Married To My Ex's Brother, Reborn Miraculously-Chapter 206: The Devil never forgets how to fight

Anne’s heart pounded painfully. Her instincts screamed danger. This man seemed like born for violence. Every movement radiated danger, like a lion scenting blood. He didn’t need to raise his voice or bare his fists—his presence alone was enough to freeze the air.

She clutched Augustine’s arm instinctively.

"Who is he?" she whispered, voice tight with fear.

Augustine patted the back of her hand. "Relax," he said reassuringly. "I’ve got this."

He took a step forward, pushing Anne behind him. "The Devil never forgets how to fight." He motioned with his fingers, inviting him as he took a fighting stance. "Come on. Show me your moves."

Anne’s blood turned cold as she saw them ready for the combat. "Augustine," she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Step back," Augustine commanded.

Anne hurried back, knowing the tension had already escalated beyond intervention. She couldn’t stop them. All she could do was pray for Augustine to win the fight.

The man rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles as he stepped forward, his lips curling into a sneer. In a flash, his expression changed, and he lunged at him. His fist came down like a sledgehammer, a brutal arc meant to crush the skull.

But Augustine was faster. He ducked low, nimble as a shadow, the punch missing him by a hair. Before the man could recover, Augustine moved one step to the left, then a pivot to the right, fluid as water.

Another strike from his opponent followed, faster and angrier, but again, it sliced nothing but empty air.

The crowd around the cage caught on quickly. Shouts erupted around the arena as heads turned from the ring to the edge where the battle had ignited. Even the official match inside the steel cage came to a halt, both fighters dropping their stances as they turned to watch the chaos unfold outside.

The man in the black tee threw another hook, more savage than before, but Augustine slipped beneath it like smoke, then drove his fist into his ribs—once, twice. The man grunted, momentarily stunned, but Augustine didn’t stop.

Augustine moved with uncanny speed, appearing behind his opponent and landing a jab to his back. The man turned with a snarl, only for Augustine to strike again, this time a precise hit to the temple from the other side. The man staggered, bewildered and furious.

The cheering grew louder, their voices filled with bloodlust and awe.

"Get him!"

"Damn, he is too fast!"

"He fights like a demon."

The man roared and charged, his massive arms wide like a bear going in for the kill. He raised a brutal fist, his eyes blazing red with rage. But Augustine, calm and calculated, sidestepped just as the punch came crashing down.

In one flawless motion, he seized his opponent’s wrist and twisted it sharply, spinning the brute around. Before he could resist, Augustine’s knee slammed behind his, buckling his leg.

Augustine hit the man with a grunt, one leg bent awkwardly under him, his grip locked on his opponent’s twisted arm.

The man tried to break free, pain crackling through his shoulder, his entire body fighting against the pressure. But it was useless. He growled low, then finally slapped his free hand against Augustine’s forearm, yielding.

A hush fell over the space, followed by a thunderous roar. The crowd exploded in cheers, astonished by the outcome.

Augustine released him and stepped back, chest rising slowly, eyes still locked on the man as if daring him to rise again. But the man didn’t. He remained on one knee, panting hard.

Anne, standing among the onlookers, was frozen. Her heart pounded wildly, both in fear and awe. She had just witnessed a different Augustine. She had never known he was so agile and skillful.

A sly grin spread across the man’s face as he looked up at Augustine, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. "You haven’t changed a bit. Still as deadly as ever."

Augustine’s lips tugged into a smirk. "A lion never forgets how to hunt," he replied coolly, extending a hand.

The man took it, and Augustine pulled him to his feet. For a moment, the air between them crackled with the remnants of their clash—but then, in a startling shift, they broke into laughter and clapped each other on the back.

Anne stared in stunned silence, her brows knitting together in disbelief. One moment they were locked in a brutal fight, and the next they were embracing like old friends. She struggled to piece together what she was seeing.

"It’s been too long, Lucien," Augustine murmured.

Lucien’s grin widened. "Damn right it has. I missed this—missed you. I thought the suits and boardrooms might have dulled you." His hands gripped Augustine’s shoulders tightly, his expression a mix of pride and nostalgia. "But you are still the same Devil I remember. Fluid, feral, unstoppable."

Whispers rolled through the watching crowd like a wave.

"Is that really him?"

"The Devil is back."

"He was the best fighter in the arena. He hasn’t lost a single edge..."

"Is he returning to the cage?"

Speculation buzzed in every corner, eyes still fixed on Augustine.

Lucien leaned in with a glint in his eye. "Come. Have a drink with me."

Augustine nodded without hesitation, then turned to Anne. He stretched his hand toward her, his gaze searching hers.

Still breathless and disoriented, Anne slipped her fingers into his. Her heart thudded against her ribs, overwhelmed by the storm of what she had just witnessed—but she trusted him, even in the heart of this wild, dangerous world.

Augustine led her through the crowd. They moved past curious stares and hushed voices, ascending a narrow staircase to a private balcony room shielded by tinted glass. Inside, the noise of the arena dulled.

The space was a blend of luxury and secrecy—rich mahogany panels, velvet chairs, and a sweeping view of the arena below. A decanter of amber liquor sat waiting on a carved wooden table. novelbuddy.cσ๓

Lucien poured three glasses of deep amber liquor. He handed one to Anne, his sharp eyes flicking toward her with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny.

"This is..." he began, a smirk playing on his lips.

"My wife," Augustine said as he draped an arm protectively around Anne’s shoulders. "Anne."

Lucien’s brow arched, his silver eyebrow ring glinting under the low lights. "Wife, huh?" He leaned back into the plush sofa, one leg casually crossing over the other. He took a slow sip of his drink, never taking his eyes off Anne. His mind went to the telephonic conversation with Augustine, who had mentioned a woman he had fallen head over heels for.

Anne stiffened, instinctively inching closer to Augustine. Her skin crawled under the weight of Lucien’s stare, her heart beating wildly. She felt as if he was looking straight into her very soul with those piercing eyes.

"Anne, is it?" Lucien drawled. "You are far too delicate to be the wife of a man like him. Don’t you know who you are sitting beside? This place—this life—it’s where he truly belongs. Are you ready to carry that kind of truth?"