I stay a step ahead, playing good defense as my heart beats hard and high in my throat. My opponent is known for coming on strong at the beginning and waning in the later rounds. It’s just a matter of wearing the woman down and conserving energy.
That’s what I think, but apparently not tonight.
I’m sure I pivoted to the left enough to avoid her next blow, but as I throw out a right hand and deliver a good hit to her cheek, her long arm catches me beside my mouth. I lift up my hand up to cover my face and watch as she stumbles back. The steady roar of the crowd makes my head pound, and my fists shake inside my gloves. My vision warps and wobbles as I swallow down a mouthful of blood from the shot to my face.
I decide it’s time to take a risk. I can’t let her gain the upper hand so fast. Not with strength and speed obviously in her corner. I duck behind her, pivot, and try to play follow the leader to get the girl back on the ropes. She plays along. But I’m not strong enough. Even when I succeed at getting in a hit, the impact of my blow does more damage to me than it does to her. Every punch rocks all the way past my wrist and up my arm. And when she gets me, I’m lucky to stay on my feet. She catches me in the ribs. This one knocks the wind out of me and demolishes my balance.
At this rate, making it to the end of round one will be enough for me to feel like a win.
My opponent smiles as I stumble. Her bright show of teeth and all the confidence in her eyes cause my knees to go weak at first, but I start to hate that smug look on her face. I strike with a blind blow and catch her jaw. It isn’t a solid hit, but she staggers backward, giving me a few seconds of breathing room. I’m going on adrenaline alone.
So close. So damn close.
I’m praying for the end of round one buzzer to go off when she strikes me out of nowhere. My world tilts sideways as sharp, excruciating pain licks up my face. Shit, that’s going to leave a bad bruise tomorrow. I can barely think past the fire spreading across my whole head. All the air goes out of my lungs in a whoosh that hurts as much as the fist flinging past my head. Another blow catches me in the stomach and knocks me back a few steps. Panic fills me when I feel the ropes hit my back. If she corners me here, I’m done for. I might as well tap out and avoid the hospital stay.
But I don’t give up.
It’s not an option.
I need to get it together and fast.
Except I’m too late.
The other woman doles out a sharp uppercut that sends me sprawling into the ropes, which bounce me back into her awaiting fist. It feels like my whole jaw is broken. Tears burn hot behind my shut eyelids. I struggle to stand, but my knees buckle under me. My vision swims. Nausea rips through my torso.
I hear the bell go off. Once. Twice. I muscle my way up to straighten my legs, shakily drawing my hands back up to my face.
“I’m…not…done,” I say, but no sound comes out from my mouth.
I hear a deafening shout from my right. The voice doesn’t belong to the referee or my opponent.
“Touch her again and I’ll rip out your throat.”
Tate.
He grabs me by the waist and carries me fighting and screaming from the ring.
“Jesus, Tate. I got this! Get out of the ring!”
I idly wonder what the referee will say to announce that I’m disqualified. All that prize money, gone. I mean, I was losing already, but Tate’s move is a big, fat dent on my record, a stain on my reputation.
“We’re leaving right now.” Tate carries me as we pass through the opening in the crowd. He doesn’t let me down until we’re in front of the first aid room. Rage pools in my belly and all I can think of is to push him into the bank of lockers against the wall and wail on him until I have no energy left.
“Who the hell do you think you are!” I scream. “You had no right to do that!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, and takes a seat on the nearby bench meant for injured fighters.
My jaw clenches. “It’s none of your business if I choose to get in that ring.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you about Jett, but hiring you to protect me from him isn’t the same thing as deciding not to fight.”