Chapter 53

This is a battle.

I’m a warrior.

I have the strength.

I have the skills.

The power to win.

I repeat those five things to myself over and over while blasting Rage Against the Machine through my headphones backstage.

Molly’s sitting next to me on the bench, her leg touching mine. Just her presence centers me.

After a few songs, I take my headphones off and open my eyes.

“Let’s get those hands taped,” Underhill snaps. He hadn’t been thrilled I wanted Molly backstage with me. Or that she’d walk out with us. But I really don’t care. He’s a good coach and we clicked during training, but my personal life isn’t open for commentary. You’d think he would’ve learned that during all the pressers.

Remy, Eraser, Underhill, and, weirdly, Dawson Roads, are also walking out with me into the area. Since he sponsored some of my training and flew my friends here on his private jet, he can walk with me anywhere he damn well pleases.

Molly holds up her phone. “Am I allowed to take pictures and video?”

“Baby, you can do anything you want.” I lean in and kiss her cheek.

I stand and approach Underhill and the fight official who will sign the tape after my hands are wrapped. I hold my hands out palms-down. So much energy’s coursing through me my legs won’t stop moving, but I try to contain it and hold still while each knuckle and joint is carefully wrapped. Molly moves a few feet away and aims her phone at me. I throw her a cocky wink and she flashes a quick thumbs-up. Remy stands next to her, watching everything like a fuckin’ hawk.

The hands take a while. Molly has time to do a 360 walk around me, filming every angle.

When the hands are done and signed, Underhill pulls out his black-and-purple focus pads. “Let’s warm up.”

He barks numbers for the combinations of punches, and I throw. He doesn’t push into my punches as much as he did during training, this is just to get the blood flowing.

“Good, good. Keep moving. One, two, three. Right.”

We repeat the sequence a few times.

“All right,” Underhill says. “Break.”

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge in the corner and take a few quick sips.

I pace the four corners of the mat laid in the center of the locker room, then up and down the middle.

The flat-screen television on the wall has a live feed from the fights out in the arena right now. Eraser’s standing in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the men’s featherweight match.

“Who’s good?” I ask, stopping next to him.

“Both of them, really.”

“Hey,” I tap his arm, “after this, are you and Ella gonna take some time and do like a second honeymoon or something while you’re here?”

“Yeah.” A wide grin stretches across his face. “I booked a helicopter ride over the Strip to surprise her.”

“She’s going to love that.”

“I know.” His whole face scrunches up into a pleased with himself smile.

I clap him on the back and resume pacing, stopping in front of Remy. “What’d you think?” I hold up my hands and pretend to throw some jabs.

He stares at me for a few seconds. “I’m really fuckin’ proud of you. That’s what I think, brother.”

It’ll go to his head if I let him know how much that means to me. “I’m happy you’re here with me.”

“Me too.”

“This is the kinda shit we talked about in high school.” Before my life took a few detours and Remy’s did too.

“Ruling the fight world? Yeah, I remember,” he says. “You’re doing it.”

I lean in, not wanting to be overheard. “I’m here. I’m ready to go.” I throw my fists a few times. “I can collect my bag, no matter what. After I get in the ring, everything’s gravy.”

“You best believe I put some money on you to win,” he says.

“You did?”

He stares at me like I’m crazy. “Fuck yeah.”

People bet on me at The Castle all the time. It’s nothing new. Just a different location. Bigger stakes. Large pool of gamblers.

No big deal.

We work through a few moves together. I pull him into a standing choke but don’t apply pressure. Remy twists away and comes at me with a side kick grazing my leg.

Underhill supervises us and eyes Remy like a bull he wants to take to market.

“Magic is big.” Remy runs his hand from the center of his chest to his shoulders. “Heavy. He’ll be tough to take down. But I think once you do, you’ve got him.”

“That’s my plan.”

He shrugs and gives me a sheepish look. “I know you have a plan.”

“I always appreciate the advice.” I slap his arm so he knows I’m not annoyed and return to the bench with Molly.

She’s busy flipping through the pictures she took. I tap one of me with my head down, watching as my hands get taped. “You can post that to my Insta if you want.”

“Yeah?” She pulls my phone out of her purse and hands it to me.

“You know the code.” I have nothing to hide from her.

“But you’re sitting right here.”

I flash my taped hands at her.

She sends the photo to my phone and then loads it to Instagram. “How should I caption it?”

“No tricks tonight. Just fists of steel?” I suggest.

She squints. “I’ll work on it.”

Laughing, I watch her hands swiping over my phone, especially her bare ring fingers. “Hey, you have that selfie of us from the room?”

She flicks to the photo gallery and shows it to me.

“Post that too.”

Her thumb hesitates over the image. “But tonight’s about you.”

“And I want you to post both pics.”

She posts the pictures, then shuts off the screen and tucks my phone away.

“Would you rather hang with Shelby ringside?” I ask.

“I’m right where I want to be.” She tugs on the sleeve of her oversized purple hoodie that’s covering that smoking hot silver dress. “Thank you for this. I would’ve been freezing without it.”

