She gives me a warning look, like she thinks someone here will know what we did and I smile…nobody will ever know what we did. She sticks her finger back into her mouth and I see her engagement ring glisten under the bright lights, the ring that I bought her—the ring that took me six hours to pick out. How easily I forget we are no longer girlfriend and boyfriend—that I promised the rest of my life to her…and she promised hers in return. To think it all happened right underneath my feet.
I continue my circle of the ring until I’m back in my corner. Normally, I like to show off a little bit for the crowd, but tonight I want them to see that I mean business.
An unfamiliar song blasts over the speakers and the crowd goes nuts once again. A pang of anticipation courses through me and I turn my head to see Junior Moset thundering down the walkway with a wide smile on his face. He’s used to this. This is his world that I’m entering and I hate that it gives him an edge over me. Junior enters the ring and does his round before settling on the opposite side of the ring.
“Remember, try to keep it standing. Avoid going to the floor if you can and go for the knock out. It’s your best bet,” Jackson calls as the announcer speaks, introducing the referee and the fighters.
He sounds extremely confident in me, but little does he know, it’s easier said than done. It’s almost impossible to keep a ground fighter standing for the majority of the fight. When things get too fast, they go for the takedown. When they get stung, they go for the takedown. Hell, they even go for the takedown if they miss a hit. I’m not going to be able to keep this standing for long…and I hope my ground game is good enough to prevent any devastating submissions.
Junior and I watch each other from opposite sides of the cage, and when the referee, Marty Quim, steps inside, the noise of the audience lessens. Junior crouches slightly, his nostrils flare out as he breathes heavily. I monitor the way his fists tighten as he raises them up in front of his body and awareness covers me. I know the purpose of every muscle in my body, and I position each one in preparation for what's to come. This is my element, too, I remind myself. This is my show.
My life.
My passion.
And I will not fucking lose this.
“Junior, are you ready?” Quim shouts and Junior flicks his cocky, dark eyebrows at me.
“Yes!”
“Seth, are you ready?”
I nod my head, narrowing my eyes at Junior. He’s a good guy, but tonight he’s the only thing standing between me and the respect I deserve…which makes him my enemy. The bell rings and we push off from our corners and meet in the middle to touch gloves. As soon as our hands touch, we drop our stances and square off.
Powerful feelings envelope me and I waste no time in lashing out, swinging full force. It was never in our game plan to throw power punches right off the bat, but I wanted to gauge Junior’s reaction time because once I find my flow, he’s a fucking goner. He takes a couple quick steps back as my fists rain down on him. He brings his hands up to shield his face, but it’s no use. I drop low and slam my knuckles into his ribs, listening to them force the air from his lungs. With every hit I land, I feel myself become more and more relaxed, no longer anxious. And because of that, I find myself moving quicker—more confidently. Junior is no match for my strikes. He knows it too, and he dives for my legs to avoid my punches. I sprawl, wrapping my arms around his and shoving him off me. I step back as he jumps to his feet and brings his hands back to guard his face. Junior’s brow is furrowed and I know he didn’t expect me to be so aggressive. Rule number one, never underestimate me. Never underestimate my weaknesses because when I use them to fuel my strengths, you better look out. Junior comes in hot with quick jabs to the stomach. I drop my hands to protect my stomach—both of them—a rookie mistake and he clips me in the mouth. A searing pain splits my lip (in the exact same pace that’s healing from Don’s beating) and I taste blood. Junior backs off as I spit blood onto the canvas.
“Lucky shot,” I growl, bringing my fists back up and advancing on him. As if his impatience is running out, Junior begins to jab at me again from the right. I let two hit me and feign left as the third comes in. He switches his angle, like I expected, and I go right, striking Junior once, twice—no—three times in the ribs. Junior hunches and I grab his neck, bringing up my knee and driving it right into his chest. I hear the crowd go crazy and I know the quick pace of this fight is driving them insane. Junior counters as I bring my leg down and grabs me by the knee. He hooks his arm around it and twists, causing me to turn at an awkward angle and fall to the mat with a bang. I yank my ankle free and roll quickly, flipping myself up onto the balls of my feet as Junior’s fist flies toward my face. At the last moment, I pivot, but it’s not fast enough and Junior’s knuckle clips the side of my head, sending a loud ring through my ear. I take a few steps back to clear my head and Junior doesn’t waste a second and dives at me almost instantly. He grabs my legs and takes me down. I struggle against him, barely getting anywhere. He’s a heavy bastard, that’s for sure.
