¦
Two days later, Griff nearly kills us with his MMA drills. By the time we're done, my shirt is soaked through and every muscle screams. But instead of dismissing us, Griff stands at the center of the mat, clipboard in hand, and announces the start of selections for the inter-academy tournament.
It happens every year. He selects eight to ten of us. A chance to compete against other facilities, and more importantly, a few days away from Aspire. I went once, my second year, but I don't care about it the way some of them do.
I flex my hands inside my gloves and wait.
I scan the room, find Liam near the back. He wouldn't compete, he's barely started. His eyes meet mine, and he gives me that smile. Having him watch makes me nervous and stupidly happy at the same time.
"Ethan," Griff calls. "You're up next."
I step forward, rolling my shoulders. Before Griff can assign me an opponent, a voice cuts through.
"I'll take him."
The room goes silent. Reed steps onto the mat. That grin, thekind that could land him in a psych ward. We haven't spoken since the fight over Liam. The bruise on his jaw has faded to sickly yellow. My split lip has barely healed.
My stomach drops. I keep my face neutral.
Reed is the best fighter at Aspire. Undefeated in three years of tournaments. He wants my neck. I'm good, but not that good, and we both know it.
"Alright," Griff says, eyeing us with suspicion. "Remember, this is a demonstration match."
Reed nods without looking at Griff. Barely contained violence in every line of his body. He's been waiting for this, a sanctioned chance to hurt me without consequences. The guy is massive. Spends all day working out. I wouldn't be surprised if he takes steroids, it'd be easy enough for him to get his hands on some, since no one touches him.
I can't back down in front of everyone.
We touch gloves. A formality. The last time I touched Reed, it was my fist on his jaw because he couldn't keep his hands off Liam. Now he's going to make me pay, and there's nothing I can do except try to stay on my feet.
We circle each other. I keep my guard high, Reed favors overhands and elbows. He feints, testing my reactions. When the first combination comes, I'm ready. Block the jab, slip the cross, counter with a quick leg kick that connects with his thigh.
Surprise crosses Reed's face. Replaced immediately by something unhinged. His next combination comes faster, harder. I block most of it, but a hook slips through and catches my jaw, snapping my head sideways. The shock reverberates through my system. I recover. Circle away.
His next attack is blistering, a series of strikes pushing me toward the edge of the mat. I block what I can, absorbing impacts with my forearms, shoulders, returning fire where possible. A knee slams into my ribs with far more force than any demonstration requires. The air leaves my lungs. I struggle tomaintain my guard as Reed presses forward. An elbow cracks against my forearm. Then another slips past, connecting with my eyebrow. Hot wetness trickles into my eye. Blood. The salt-copper taste fills my mouth as Reed lands another blow to my chest. I gasp, vision narrowing to just Reed's fists, the mat beneath me, blood dripping onto the surface.
"Reed! Ease up!" Griff's voice cuts through. "This is a demonstration, not a street fight!"
Reed doesn't glance at Griff. His focus is absolute. I launch a desperate counter, spinning elbow that creates space. For a second, I think I've bought myself room.
Wrong.
Reed charges forward, abandoning any pretense of control. A right hook rocks me, legs suddenly unsteady. I try to clinch, slow the onslaught. Reed breaks away, drives another knee into my ribs. I hear a crack. Pain so sharp it whites out my vision.
"Reed! That's enough!" Griff is moving toward us.
I'm still on my feet. Somehow. Guard faltering, blood from my eyebrow running into my eye, turning everything red. Reed's face swims in and out of focus, his smile growing wider with each strike. He lands a final punch square on my face. Pain explodes. I land on my knees. The mat vibrates through my body.
Griff is between us instantly, arm extended. "Back off, Hoffman. Now!"
Reed stands over me, chest heaving, eyes wild with satisfaction. Blood drips from my face onto the mat. Small, perfect circles of red.
"Ethan, go to the nurse," Griff orders, voice softening. "Jack, help him."
"I can walk myself," I say. A drop of pride is all I have left.
Griff gives me a look that might be respect or pity, I can't tell through the blood. "Nurse. Now."
I push to my feet, fighting the dizziness. Reed watches with that predatory smile. Victorious. As I limp toward the door, I catch Liam's face in the crowd. Pale. Blue eyes wide with shock.
