Varg's Pov
“Stop, Varg, stop!” The words echoed in my mind like a siren as my fist connected with my opponent’s face again. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, sharp and biting, as images of Lyra, her tear-streaked face, her trembling form, flickered in my thoughts like a faulty bulb.
“You’re going to kill him.”
The voice dragged me back, pulling me from the haze of anger clouding my vision. I blinked, my chest heaving as I looked down. My opponent lay crumpled on the ground, his breaths shallow, his body struggling to move as two referees dragged him away. His face was swollen and bloodied, the aftermath of my uncontrollable rage.
“You’re this close to losing our bargain cash,” the manager barked, storming in with fury etched on his face. “What the hell came over you?”
I groa