“Don’t get caught!” I hear Darryl shout. “Watch your arms!”
I clap my hands together and squeeze them tightly as Junior does his best to work them open and wrap himself around one of them. He moves his body up mine, getting the mount and trapping my arms underneath his weight. I grunt as I flick my hips in an attempt to get him off me, but it fails. I’m in full guard position and I wrap my legs around him to prevent him from standing up. Somehow, he passes my guard and rises up. My whole body tenses as I see him lift his elbow before dropping it down on my chest. A groan releases itself from my throat as he does it again and again, drawing nearer to my face. I unclasp my hands and push against his chest. My chest aches from the force of the elbows he slammed into them and I grit my teeth into the mouth guard. He copies my movements, pushing down on my chest.
“No, Seth!” I hear Jackson yell and I feel Junior shift on me. Oh shit! His leg swings over my face as he twists his body. Shit! He grabs my arm and drops himself backwards, straightening my arm out until it bends in the opposite direction. I clench my jaw as pain shoots up my forearm and into my elbow. Junior pulls harder and I growl out loud.
“Hold it! Three!” I hear Darryl scream. “Two!”
A second later, the bell dings and the pressure subsides. Junior slips away from me and jogs over to his corner. What the fuck? I blink a few times, still lying on the floor, dazed. He almost beat me. I shake my head and climb to my feet. I shake and squeeze my elbow. It feels bruised and tense…he almost had me with a goddamn arm bar.
“It’s okay,” Darryl says as I drop onto my stool. “The next round is yours.”
Darryl and Jackson are in my face. I try to focus on what they’re saying, but my heart pounds loudly in my ears. That was too fucking close. He almost had me and he would have if the bell hadn’t gone off.
“Water,” I demand and Jackson hands it to me.
I suck down a mouthful of water and swish it around my dry mouth before swallowing it. Darryl goes over our game plan in detail, but I’m way too worked up to listen. Instinctively, I glance over my shoulder and seek her out. Olivia’s wide green eyes peer at me through the gaps in her fingers. Her long, chocolate hair is messy and disheveled, like she’s run her fingers through it, and even with her hands guarding most of her face, I can tell she’s worried for me and I have to change that. The next round is mine.
I will not lose. Not today.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Olivia
I suck in a sharp breath but I don't cry out like I want to. Every cell in my body presses against my skin, urging me out of my chair and towards him. Every atom that I’m composed of demands I protect my fiancé…and yet I remain in my seat, silent and obsessed, watching his every muscle spasm, lip twitch, and every clench of his jaw as Junior straightens his arm out. I’m on the edge of my seat, absorbing all of the energy and anxiety inside the massive arena into my tiny body. I’d chew my nails if I hadn’t already chewed them to the bone. C’mon, Seth, tap out. I don’t care if he loses, but I care if he gets hurt. I see Seth’s elbow begin to bend in the other direction and the pain on his face sends a sharp arrow of panic into my chest. Anxious sweat begins to bead on my skin and I rake my fingers through my hair. I witness exactly four more seconds of Seth’s pain before I can’t take it anymore and I shield my face with my hands.
The bell rings and I peer through my fingers.
“Holy hell!” Selena giggles, practically bouncing in her seat. “That was so fucking close!”
She rocks her bony shoulder into mine and I jerk to the side, ignoring her. Jackson has a stool down in Seth’s corner before the bell stops its annoying chime, but Seth remains on the floor—dazed. Like he can’t believe he’s still in the fight. He shakes it off and climbs to his feet and stalks towards his team before dropping onto his stool. While Darryl talks, Jackson checks his body and hands him a water bottle. Seth takes a quick mouthful of the water and glances over his shoulder at me. I heat up under his gaze and I can’t pinpoint what he’s thinking, exactly. Jackson slaps a bag of ice down on his shoulders and Seth barely flinches at it. I look over at Junior’s team and they seem really happy with the first round…there’s no doubt in my mind that he won it. Seth needs to finish this before it goes to the judges. He’s already lost one round.
