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“Against a street brawler from a rainbow daycare.”

“Against the man I love.”

The admission hangs in the air. Saying it steadies me. Micah loses the smirk. He looks at me like he’s been waiting all morning to hear it.

I gather my phone and my keys from the nightstand. The burner phone sits next to them, almost out of battery. By tonight, we will have no reason to keep hiding our messages.

“You’re riding with Victor?” I ask, shoving the items into my pockets.

“Yeah. He picks me up at four. Theo is managing the press access. Jonah and Cruz are working the corner.” Micah pushes off the wall. “Oath rolls in deep today.”

“Dan wants me at the arena by three. Media obligations. Pre-fight medicals.”

“Standard circus.”

“Standard circus.” I walk toward the front door. My heavy boots thud against the scuffed floorboards.

Every step feels like a march into hostile territory. I have to return to my hotel room. I have to pack my gear bag. I have to meet Dan in the lobby and ride to the arena in complete, suffocating silence. I have to sit in the sterile commission locker room while Dan wraps my hands under the commission inspector’s eye. The entire Ironside machine will kick into high gear, demanding absolute compliance.

I have to endure all of it alone.

I stare out the small window overlooking the alley. Chicago wakes up. A garbage truck rumbles down the street, hydraulic brakes hissing in the early morning air. The normal world continues spinning, completely unaware of what we plan to do tonight.

I reach the door. My heart pounds a heavy, erratic rhythm against my ribs as I grip the brass knob. The metal feels cool under my palm. A single turn of the deadbolt separates me from the firing line. Once I leave, I have to face Dan and Jason. I have to get through the fight.

I hesitate.

The fear spikes again. A cold, suffocating wave crashes over my head. The reality of the explosion looms large. I’ve never operated without the safety net of my father’s gym. I’ve never faced the media without the Ironside banner hanging at my back, protecting me from the wolves. I’m stepping out into the open, completely exposed.

My chest tightens. The air thins out.

I turn my head.

Micah stands in the center of the cramped room. He doesn’t follow me to the door. He gives me the space to walk away. He offers no pressure, no demands. He waits.

“See you in the cage,” I tell him. My voice sounds rough, scraping against the dry walls of my throat.

“See you in the cage.” Micah holds my gaze. His smile is warm. The certainty in his expression grounds my erratic pulse. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t waver. “And then see you after. For the rest of our lives.”

The words shatter the remaining ice in my veins.

I drop my hand from the deadbolt. I turn around and cross the floor in three long strides. I grab the front of his white tank top, fist the ribbed fabric in my hands, and pull him hard against me.

I crush my mouth to his.

The kiss holds no restraint. It’s a desperate, violent promise. I taste the black coffee on his tongue. I feel the solid, unyielding wall of his chest pressed flush against mine. He responds instantly, his large hands coming up to grip my jaw, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. He opens for me, demanding all the heat I have to offer.

He kisses me like a man claiming his territory. He kisses me like the fight has already started.

I drag my tongue against his, swallowing his ragged breath. Kissing him is easier than thinking about leaving. I need this memory to carry me through the long hours in the locker room. I need the taste of his skin to burn away Dan’s voice.

We break apart, both of us gasping for air.

I rest my forehead against his, keeping my eyes squeezed shut. My chest heaves against his.

“Do not pull your punches tonight,” I demand, my breath ghosting over his swollen lips.

“I will drop you in the second round.” Micah grins, the fierce arrogance returning to his features.