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down the cool liquid, realizing just how dry my burning throat was. Mike was raving on to me about something, but I wasn’t taking in a single word he was saying. Instead I had my eyes concentrated on Mac. I was checking him over, trying to gauge how he was faring. If I could figure out where his head was at, then I could work out how many of the five rounds we were going to be going through. He was hurt after the first round, but it was mostly surface wounds. That was nothing to guys like us—he’d easily be able to fight through that.
    I was more than happy to do all five rounds if necessary, of course. The more I got to fight, the better, as far as I was concerned. Fighting had always been my release; it was what I needed from life, and I loved this shit. Only problem was that more rounds meant more chances to be beaten, and I really didn’t want to lose. On the very rare occasion that I’d been beaten in the past, it left me in a slump for days.
    It was obvious that Mac had been affected by the loss he’d just experienced, but it was slowly converting into something else, something that he intended to use to take me down. Determination? Rage? Humiliation? Probably a combination of all three.
    I was gonna have to step it up if I wanted to get this shit done.
    I took a deep breath, twisting my head from side to side, gearing myself up. I didn’t want this to go on for any longer than it needed to, and if I gave it my all now, then I could finish him and secure my win.
    I rose up to my feet, feeling like a fucking god. I was already kicking ass, so all I needed to do now was take it up one level, and that was no trouble.
    “Round two!”
    This time, I didn’t wait. I raced forward like a madman, my fists flying. The first one reached Mac’s jaw, which seemed to send agony bursting through him. He flailed in retaliation but had no chance of getting me, because my eyes were all over him and my brain was constantly anticipating his every move. I was fucking owning this shit.
    I pounded down over and over again, and even as he fell to the ground, I didn’t stop. Blood began to cover my fists and arms, and spots of it reached my torso, but even then I didn’t give up. It was almost as if I couldn’t. The frustration that had overshadowed my life was finally making its ugly appearance, and every time it did, I found it hard to control myself. I normally tried to keep it from the cage, but that didn’t always seem to work. Sometimes it crept up on me slowly and consumed me before I even noticed that it was there.
    Wreck him, my brain whispered as my body became a fighting machine that would stop at nothing. Just fuck him up.
    “Knockout!” A voice finally broke through my focused barrier. “Kaiden, I said knockout!”
    The referee grabbed my arm and tugged me backwards. I staggered off Mac’s destroyed body beneath me and tumbled to the ground.
    Holy shit, that was bad . As I lay there, I realized just how close I’d come to getting myself disqualified. I’d really taken it too far. I needed to learn to keep control of myself; I shouldn’t have lost myself in this way.
    My breaths started coming out as heavy pants as I stared at the damage I’d caused. Mac was a fucking mess. I knew this UFC shit was all about fighting and beating the shit out of people, but there was a line, and it needed to be drawn long before someone got fucking killed.
    What the hell had just happened to me?
    Mac finally coughed, blood splattering over his lips, and he turned over to his side. He groaned loudly as he moved, clearly in a lot of pain, but relief flooded through me all the same. At least he wasn’t out cold; at least he was okay. I’d never gone quite that far before, and I was a little stunned at myself.
    “Winner!” the announcer yelled, dragging me to a standing position and raising my arm up high. “Kaiden Cross!”
    I smiled weakly, trying to let the crowd’s yells boost me up once more. This was supposed to be the