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Eleven rounds later, my so-called Ewani underdog looked worse for wear. He’d put up a good fight, though, and despite many attempts to lock me into his deadly thrash, I’d managed to get out time and again.
It was always in the fight I found my focus. Good thing, too, because the glare I saw from across the ring before the final round told me to be on my guard.
“Don’t let him rile you.” Ryrik rubbed the sweat from my shoulders. “Don’t let him cross and you won’t get pulled into the thrash.”
The final bell dinged, signaling the end of our conversation.
Rakuta breathed heavily in front of me. He seemed braced to come at me in a big rush to lock me into his kill move.
“Jalik!” I heard a voice in the crowd, and for a stupid second, my brain rattled with the hope that Serena was the owner. It broke my focus.
Rakuta broke the line. He came into my space, hugging me in a defensive hold so I couldn’t use my arms. Then, throwing me back, he headbutted me, sending my senses flaring around the room.
Damn. I didn’t have Ryrik prep my cranium for any blows, and the hit was more than enough to send me reeling around the ring.
Rakuta wasted no time coming in for the death thrash. He caught my chest at ultra-speed, landing blow after blow until I couldn’t count them anymore.
“Hold off!” the ref screamed, but Rakuta clocked him in the jaw. He was out cold.
“Thrash! Thrash!” came the roar from the nose-bleed section. I knew I had to rally.
Rally or die.
“Holy hell, folks! Jalik is taking this beating like he isn’t even fazed!” the commentator said.
Like any good performer, I put on a show and gave the people what they wanted. The Under folk would get to see their hero look good for a moment. Everyone else would get to see him hit the floor.
His next blow hit me like a feather to the gut. I grabbed his wrist and swung him around into the ropes. When he came back, I jabbed a crisp, clean uppercut to his jaw.
“And he’s down!” the commentator said. “The ref is back up! Eight. Nine. Ten! Jalik wins again!”
The ref threw up my arm in victory. The crowd went insane, and confetti blew around the arena.
“Nice job, Jalik!” I heard Draven meet me through the crowd. “Almost thought we lost you for a minute.”
“Jalik! Jalik!” My Monion fangirl club raced to congratulate me at the ropes.
“Jalik, you were amazing. Let me buy you a drink.” Another stunning Mondion girl came close to me. It was tempting. I was a free Vinduthi, after all. Wasn’t I?
“No, let me, Jalik. I want to ask you about your technique in the ring,” Her equally appealing friend pushed her way in.
Old me would’ve taken them both to the bar and made a night of it.
Old me hadn’t met Serena.
I held up my hand and brushed past them.
I took myself back to my dressing room to change for the night. Hands grabbed at me on my way through the crowds, but that night, I couldn’t make time for my fans.
When I found myself alone, sitting in my usual end-of-day ice bath, I had nothing more to distract me from the issue at hand. The night’s victory felt like nothing. Unless I had her to share it with, why bother at all?
My mind wound back to the change in Serena, trying to recount when it first began.
The apartment. It was what I couldn’t make sense of. I needed answers. I was determined to figure out if her sudden disappearance was related to the set of keys I gave her. Or maybe I just saw something that wasn’t there.
I pulled my percomm across the ice bath and sent her a feeler message.
You down to kick it tonight?
