Muhammad Ali Jr. Novels & Stories

He kept looking at his watch, annoyed until he us. I took that as my cue to leave the car and walk to him. He eyes me up and down and licked his lips before offereing his hand. I put my hand in his and he brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. He then smiled at me, showcasing his yellowing teeth. “When they said my date was beautiful, I didn’t imagine she was this pretty. You are very gorgeous.” “Thank you, sir.” “Call me Alonzo. The girls also call me daddy.” He remarked with an ugly laugh that turned into a heavy cough. I looked away in fear that some of his saliva would fall on my face.

Then I saw him… A man standing at the ridge above the burning trucks, rifle still raised, smoke curling from the barrel. Gray hair. Hard eyes. A presence that could still silence an entire room. Alpha Renard. Alaria’s father. “Father…” Alaria whispered. I knew that she hadn't seen him in a very long time. I knew that he believed her to be dead. Not technically, but theoretically. He knew that she was alive. He chose to treat her as if she was dead. He descended the slope slowly, every step deliberate, boots crunching over glass and snow. The battle behind us had fallen still. The remaining soldiers, ours and Darius’s alike, watched in stunned silence.

I needed to buy myself a lot of time or else, I was going to be doomed if he discovers. Bang! I collided with a figure just as I was running, making me fall to the floor. Immediately, a sense of premonition arose in my heart as I stood up and looked at the figure. Frowning, I saw that the figure was a man in his late sixties. But from the looks of it, he didn't seem to be a member of the pack and it made me wonder if he was a spy. But then I could care less about that at the moment, I needed to leave as soon as I could. I didn't know if Alpha Kyle had noticed that I was missing or not.

HARRISON'S POV Muhammad Ali had a lot to answer for. When he lit the flame at the Atlanta Olympics, there hadn’t been a dry eye anywhere in the world. Why had we all been crying? Because a great sportsman had been reduced to that—a shuffling, mumbling, twitching shadow of himself. A man who had once danced like a butterfly now trembled like a blancmange. We always remembered the athletes. When the body betrayed a scientist like Stephen Hawking, people comforted themselves with the idea that he could still live inside his mind. But a crippled athlete was something else entirely, a bird with a broken wing. The higher you soared, the harder the fall.

I mumbled to myself as I slowly pushed his door open. Julius looked as though he’d just finished putting on his shorts and was about to look for a t-shirt when I walked in. He didn’t look up at me, completely unfazed by my presence despite his half-naked appearance. I took the opportunity to take a good look, noticing the small flecks of scars littering his body, marring his otherwise smooth sun-kissed skin. “You’ve fought in battle?” I found myself asking. “I’m Alpha to one of the largest packs, that’s a given.” He responded as he put on a shirt, raising his eyebrow at me as if to say I’d just asked a stupid question.

This is a man, with a slight smile on his face, assessing me silently, listening to my ridiculous baffling. He is not just a man though. He's an Alpha. The Alpha.

taking out five dollars in ones I reach out to hand them to him only for him to shack his head no. "What's your name" he asks catching me off guard, here I thought this Adonis of a man was just going to ignore me while we waited. "Harper, Harper Lewis" I hate my name with a passion, I still to this day have no idea why my mom named me Harper. I reach my hand out for him to shake and ask him what his name is. "Nixon Marsh" he shakes my hand and I feel sparks as if he was electrically charged and I pull my hand away quickly.

Russsell's face is getting red, and the guy only tightens his hold on him. Uncle Fred slams his hand on the mat making Russell look at him. I see the panic in his eyes, he's going to lose the fight. "Now you listen here, kid! You didn't come all this way to lose to some steroid-infused chicken shit, did you? Now get your head out of your ass, focus! and fight like the damn fighter you know you are. Remember all the shit I taught you to. If you can fight against me, you can fight against anybody. Now show these fuckers what you're made of. Show them what you got. Show them WHO. RUSSELL KNIGHT. IS!" he yells out, looking at Russeell menacingly.

Everyone is approaching the ring and we do the same and, pushing and shoving, we manage to get in the front row as many of them are drunk. -WELL! FIRST WE HAVE A TITAN WITH TEN FIGHTS WON AND TWO LOST WILLIAM THE DESTROYER!- he introduces and some boo and others cheer as they watch him climb into the ring. He's almost six feet tall and has a lot of muscle mass so I'm guessing he'll be slower although that's not completely known. He has his hair shaved to one and brown eyes - AND SECOND BUT NOT LESS IMPORTANT WE HAVE A CHAMPION WITH TWENTY FIGHTS WON AND ZERO LOST, THE DEVIL CAMBELL - this time there are very few people booing him and almost everyone cheering him on. As soon as I see him get

Bobby sucks in a sharp breath. A slow smile pulls at my lips. Game-changer.