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Don’t get it twisted—I stay in excellent shape. I work out hard five days a week, I run and lift and make sure I’m in top form.

For a bodyguard.

Not for a professional fighter.

And this guy I’m fighting? He’s hardcore.

Bronco is two years older than me and he’s the guy I beat the first year I won the championship. Then he moved up to the next weight class, so we didn’t fight again. But I hurt for days after that fight. And I was a lot younger then. I also know for a fact he was using illegal steroids to bulk up. He’d just started using synthetic steroids when we fought—he should have been the weight class below mine—and in following his career afterward, he kept getting bigger.

He’s got the shortest average fight time in all of the UFC—two minutes, fifteen seconds. Most of his wins are stoppages with quick knockouts. He’s something of a legend, so though I’m not afraid of him, I still need to be cautious.

And prepared.

I turn to Eric and throw a few punches, bouncing on my toes as I try to get into the groove. It’s tough to spar with my friends because they’re tough but they’re not professional fighters. It’s different. I don’t want to hurt anyone, so I hold back and that’s not going to help me prep for the fight.

As much as it pains me, I’m going to have to find someone to train with who’s at another level than my colleagues. Someone who’ll give me a run for my money. I don’t think Garth is the right guy, but there are others who might. Like the two guys fighting in the weight class just below mine.

Toby Shaw and Darren Tyler are the ones fighting in that weight class, and tomorrow I’m going to see if I can get in touch with Toby. He lives in L.A. and might be willing to throw some punches with me. He probably needs someone to spar with as well, since he’s been retired for a little longer than I have. I’m kind of surprised he’s still as big as he is, but some guys are born that way while others have to take drugs to get there.

First thing tomorrow, I’m reaching out to Garth to see if he’ll give me a way to reach Toby.

It’s time to get serious about training.

Everything else will have to wait.

We roll into L.A. just before lunch on Wednesday. Grim and Allora drove in her convertible while Luna and I rode in my SUV, but now we’re going to split up. The ladies are going to catch up with Candy, and Grim and I are meeting Toby at the gym he owns. Tonight is the press conference and we’re going to do some promotional videos at the gym that will highlight us in training. It’s supposed to be low-key but I don’t know what to expect. I met Toby a couple of times back in the day but we weren’t friends or anything.

“Hey, man.” He greets me when we walk in with his hand extended.

“Good to see you.” I shake his hand. “Thank you for the invite.”

“Absolutely. I lost my mom to cervical cancer so I’m happy to do something for the cause.”

I nod. “Cool.”

“All right, you can change back there.” He motions with his hand. “We’re keeping this totally chill. It’s just one guy with a camera, no press or anything. Obviously, this will be somewhat staged for the videos but we can certainly get a real workout in.”

“I’d like that.”

“Nothing too strenuous since we have to be at the presser by six-thirty.”

I nod.

Grim and I move to the back, and I get changed. He seems distracted, checking his phone, and I glance at him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods but doesn’t look up as he types something. “Just some stuff going on with Metal. He’s been out of control, according to Silver. Allora has been meaning to check on him, but she’s been busy with work too.” Allora’s a former model and actress who’s a successful photographer now and she travels a lot for her job.

I haven’t been doing much of anything, though, and I feel a twinge of guilt. I haven’t thought about Metal or the sex workers all week. I know the club has been diligent in being out on the street with the girls but they can’t do that indefinitely. It’s not my problem, but I’m a human being who doesn’t think those poor women deserve to be murdered.

“Is there anything we can do?” I ask, pulling on my fingerless gloves.

“You just think about the fight. I’m talking with Daniil now, getting updates.”

It annoys me that I can’t do both.

Shadow Security isn’t just a job—I’m a part-owner—and the club isn’t just a group of people that don’t mean anything to us. Allora keeps her distance but that’s still part of her history, as well as the biggest part of her father’s life. We now have a relationship with the club and with Metal in particular, so I feel bad that I haven’t checked on him.