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“Scared?” Kayla asks.

“Of you? No.”

“You just don’t want to be shown up by a girl.”

Vero drops from the top of the cage and lands beside us. “I will referee.”

“No one asked you.”

“I’m offering anyway. It will be fun—I’ve trained for this.”

I laugh. “You’ve not trained for anything.”

Vero turns his attention to Ares. “What about you, Ares? Want to get beat up by our girl?”

“No thanks, I’m good just watching.”

“You’re all a bunch of chickens.”

Kayla has her arms crossed and looks at me as if to say she agrees with Vero.

I roll my neck and step forward. “Fine, but don’t cry when I win.”

“Don’t limp out of here when I’m done with you,” she fires back.

Brawley steps out of the ring and stands beside Ares, while Vero claps his hands together. “Rules: no biting, no eye gouging—because my paper-cut princess has beautiful eyes—no hitting in the face, except when it comes to Clay, so hit that bastard hard and I will let it slide. Everything else is fair game. Tap the mat and it’s over. And go.”

Kayla moves first. She doesn’t hesitate, and I bring my arm up to catch her first shot.

I don’t go to her; instead, I let her come forward because I want to see what she has to work with. She shifts left and throws a combination—two quick punches, one aiming to come over the top.

I duck under her fist and step behind her, get my arm around her waist from the back, then lift her clean off the floor.

She drops her weight and twists, driving her elbow back into my ribs. It connects hard enough that my grip loosens and she turns to face me again.

“You’re not even trying,” she snarks, brushing the loose hair out of her face that has fallen from her ponytail.

“I’m trying not to hurt you.”

She huffs at me, and it is kind of adorable. “I don’t need you to do that.”

“Kayla—”

She cuts me off. “Clay, just fight me.”

“She’s right, stop managing her and do something,” Brawley snaps from outside the ring.

“Yeah, my grandma could put up a better fight, and she is dead.”

I shake my head at Vero and turn back to Kayla. When I move, she mimics me. This time I don’t hold back, and neither does she.

Kayla reads me, adjusting and using her size instead of fighting against it. She gets low and forces me to come to her level. I catch her wrist on a punch that almost gets through, and I use the momentum to turn her. But when she spins with it instead of resisting and kicks the back of my knee, I go down onto the mat and Vero loses his mind.

“Holy shit, he’s down! Somebody mark this day on their calendar.”

“I’m on one knee, not completely down and out,” I growl, looking up at Kayla.

She is standing over me, breathing hard, hair completely disheveled and looking very pleased with herself.