Val nodded. Her heartbeats thudded through her like a jackhammer’s blows. “Okay. Okay.”
The ref shouted, striving to make himself heard above the crowd. Henry shoved her away. Val turned and focused on her opponent, a toned man who perfectly matched her height and weight. He grinned, flashing a red mouthguard that made him look like he’d been drinking blood.
“What’s up, bitch?” he whispered. “Think you can make it in this world? I’ll teach you a lesson.”
Val returned the grin as her heartbeat slowed. The crowd faded. “Oh, yeah? Is your lesson called ‘how not to do it?’”
The guy frowned, trying to figure that one out, and the ref pushed between them. He held out his hand. “Clean fight, you two. Ready? Fight!”
His hand dropped, and Val charged. The beautiful man emitted a pained grunt when her shoulder slammed into his chest. He stumbled back, scrabbling to keep his feet, and Val kept coming. Her force drove him against the padded cage. His gloves thudded on her back and shoulders, but Val responded with a series of vicious hooks into his belly, gloves slapping the hardened muscles.
The guy’s knee smashed into her cheekbone, and her face exploded with pain. Val stumbled back, fighting the scarlet fog as it descended. No. We’re not going to kill that son-of-a-bitch, she reminded her amulet as it warmed on her skin. Only humiliate his ass.
She danced back and sideways, avoiding hook after hook as her opponent came after her. When her vision cleared and the pain dulled to a distant throb, Val struck again. Her kick landed on the back of his calf and knocked him to his knees. Before he could react, Val landed an uppercut on his jaw that flipped him. He skidded across the floor, limp, eyes rolling back.
“That’s how it’s done, bitch!” Val roared.
The ref sprang between her and her unconscious opponent. He shook his head and gestured.
“It’s a KO!” the announcer shrieked. “Valerie Stonehold is not here to play, folks! She’s here to fight!”
Henry seized her arm before the ref could reach Val and hoisted it above her head, almost dislocating her shoulder in his excitement. Archibald, Buck, Liam, and Isabella leaped up and down in the front row, screaming hysterically in their matching T-shirts. Val couldn’t decide if it was awesome or embarrassing.
Henry stayed by her side for the fights that followed, plaguing her with water and snacks she didn’t want, offering useless advice, and yelling at rowdy guys in the locker room. Val’s opponents were sturdy, so the first guy was her only KO of the night. Henry plied his ice pack numerous times during the next couple of fights. None of her opponents lasted more than one round before they desperately tapped out of holds they couldn’t escape.
Her penultimate opponent tried to get out of a chokehold by slamming his elbow into her jaw. It didn’t work, but Val had blood in her mouth as she sat in the locker room, awaiting her final fight.
“You sure you’re okay?” Henry asked for the hundredth time. “Head injuries are no joke, Val. You’re not fighting again if you’ve had your bell rung.”
“C’mon, Henry.” Val rinsed her mouth with water and spat blood. “You play ice hockey. Toughen up.”
“Uh-uh. None of that toxic machismo, thanks,” Henry told her firmly. “Traumatic brain injuries have ruined too many lives in my sport. I won’t let it happen to you.”
Val inclined her head. “Point taken, but don’t sweat it. My head’s fine. I just have a loose tooth.”
“Okay.” Henry’s grin returned. “Ready to hear about this guy?”
Val nodded. “Sure.”
“He’s called Diego ‘Left Hook’ Lopez, named for a punch that comes out of nowhere and finishes his fights.” Henry quickly scrolled through the information on his phone. “He used to fight pro but retired several years ago and moved to New York City to be closer to his family. When MMA was legalized in NYC in 2016, Lopez rejoined the MMA scene as an amateur.”
“He’s older, then?” Val asked.
“In his forties, but don’t write him off because of that,” Henry cautioned. “He’s still badass.”
The official called her name, and Val rose. Henry took her water bottle and slapped her on the back. “Watch that left hand,” he yelled as they hurried into the dim hallway.
“You’re getting good at this coaching stuff,” Val returned.
Henry’s grin dispelled the gloom.
Val didn’t allow herself to look at the announcer or hear the crowd’s feverish roars. Her opponent was in the cage when she arrived, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his fists to rile the crowd up. A tangle of salt-and-pepper chest hair and the smiling wrinkles around his eyes betrayed Diego Lopez’s age, but his physique was that of a man ten years younger. Powerful muscles stood out like knotted ropes on his chest and shoulders. Solid, wiry calves topped his agile feet.
“Shit,” Val muttered.
“You got this,” Henry growled.
The ref called, and Val and Diego faced each other. His quick, dark eyes scanned her in a way that made her feel like he was analyzing her. He grinned and nodded, and Val saw something in his eyes that worried her: a total lack of arrogance.
Arrogant fighters made sloppy mistakes. Val realized this guy was the most dangerous kind of fighter: he was brilliant and humble.
The ref dropped his hand, and Val swung hard–her first mistake. Diego blocked the blow and slipped aside like a fish in water. He landed a swift jab on her ribs as she whirled to face him, and she knew he’d spotted her weaknesses.
Val chuckled. She looked forward to fighting the first unarmed human who might be able to defeat her.
They circled one another for several heartbeats. Diego changed direction twice, his gaze darting to her feet, testing her. Val kept her fists raised and waited for his strike. The crowd’s roar was as distant as the sound of the sea on a quiet morning.
Diego charged with several lightning-fast jabs in a row. Val’s left hand blocked slower than her right, and he took full advantage of that. His small fists pummeled her left ribs and belly in quick succession. Val struck a flat-handed blow that landed on his shoulder, forcing him back several steps.
Instead of trying to recover, Diego kept the momentum, bouncing back on the balls of his feet. Val knew better than to go after him. She crouched, hands raised, and waited for him to come at her. This guy was agile and quick, and he knew how to punch. Her ribs throbbed as she watched him.
“Go on, Val!” Liam roared from the front row. “Get him!”
Diego charged again, and Val was ready. She dodged his jabs and swung a savage haymaker. He ducked it, and she didn’t see his fist coming. It slammed into her solar plexus hard enough to double her over, and he didn’t let up. His gloves slammed into her temples, cheeks, and jaw. Her ears rang, blood filled her mouth from that loose tooth again, and as she tried to stumble out of his way, her feet felt numb.
The scarlet fog threatened the corners of her vision, but she forced it back. No throwing anyone through the cage this time.
Val raised her fists, and Diego’s next blow landed on her forearm. She ducked his punches, spun, and landed her elbow on the inside of his thigh. He fell to one knee, and Val let a right hook fly toward his face.
