Thirty seconds left. I threw a cross that landed clean. His mouthguard flew. He staggered.
I followed with a hook, another cross, and a knee when he dropped his guard.
He went down.
The referee waved it off and the fight was over.
I'd won.
The realization hit delayed and filtered through exhaustion and blood loss and pain that made everything distant.
The referee raised my hand. Someone wrapped the championship belt around my waist. The crowd noise became a roar that shook the building.
I'd done it and won the title. I'd proved I still belonged at the top despite age and damage and everyone who'd said I was past my prime.
My eyes searched the crowd and looked for Troy, looked for the one person whose opinion actually mattered.
Then the lights went out.
Not flickering or dimming. Just gone. The entire arena plunged into darkness so complete I couldn't see my own hands.
Screaming started immediately with the panic that came from thousands of people losing their sense of safety all at once.
Then gunfire erupted.
The sound was unmistakable with sharp cracks cutting through the darkness. It was close and too fucking close.
My brain shifted gears and went from fighter mode to survival mode. Every instinct screamed at me to find Troy.
Emergency lights kicked on with dim red glow that turned everything into shadows and chaos. People were stampeding toward exits and crushing each other and screaming.
I shoved through the crowd. My body was failing with ribs screaming and head swimming. Blood ran into my eyes from the cut that had opened wider during the celebration.
None of it mattered. I needed to find Troy.
More gunfire came closer this time. I saw muzzle flashes in the darkness and saw armed men moving through the crowd with purpose.
They were heading toward the VIP section where Troy had been sitting.
I moved faster and threw myself through the crowd. I used my size to clear a path and didn't care who I knocked over or trampled.
An armed man appeared in front of me and raised his weapon. I didn't think. I just reacted.
I grabbed his wrist and twisted. I felt bones snap. He screamed. I drove my elbow into his face. He went down.
Another one came with a knife this time. He came at me fast. I blocked the first slash and took the second one across my forearm. Pain registered distantly.
I caught his wrist and pulled him into a knee that folded him in half. I took the knife and drove it into his thigh.
He went down screaming.
I kept moving. My hands were slick with blood, my blood and their blood, and I couldn't tell anymore.
The VIP section was chaos. I saw Dmitri first and moving like a hurricane through armed men, putting them down with brutal efficiency.
Luka was there with a gun in hand and firing with calm precision. Ash was beside him covering his six.
And Troy was fighting hand to hand with two men at once and moving like violence was a second language, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
