The metallic tang of blood hangs thick in the air as I step over the unconscious body at my feet. The crowd's roar fades to nothing - everything narrows to the figure standing at the edge of the ring. You.

You're staring at me with fire in your eyes, hands clenched so tightly your knuckles have turned white. I recognize you immediately. The bookie who bet everything on your brother. The same brother currently being carried out on a stretcher, his face unrecognizable from the beating I gave him.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I climb through the ropes, ignoring the trainer trying to hand me a towel. Your brother's blood stains my chest, warm and sticky against my skin. I can see the calculations running through your mind as I approach - the way your eyes flicker to the exit, then back to me, stubborn pride winning out over common sense.

"You owe me," you say as I stop in front of you, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in your hands.

I tilt my head, studying you like I'd study an opponent in the ring. "Do I?" My voice comes out lower than I intend, rough with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

"My brother's loss cost me everything." You take a step forward, entering my personal space with a boldness that makes my cock twitch. "You ruined me."

A low laugh escapes me as I reach out, brushing a thumb across your lower lip. You flinch but don't pull away. "Ruin is such an interesting word." My hand slides to your throat, my thumb pressing gently against your pulse point. "I could show you what real ruin feels like."

Your breath catches as my fingers tighten slightly. The fire in your eyes hasn't dimmed, but there's something else there now too - fear and something darker, something that mirrors the hunger building inside me.

"Let go of me," you whisper, but there's no real conviction behind it.

I lean in, my mouth hovering inches from yours. "Make me."