Why the hell did he have to meet it now?

It was a slaughtering.

Heath fell down, but the stubborn ass wouldn’t stay down! He rose and fought back with everything inside of him, and it tore me to pieces to watch him fall back over and over again. Every punch was met with a gasp that escaped his lungs. Winded and exhausted, yet he carried on, giving the man some good hits along the way. Marko was not only enraged by Heath’s strikes, but surprised too, like he had never been touched this way. It seemed to aggravate him more.

I’d never seen the place so silent before. Everyone watched in awe as the man broke the one I… loved.

I loved him.

I wanted to cover my eyes and cry, but I found myself slipping away. Detached from reality, yet feeling as though I was being tortured from within. I felt every hit, heard every sound, and gulped back every tear as Marko brought him down one swing at a time.

Not even desperation could aid Heath like he had originally hoped.

He lost.

Completely and utterly faced defeat in a way I knew would kill him more on a mental level than physical.

*

Even long after the warehouse was empty, Heath lay on the floor, staring up at the broken ceiling with dead eyes. I stood still, watching him from afar as he refused to move. From behind me, I heard Matt’s footsteps as he too waited for Heath. He knew he was going to need help getting to the car and into the apartment. Matt offered to drive us home because in Heath’s current state, I was sure he wouldn’t be able to.

His lip was busted up. His face had swollen with bruises and one of his eyes could barely open the entire way. His body was red all over and would no doubt be a sea of black by the morning. He was glistening from head to toe in sweat, and was probably beyond dehydrated. Yet he refused to say a word to us. Refused to drink water or acknowledge our presence.

Matt knew what was going on. Heath had approached him for some help, but Matt pissed away all of his spare cash on alcohol and going out. I believed it. I’d seen him and Ryker firsthand throw away an insane amount of money in one night.

“If I were you,” he whispered to me, watching Heath carefully, “I’d convince him to take you the hell out of here and get as far away from Hedley as possible.”

I didn’t reply. Did he really have to say that?

Frowning, I walked over to Heath and took a seat on the ground next to him. I looked up at the gaping hole in between the ceiling beams, at the stars that shimmered like diamonds in the night sky. Pretty picturesque when it was coming through a derelict hole in a roof.

Some things are just relative, I guess.

“Heath,” I said quietly, “we need to get out of here before anyone notices we’re still in here.” Last thing we needed was to be robbed of whatever we had by roaming homeless people, or whatever gang lurked nearby.

“Yeah,” he simply muttered.

He made to move before pausing instantly. He grimaced at the pain and breathed through his teeth. Matt hurried to his side and tried to help him up, but Heath tore away from his grip. This was his way of saying he didn’t need help, and whatever pride he had left after that fight needed to remain intact, so I shot Matt a look that said, “Do as he wants.”

It took a while before Heath was on his feet and at his car. I leaned into his side on many occasions in case he stumbled and needed something to keep him upright. He refused to be driven home by Matt, instead choosing to jump into the driver’s seat. Despite this, Matt said he’d follow us home and leave when we were in our apartment, which I appreciated.

Heath drove slowly, the pain was raw on his face. I watched him intently, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t sure words would help him right now. They would have seemed empty anyway.