The Most Dangerous Game (Harry Styles AU)

53

-Harry

The screams were loud.. louder then what was normal for one of my fights.

The amount of people filling the arena slightly surprised me as I had made my walk to the ring with Coach at my side.

I knew it was because of the publicity. Because of the the larger venue then I'm used to boxing in. And both were due to Carter.

That fact alone left me unable to enjoy it.

The crowd hadn't been earned entirely because of my reputation. It had been paid for by him.

And I'd no choice but to continue doing his bidding now that he threatened my family. I already hated the b.astard enough due to his relationship with Everly, then he had to involve my dad and mum.

A.rsehole.

"Styles!" Coach's voice along with a swift slap to the side of the head snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you even listening to me!?"

I nod absentmindedly as he kneels in front of the stool I'm currently sat on in the corner of the ring.

"Move your d.amn feet!" He yells over the crowd, giving me a quick drink of water. "You're slower then a.ss out there tonight!"

"He still hasn't hit me." I defend.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't of knocked him out in the first round."

I silently agree, knowing I could of easily had my opponents back to the mat within minutes. But I couldn't. Tonight I'm playing Carter's game, not my own. The same game I've been playing for the last six fights.

But coach doesn't know that, and there's no way I could ever tell him. He'd drop me in less then a minute and kick my a.ss the next.

"Got to give the people a good show yeah?" I joke, making Coach's ever present frown turn into an all out scowl.

"Just win the f.ucking fight." He shoves the mouth guard back into my mouth.

Nodding, I stand up, letting the stool be pulled away from under me and out of the ring. Coach follows it, stepping through the ropes as I tap my gloves together and jump from foot to foot.

He's right, my blood isn't flowing like it usually is. I haven't been moving like I usually do.

I haven't needed to.

I've fought my opponent before. Andre Broner, three years my senior but only having half a dozen more fights under his belt. He was actually the first proper fight I'd had when I moved to the states. He was slow on his feet, unfocused, and he couldn't keep his chin down. It had been an easy win, and that was before I started training with Coach.

I could win this fight by knockout with one hand tied behind my back, but that wasn't what Carter wanted. That wasn't what I was being paid to do. So that left me with the difficult task of trying to make it seem like Andre had a chance. And by the looks of the smirk plastered across his face as he stepped across the ring towards me, it appeared I was doing a good job of it.

Just the arrogence of it alone made me want to give him a sharp uppercut to the ribs. Follow that with a quick jab to the nose with my left and putting my weight into a swing aimed directly as his temple with my right would leave him on the mat. Out cold, easy as that.