I drop my gaze to her bare legs, silky and gleaming with some kind of body oil she used after she got out of the shower. “Are your legs cold? I’ll give you some sweats.”

“I’m okay.” She tilts her head. “How do you stand all this…anticipation?”

“It’s only the second time I’ve had to do it. Last time was much worse. I really didn’t know what to expect.” I lower my voice. “I didn’t have you.”

“I’m here now. And I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day.”

I lean close to her ear, really not wanting anyone to overhear this. “Thank you for helping me add the new training session to my afternoons this week.”

The corners of her mouth twitch and she slides a coy glance my way. “Oh, it was definitely my pleasure.”

I pop a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Gloves on,” Underhill calls out.

My stomach clenches. We’re closer to showtime.

He helps me slide the regulation gloves over my taped hands. Another official comes into the locker room and wraps red tape around my wrists, then scribbles his signature across it in black Sharpie marker.

I glance at the television screen where Magic’s walkout is about to start. “Is that the theme from Halloween he’s using?”

Eraser shakes his head. “What a douche.”

Arena security guys in black blazers line up outside the locker room door.

Molly grabs her high-heeled silver sandals and starts strapping them on her feet. I flash my gloved hands at her. “I’d help you, but…”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I got it.”

Underhill rolls his eyes.

I tap my fist against his shoulder in warning.

Molly grabs her stuff and hurries to my side. I hold out my hand and she taps her fist against my palm.

“Mr. Royal, it’s time,” one of the security guards says.

Remy and Eraser enter the hallway first. I shake my shoulders and roll my head from side to side, then follow, with Molly right next to me.

Underhill and his assistant come out last.

Bright camera lights hit my face. I squint and slant my arm over my eyes, wishing I’d thought to bring sunglasses.

Molly taps something against my arm. I glance down.

Sunglasses.

“You’re like a magic genie.” I take them from her carefully and slip them on. “Thank you.”

“I remembered how bad those lights were at the reunion and just in case…”

I put my arm around her quickly and pop a kiss on her cheek, not really caring if dozens of cameras film it and people mock me for the display tomorrow.

“What’s the holdup?” Remy asks one of the security guys.

The big dude exhales a long, weary breath. “Magic takes a lap around the entire arena.”

The security guards part ways and Dawson appears with his own security following behind him. Jesus Christ, I’ve got more men in black surrounding me than the president.

“How’re ya feelin’ tonight?” Dawson holds out his hand and I awkwardly wrap my gloved paw around it for a quick shake.

“Best I’ve ever felt.” I dip my chin. “Thanks for doing this.”

With all the trash talk this week and the massive odds against me, having a legit celebrity like Dawson show his support gave people something to gossip about besides how dumb I am for thinking I can take on an athlete like Magic so early in my career.

“Thanks for using my song for your walk out,” he says.

It hadn’t really felt like I had a choice. I like country music occasionally, but it really doesn’t feel “skull punch-y” enough. Then Dawson played Call Me The Underdog for me, and I revised my opinion.

A big blond head appears above the crowd gathered in the hallway. People shift and step aside for Wrath to enter our circle.

“Hey, big guy.” Dawson glances up and holds out his hand. “Been a minute.”

“It has. We’re sorry we missed the ride with you guys the other day.” He turns toward me and runs his gaze over me. “You look strong.”

That’s high praise coming from Wrath.

“Feel it.” I tap my fists together. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wasn’t missing this, although,” he casts a pointed look at Eraser, Remy, Molly, and then me, “I’m insulted you don’t have one of those snazzy purple hoodies in my size.”

Dawson chokes on a laugh. “That’s gonna be a special order.”

“Next time,” I promise him.

Wrath nods hello to Molly, then shifts his shrewd eyes my way again. “She walking out with us?”

Christ, is he going to tell me she shouldn’t be part of this too?

“Yeah,” I answer warily.

He nods quickly like he’s revising his plan. “I’m gonna walk behind her and to the outside. Remy will be in front of her and Eraser in front of you and to your left. That work?”

No judgment. Thank you.I blow out a breath and nod.

Molly lifts her phone and takes a quick sideways selfie of us.

A low rumble from the arena vibrates through the halls. Security and the camera guys start moving.

This is it.

I flip my hood up over my head. The guys ahead of me start moving and I give them a few feet before following. I move to the center, throw a few fists, bend my knees, strike, and basically shadow box my way down the hallway.

Molly hurries to keep up, her face a mask of concentration.

We reach the final hallway leading into the arena.

I turn to Molly. “Your seats are by the cage door, right?”

“Yes.” She holds up her phone. “Shelby and Trinity are there now.”

“Stay with me through the pre-check, until I go in the cage, okay?”

She nods quickly and doesn’t ask why.

The first notes of Dawson’s song start. It’s slow, rumbling— almost ominous—then it explodes into a powerful, grinding guitar riff.

I time my entrance into the corridor to the music, then march my way to the center of the arena.

With each step, my focus tunnels down to one thing—a trembling in my stomach, that spreads to my fists.

My blood runs hot with the need for victory.