As I walk into the circle, I loosen up my shoulders as one of the gym owners steps up and shouts, “Battez-vous!”
The crowd starts cheering, hollering loudly as my opponent charges at me with fists drawn. I deftly evade a one-two punch by ducking and maneuvering out of the way. For the first two minutes of the fight, I am on the defensive. He’s big and strong but not as nimble as I am.
Finally, after dodging more swings than I can count, I lay ina hard punch to his rib cage. He jerks and winces before swinging for my face and making painful contact.
In the distance, I hear Freya yelp.
My damage to his ribs definitely lightened the blow of his fist, but it was hard enough to jar me. Quickly recovering, I move away from him, hands up and ready to block another punch.
I’m not worried. I’ll win. Ialwayswin.
This guy just caught me off guard.
As the fight continues, I feel my legs and arms start to burn with exertion. The lack of warm-up and preparation is starting to show.
When I do eventually get a good punch in against the guy’s face, it doesn’t carry the same power behind it I normally feel. That’s when I begin to worry.
Rex is shouting at me from the sidelines, but all I can hear are Freya’s yelps and screams. This was a bad idea. I never should have brought her here.
I should have known this guy’s unfair weight gain would have the crowd in a pissed-off mood. If I lose, it will be pandemonium in here.
I can’t lose.
Idon’tlose.
With a resounding roar and what little energy I have left, I throw it all at him. I wear out my shoulder fast, swinging wildly at him. It’s a Hail Mary, but it works.
For a second.
He stumbles, blood pouring from his nose. I expect him to go down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes it off and comes at me with twice as much stamina.
Throwing an uppercut makes me vulnerable, and he takes the shot. The hit he lands against my face hurts. Like hell.
The ground comes up to meet me fast. Before I know it, my face is pressed against the dirty floor, and my ears are buzzing.
“Get up, Archer!” Rex shouts, getting on the floor to look into my eyes.
“Archer!” Freya screams.
I can’t let them see me lose. I can’t fucking lose.
When the other fighter moves toward me, I anticipate the kick to my rib cage and block it. My hands ache with the impact, but at least I can get on my feet again while he recovers.
Blinking, I find Julian in the crowd. He’s holding Freya while she buries her face in his shirt. If it kills me, I have to win this fight. I can’t let her see me lose.
Rex moves into my line of sight. “Stay on his right side. His left swing is slower.”
I nod my head, willing myself to finish this fight. I could have stayed down. I had the opportunity to tap out and end it, but I didn’t.
There is no choice. I have to win, not only for myself but because if I don’t, I don’t know how this crowd will react. It could get very dangerous in here.
Shaking off the pain vibrating through my head and down my spine, I face him again. This time, I watch his movements like I would if I were prepping for a match. His left arm is slower. The less momentum and power I give him, the better.
So I stick to his right side, easily blocking his punches. Blood seeps into my eye, and I quickly shake it away. I let him tire himself out for a while, and the crowd is tiring out too. They’re getting frustrated with us. They wanted this to be an easy match, but it’s not. Hell, I did too.
After he throws a weak punch, I see my opening. With a fire burning in my shoulder, I lay into him. Swing after swing, I never give him the opportunity to recover. The crowd is wild, shouting and cheering so loud I’m sure it could be heard halfway across France.
But all I hear is screams.
