Cage: Untamed Sons MC, #9

By Jessica Ames

Enjoy this dark motorcycle club romance from USA Today Bestselling MC romance author Jessica Ames...

 

The cage is where I feel most at home. There's something about the thrill of the fight, of chasing an opponent around the ring that calms those demons inside me. At least until I found the club. I'm a patched brother now, no longer a prospect and with that comes responsibilities, loyalty too. For the first time in a long time I have a place in the world, one that doesn't come with conditions. The Untamed Sons are my family. Brothers closer than blood, men I would fight and die for. I never expected to want anything outside of that world, until I met her. Carissa is everything I want and more, but she's harbouring secrets, ones that put her in danger. Saving her will mean going up against a man I once considered blood too, but there's no way I'm walking away from her. She's mine and I'll do whatever it takes to save her.

 

All books in the Untamed Sons universe can be read as standalones, but are better enjoyed read in order. This is a dark romantic story with a guaranteed happily ever after. It does have some strong language, graphic violence and content that might be triggering.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Ames
• Release date: Nov 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223838593

Book preview

Cage

CAGE

UNTAMED SONS MC

JESSICA AMES

Copyright © 2022 by Jessica Ames

www.jessicaamesauthor.com

Cage is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

Editing by Knox Publishing

Beta readers: Lynne Garlick, Clara Martinez Turco Allisyn Pentleton, Pat Labrie

Please note this book contains material aimed at an adult audience, including sex, violence and bad language.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under Copyright Act 1911 and the Copyright Act 1988, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.

This book is covered under the United Kingdom’s Copyright Laws. For more information visit: www.gov.uk/copyright/overview

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

1. Kyle

2. Carissa

3. Kyle

4. Carissa

5. Kyle

6. Carissa

7. Kyle

8. Carissa

9. Kyle

10. Carissa

11. Carissa

Epilogue

Did you love Cage?

Fractured Vows

Snared Rider

About the Author

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book contains themes that may be upsetting. Reader discretion is advised.

Check for content warnings here: https://www.jessicaamesauthor.com/jessicaamestwcw

This book is set in the United Kingdom. Some spellings may differ.

1

KYLE

The cage is where I feel at home. There’s something about the atmosphere before a fight that puts me at ease, makes all the tension, all the pain in my chest loosen. Throwing punches means I can breathe and allows me to find my footing again on this unsteady terrain.

My opponent tonight is huge. Over six-foot-five with shoulders as wide as a truck and arms designed to crush. I’m not a small guy, but I’m nowhere near as built as he is. My body is athletic. Svelte. My black skin is stretched over muscles that have been honed from years of fighting. While I might not look like much to him, there’s a reason I’m a demon in the ring.

I tap my fingerless gloves together as I step into the cage, the roar of the crowd a distant sound in my ears. My only focus is on the man in front of me and how I’m going to destroy him. I channel all my anger, all my hurt into this moment, and it makes me strong. It makes me believe I can take on the world and win.

My brothers are here tonight. Standing ringside are Levi and Nox. Two of my brothers are always here when I fight. I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m the best underground cage fighter in the whole of the UK, but it makes me feel better having them at my back.

I never had that before the club, but now I have this huge family I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t help feeling Emil would have loved this lifestyle. He was always the more outgoing of us both.

I close my eyes briefly.

Emil is gone.

I refuse to accept it, but I know deep down that my brother is never coming back.

Two hands clamp around my face before dragging my attention down.

Hugh Mortimer.

My coach and a man who saved my life in more ways than I can count peers up at me. There’s no softness in his eyes. There never is. He wants the kill, and he doesn’t care how I get it. There are no rules in the cage. That doesn’t faze me because I’ve learnt over the years there are no rules outside it either.

Is your fucking head in the game? Hugh hisses at me.

