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He bared his teeth, eyes wild. “Can’t,” he panted. “Gotta win.”

He caught me with a left that kissed the edge of my bruise, white spark exploding in my vision. I saw red for half a second.

Enough.

I tightened up my guard, stopped trying to teach, and started trying to end it. I used my reach, my weight, picked my shots. Jab, jab, low kick to his thigh to knock him off balance, cross. When he charged in again, I slipped to the side and caught him with a short hook he never saw coming.

His legs went out.

He hit the canvas…what was I thinking? He hit the cement with a thud that rattled my teeth just from the sound of it.

He stirred, groaned, rolled to his side.

The ref was on him in a second, counting, checking pupils, waving it off. “That’s it,” he said. “He’s done.”

The whistle blew.

Noise crashed over us — cheers, groans, someone shouting about losing fifty bucks.

I stood there, chest heaving, gloves hanging heavy at my sides, and tried not to throw up.

Tyler flopped onto his back, staring at the rafters. “Shit,” he whispered.

I pulled my gloves off with my teeth and offered him a hand. “Come on,” I said. “Sit up before you drown in your own sweat.”

He let me haul him up, grimacing. “I had you,” he mumbled. “For a second.”

“You did,” I said honestly. “You fought hard.”

“Not hard enough,” he said bitterly.

Maurice appeared like a bad thought, clapping slowly.

“Not bad,” he said to me. “Not bad at all. Ring sense, composure, you know how to protect an injury. I like that.”

He turned his gaze to Tyler and the warmth vanished.

“You,” he said. “What the hell was that in the first round? You holding a tea party out there?”

Color flooded Tyler’s face, shame and panic mixing. “I got caught up,” he said quickly. “I can do better. I swear. Give me one more shot, I’ll show you⁠—”

Maurice snorted. “I’m not in the charity business, kid. I put you on a card, you fold like a lawn chair, it’s my ass. Sponsors don’t like soft fighters.”

“I’m not soft,” Tyler protested, voice shaking. “Please. My wife’s pregnant. We’re behind on rent. I need this.”

The words hit me like a punch I hadn’t braced for.

Wife. Baby on the way. Desperate for money. Willing to let strangers beat the shit out of him for a shot at keeping the lights on.

I knew that flavor of panic. Different details, same taste.

Maurice looked bored. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, which translated in any language to I won’t. “Maybe I’ve got a spot for you if someone else drops. But if I call, you better show me something more than what I saw tonight. You don’t get a third chance.”

Tyler swallowed, nodding too fast. “Yes, sir. Thank you. I won’t let you down. I swear.”

Maurice was already turning away, interest gone. At least until he saw a way to take advantage of the kid’s desperation.

My stomach rolled.