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Another boulder disguised as a hand gets flung at my face, but I duck before it lands.

“Even if you’re in the hospital?” Dex asks with what sounds like legit fear in his voice.

Where’s that confidence from a moment ago?

“Even if I’m in the fucking morgue!”

Despite the commotion, I hear Dex’s groan. Considering he’s not the one being actively hunted in a locked enclosure, he should really tone down the fucking attitude.

Jesus, why did I agree to this matchup?

Because I’m tired of the deficit I was born into. I want out. All the way out. For the first time in my life, I want more for myself. And I’m gonna do whatever I have to to get it.

The first two rounds a complete blur, I go into the third gassed. To be honest, I’m not even sure how I managed to survive this long. With my mind somewhere else entirely, I’ve been making stupid moves at every turn. I’ve already taken a couple dozen hits. My nose is stuffed up, probably broken, and I swear to God, my jaw feels off-center.

But if I’m gassed, then Borys must be, too. Those couple dozen hits I took were out of at least a couple hundred thrown at me. Not only that, I made his ass chase me around the cage for the last ten minutes. I’m really banking on him not having another five in him.

As soon as I spot my opening, I’m taking my shot. Hopefully it’ll have a nice boost of power behind it, so it knocks Borys out cold and I can get home to Kota as quickly as possible. She hasn’t called, which is good. That means she’s fast asleep, exactly like she’s supposed to be. I just wish I could verify that with my own eyes. It’s the not knowing for absolute certain that’s keeping my head out of this fight. That and checking with Dex every ten seconds for an update.

Soon. This’ll be over soon. Less than five minutes technically, because I’m not letting this shit go to decision. Either I knock his ass out or he knocks me out, that’s the only way this is ending. I learned my lesson the one and only time I left an unsanctioned fight in the hands of the judges. Unlicensed, these judges could be anybody, even a banker with no MMA knowledge whatsoever.

The whistle spurs me into action and I cross the mat to meet Borys halfway. Thankfully, he’s not moving nearly as fast as he was. If he’s not gassed, he’s written me off, which would be a big mistake because I don’t give up.

We spar a bit, exchanging blows that don’t do much damage to either recipient.

He’s tired. Not depleted but definitely tired.

I could shoot at his legs, take my chances grappling with him. He’s just so big. I don’t want to risk him getting on top and gaining the advantage.

More tuned into Dex’s voice than Borys’s movements, I instantly pick up on my friend’s growled curse.

“What?” I’m quick to ask him.

“Nothing. Just…finish this shit.”

“You don’t think I’m trying?” I grit under my breath.

“No.”

I give my head a wobble. That’s fair. I’ve been more defensive than offensive.

Because I’m distracted. By her.

Her? Wait… A blonde in the crowd catches my eye. Is that…

Because, I mean, it couldn’t be. There’s no fucking way it could. Could it?

Two consecutive strikes to Borys’s face makes him stumble back enough for me to focus on the blonde who is not—abso-fucking-lutely not—supposed to be here, but somehow, is.

Frowning, hair up in a messy-ass bun, straight outta bed and probably even in her slippers, Kota Rhodes is staring back at me. More like glaring. Her arms are even crossed.

“Dex!” I roar without looking away from my storm cloud of a girl.

“I know!” Further away I hear him bellow, “Tina!”

Beside Kota, Tina leans in to tell her something.

So that’s why he cussed. He saw them before I did.