Page 65 of Fight

Nineteen

Ioan

There wasa buzz of energy in the air tonight, one that I diligently kept myself from getting caught in.

Tough, considering what today meant, but I tried to block out everything and keep my mind focused on the moments ahead.

Markov droned on, hyping the already buzzing crowd, the barker of this demented carnival.

And, then, finally, it was time.

My opponent tonight was good. He was also enormous, several inches taller than me with thirty pounds of muscle heavier. His size wasn’t his only advantage. I’d seen him fight before, and he was crafty, relied on his wits and not his size to gain an advantage over his opponents. And like me, he’d never lost.

That would end tonight.

When Markov stepped from between us, I rushed him, moving before he could react. He’d seen me too, thought that I would be cautious, lie back and wait for him to attack.

Not tonight.

I grabbed his shoulders, my arms trapping his against his body and kneed him so hard, I felt the air rush from his lungs.

He doubled over, but recovered quickly, using his shoulder to drive me back and then down.

I hadn’t seen him take a breath, but he was still on the offense. Knee bent, he dropped his entire weight against my ribs, driving my breath from me. Had I not twisted away at the last second, he would have crushed my chest, a move I would never have recovered from.

My position now was far from certain.

He’d partially pinned me, his knee still crushing my ribs as he punched. The first punch rattled my teeth, and the second set off a low hum in my ear that got louder with each blow after it.

I struggled mightily, trying to dislodge him. If I did, I’d have a chance. If I didn’t…

I met the man’s eyes and saw utter calm in them. I had no idea why he was here, what drove him. Maybe money, maybe something else. Whatever his reason, he was completely focused, not wild with emotion. He had put aside any thought at all save killing me.

He swung again, but this time I blocked him, my arm lifting before I had a conscious thought. Still holding his arm, I pushed, lifting his weight just enough to allow me to free myself. My lungs flooded with air, breaths deep, my chest expanding freely now that he wasn’t crushing it.

I tried to keep my breath as calm as I could though, and focus as my opponent did. He had his reasons for being here, and I had mine.

One reason, one person.

I wouldn’t fail her.

My opponent was still calm, and once I got away, he changed his approach, slamming his knee against my ribs. The pain took the breath I had so recently regained, by I ignored the hurt and the dull throb that stayed after and sprung at him, driving him back.

We were both on our knees, both panting, but neither of us gave.

Instead, moving at the same time, we lunged toward each other, colliding midway in a flurry of fists. I vaguely noticed how quiet the crowd was. This kind of ugly fight wasn’t nearly as entertaining, but I didn’t give a fuck. I was in the fight of my life, the fight of hers, and nothing but victory mattered.

He wasn’t going to make it easy.

I hit him hard, relentless even with my arms beginning to tire. He was equally relentless, matching me blow for blow.

Then my chance came.

I’d landed punch after punch against his ribs, and finally, one gave. He flinched, grunted, and most importantly, reached toward the injury, probably on instinct more than anything else.

He instantly realized his error, but it was too late. I sprang toward him, driving my fist into his neck. I jammed the heel of one hand in the softness under his jaw and grabbed the top of his head with the other. Then, hands tight on his head, I twisted with all my might, the pop of his neck breaking almost silent against the muted noise of the audience.

I held him as he collapsed and then finally let him drop to the ground.