He’s a small man with a rat-like face, beady eyes, and he wears a constant smirk that really pisses some of my brothers off. None of them like him, but Hugh has been with me since I was a kid. He was there when I was too young to be in the cage, pushing me, helping me to gain my financial freedom. My brothers think he had no right to shove me into fighting when I was just a kid, but they’re wrong. I wanted it as much as Hugh.

I needed it.

Hugh helped me. He gave me a life I could never have dreamed of.

I’m ready, I assure him.

I know why he’s nervous. There are big stakes on this fight. If I lose, a lot of people will be out a lot of money, including Hugh himself. He’s not supposed to bet on me, and if the Frasers find out he is, they’ll beat the shit out of him, but Hugh’s a man who walks on a knife’s edge.

I better win.

Hugh stares into my eyes as if testing the truth in my words, then nods. You got this, kid.

I do, so I nod and step around him as he heads out of the cage, leaving me to my fate.

I don’t clear my mind. Instead, I think of my brother, of what my father did to us as kids, and that fuels the fury racing through my veins. My lips tug into a snarl as I step up to my opponent, ready to do battle.

Jarrod Michaelson.

He’s an up-and-coming talent, huge, but not fast. I’ve seen him fight before, and he tires quickly. He’ll rely on hitting me as hard as he can each time to knock me down. I have to ensure that doesn’t happen.

He smirks at me.

A mistake.

Now, I want to wipe that fucking smug look off his face.

Weaving around me, Jarrod holds his hands up against his chest, ready for the fight. I don’t. I stand loosely, alert but calm.

All the noise of the crowd fades into nothing, and all I can hear is his breathing and my own.

His first swing is clumsy, and I’m easily able to duck back from it. He aims another, which I also dodge, and I see the frustration in his face when he realises, I’m not just going to stand there and take his hits.

With renewed vigour, he rains down punch after punch, which I avoid, ducking to get out of his path. The last one clips me in the jaw hard enough to rattle my teeth, but I absorb the blow as if it’s nothing because he’s doing the one thing I want him to do.

Exhausting himself.

When he’s done, I respond. I slam my fist into his side hard enough to push the air from his lungs. He doubles over, huffing out. I can see the surprise in his face that I pack that hard of a punch.

I don’t grin or smirk. I keep my lips pulled into a tight line instead as I hammer him. He comes back with his own renewed attack. I can’t avoid a few of his hits, and although they’re hard enough to drive me to my knees, I lock my legs and stay upright. Going down is a sure-fire way to lose the fight. Blood trickles down my face. I ignore it and focus on the prize.

Winning.

This is where I’m most at home.

This is what I live for.

The adrenaline. The excitement.

It’s a spark to an ember.

I need this to keep my sanity. Without fighting, I’ll lose my fucking mind.

Jarrod swipes at the blood pouring down his face from a cut over his eyebrow. His eyes are already starting to swell from my punches. It’s the sweetest sight.

The fight is brutal. Unrelenting. The punches and kicks never stop. We go at each other like feral animals, ready to die for the title of winner. I don’t give a shit about titles. I just need to fight. That urge is always inside me, a festering cancer I can’t remove.

Jarrod gets the upper hand on me a few times, but he can’t match my speed, which makes all his strength worthless. I’ve always been fast. Even as a kid, I was the fastest in the cage.

I want to wipe the blood from my eyes, but I circle Jarrod instead, ready for whatever he’s going to throw at me next. Emil’s face dances in my vision. He’s six in my mind. In reality, he’d be closer to nineteen. A man now. But I have no idea what he looks like grown-up, so I cling to the image of my little brother and let it fan the flames of anger.

A solid hit to my face drags me back to the fight, and I retaliate with force. Jarrod goes down onto his knees, and I seize the opportunity to take him down further, my legs wrapping around his neck. I squeeze so hard my knees touch and burn from the pressure. I can see his face going red behind the blood coating his skin, his eyes bugging.

Patience here is the key. So, I wait for him to tap out. The body can only stand so much before panic