MISTAKE (LOST BOYS Book 1) by Emilia Finn

Author:Emilia Finn [Finn, Emilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd
Published: 2023-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

Cole

I WANT A CLEAN FIGHT

“Circle around!” Aiden Kincaid clings to the cage inside his family’s gym, shouting at me as one of their junior fighters sizes me up and jabs with a fast right hook.

The dude is about my age. Similar body. Similar skill set.

But for reasons unknown, Aiden wants me to win.

“Cole!” he booms when I take another fist to my chin. “Circle! Fuck.”

“Atta boy.” Jimmy, the youngest of the Kincaid brothers, stands on the other side of the cage and laughs when I see stars.

He’s coaching my opponent, and he spares no one’s feelings when knuckles meet bone.

“He drops that left,” he instructs his fighter.

So I lift my left and circle.

“Keep at him and smack his jaw. He’ll fall soon enough.”

“Stop listening to him.” Aiden rattles the cage and demands my attention.

But when I look to him, my opponent slams his fist against the side of my face so I turn a full three-sixty.

“Dammit, Cole! Watch him, stupid. But listen to me. Slip in. Knee to the canvas. Wrap him up and slam him to the floor. He’s Jimmy’s, which means his grapple is fucking weak.”

“Hey!” Jimmy cackles when his fighter jabs and misses. “My ground and pound rocks, bitch!”

“Those who are good,” Aiden says evenly, “never have to announce they’re good. He’s got legs,” he speaks of my opposition, “but he doesn’t use them. Swoop, wrap, throw him to the fucking canvas.”

“Don’t use my legs,” the guy grits around a blood-red mouth guard. As though he has a point to prove, he lifts his knee and swings around to drive his shin against the side of my thigh.

But Aiden is always more action than he is words. He taught me how to counter that shit, so I charge forward and catch his leg against my side. Then I keep running, shoving my opponent backwards until we both slam to the canvas, and the whole floor shakes.

“No!” Entirely entertained, Jimmy hollers his disapproval. “Find mount!” he calls to his guy. “Find mount, or you say goodnight.”

“Twist,” Aiden instructs calmly. “He’s got that chicken wing just hanging out there. Grab it, Cole.”

My heart thunders in my chest and thuds in my ears. Adrenaline keeps me moving, spinning, climbing, although I’ve been at this for hours already. I spring over the top of my opponent and grab his flailing arm, then I hug it to my chest and fling myself backwards until I slam to the floor, and I tighten my legs. My foot touches his face, and my sweaty thighs hug his bicep, but I position his thumb to point back toward my chest, and I bridge.

“Lift your hips,” Aiden coaches. “Tighten your legs and lift your hips.”

“Scramble out!” Jimmy counter-coaches. “Scramble, dummy, or he’s got you.”

“Calm.” Aiden is like a lighthouse in a stormy sea. Where his brothers are loud and showy, he’s always solid, always relaxed. Where they shout, he speaks, and where they demand something fancy, he wants basics: take them to the ground, end it. A quiet win is still a win.

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