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A punch to my core.
A kick to the side of my head.
The previous cut above my eye had been opened, blood clouding my vision. I closed the one eye shut and focused on my opponent with the other.
The pain should have bothered me. I should have felt it. But instead, I was numb. I couldn’t feel a damn thing.
I allowed Frankie to knock me back to the ground. It’d be more realistic if he won that way since he was a decent wrestler.
He locked me in a choke hold, and I shut my eyes. I resisted a little for show, grabbing his hands near my throat, but I knew this would be it. I’d tap out, and it’d be over. Well, that would be it for now. When Donovan decided to pull my strings again, I’d have to oblige.
Abby’s face came to mind, and my body stirred.
Then I remembered Conor. And Chloe. Anna, of course. The visit to the horse farm jumped front and center to my mind. A pain worse than any blow from Frankie struck me hard thinking about them. There’d never be another trip.
I snapped back to reality, to Frankie’s hold tightening around my throat. I was losing too much oxygen. If I didn’t tap out soon, I’d pass out. My eyes flashed open and my fingers loosened around Frankie’s grip . . .
And then I saw her.
Anna was standing outside the ring. Her fingers were wrapped around the chain fence, clinging to it as if she were going to actually climb it, to come in and rescue me.
Stars started to scatter before my eyes, and a flash of blackness became a veil before me.
And then I did something completely stupid. To be honest, I’m not sure how it was even possible.
But still, I fought back.
Somehow, I twisted out of Frankie’s hold and managed to get to my feet. I could hear the roars of the crowd now. I could hear every sound, including Anna’s voice.
“Adam,” she cried, gripping the wire.
And at that moment, I knew what I had to do.
Frankie stood with his guard raised—eying me cautiously.
I brought my hands back up and curled them in front of me. I flicked my wrists, waving him on. “Come and get me,” I mouthed.
Frankie barreled toward me, but I caught him with my right fist and followed hard with a left hook. I jumped up into the air with all my strength and my knee connected with his jaw—a flying knee knockout.
Frankie flew to the ground—lights out. Game over.
The ref waved his hands in the air as his whistle blew.
I stared down at Frankie for a moment, and then I looked over my shoulder at Anna. Her hands covered her mouth as she stared back at me, her eyes a liquid green.
The crowd was hollering. Roaring.
Too bad their joy wouldn’t last.
I snatched the mic from the announcer as he came into the ring, ready to declare me as the winner. I tipped my head at him in apology and then looked out into the crowd, tossing my bloody mouth guard to the floor as I searched for the strength to do what needed to be done.
“I need your attention,” I shouted as Frankie staggered to the stairs and exited the ring.
My heart raced in my chest, and I prayed to God that this would work.
“Donovan Hannigan”—I said his name slowly—“is a lying, thieving sack of shite.” I pointed out to where Donovan had been standing before.
He was gone. He’d just lost millions, thanks to my win.