The stools are pulled away and the teammates leave the ring.
Ding.
Round two begins.
Anticipation crackles through me, setting my blood alight. I lean my elbows on my knees and press the tips of my fingers to my forehead.
They circle each other watching, waiting for an opening. Junior is the first to break and lashes out with a hard kick. Seth grabs his ankle and yanks Junior off balance, pulling his leg past his torso and then launching forward and punching him straight in the nose. Blood gushes almost instantly and I suddenly feel under the weather. Dread swirls in my stomach, mixing with the nausea and I sink in to myself. Why do I do this to myself?
Junior wipes his nose with the back of his glove, but never drops his hand. He swings at Seth, but Seth ducks and lunges toward Junior. He grasps his neck with his left hand and begins delivering a series of devastating punches to Junior’s stomach. Junior attempts to bring his knees up to protect his torso, but fails and Seth drives him back until he’s pressed against the cage. Seth’s eyebrows are drawn together, his lips parted in an aggressive way, exposing his white mouth guard. My eyes begin to sting and are screaming at me to blink, but I don’t. I don’t want to miss a second of this fight.
With a second wind, Junior drops low and rushes at Seth with a vengeance. His thick, tattooed arms wrap around Seth’s legs and they both hit the canvas with a slap. There’s a flurry of fists and legs before Seth rolls quickly, coming to rest on top of Junior. Junior blocks his head as Seth starts to rain heavy punches and elbows down on him. The referee gets in close, ready to call the fight in Seth’s favor as a result of a TKO at any second. Jackson and Darryl are yelling directions at him and urging him to keep going. The crowd is so loud I can't make out their exact words, but when I look over at Junior’s corner, I see the look of panic in his team’s eyes. They don’t want an experienced fighter like Junior Moset to lose to an amateur like Seth. I almost smile. They were wrong to ever underestimate my man. Seth is fierce and fast, like a train. When he reaches full speed, he’s unstoppable and you better get out of the way. With terrifying speed, he hits Junior over and over and over again. When Junior blocks his face, Seth drops his fists to his stomach. He hits him with wild abandon, showing no finesse, no rhythm to his strikes. He wants to win and he wants to win in the most devastating way possible. I shiver, glancing away from Seth as he dominates Junior. I don’t think Junior is going to have much of a face after this. Seth’s chest rises and falls rapidly, like he’s run a marathon and a half. It’s splattered with his opponent’s blood and I watch as the crimson dots glisten under the bright lights. Seth draws his arm back and Junior refuses to block it, he lies there breathing heavily, waiting for the ref to call it. Before he strikes Junior one last time, his eyes flick to me and my heart whams against my ribs. His dark eyes linger on me, waiting for me to do something. I realize I’m shaking my head at him…because I understand what he wants. He’s asking my permission to hit Junior one more time—a defenseless, injured Junior—and I shake my head because it’s wrong. He’s already given up. With a swift nod, Seth swings a leg over Junior’s head, grabs his arm and falls backward. Junior doesn’t tap out at first, but when Seth flicks his hips, Junior slaps the canvas so hard the spectators in the back can probably hear it.
The referee calls the fight and the crowd goes mental with cheers and screams. Selena undoubtedly squeals the loudest and pulls me to my feet. Her arms surround me and she shakes me from side to side. I can’t do much with my arms forced down against my sides, so I glance back to the ring. The ring is suddenly filled with press and teammates and reporters. I can’t see Seth at all and I’m probably not going to for a while.
“We’ll wait for them back in the locker room.” Selena smiles, hooking her arm around mine and dragging me from my row.
I let her lead me because my body is still in shock. What a flip around…I bet everyone thought Junior was going to take that one. Not to mention Seth…and the look on his face when he was absolutely dominating Junior. Pure hunger. He wanted to win, and he did. He certainly did.
Selena and I jump as the room door swings open and crashes into the concrete wall. Whoops and cheers fill the otherwise silent room as loads of people fill it to the brim. Selena leaves my side the second Jackson makes himself present, but I decide to linger in the background on the couch. I’m sitting on my hands to stop the excited, anxious energy that still flowed through me. Will I ever get used to this lifestyle? I don’t like feeling like this, like I’m on the edge of a panic attack, but on cloud nine as well.
