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I can see the blaze of determination in her eyes, the unrelenting fire that is Anastasia. She has him, yes, but at what cost?
“Keep moving, Ana!” my rough voice echoes in the dingy, harshly lit underground space as the round resumes. Breaker growls, lunging toward her with a barbaric snarl.
"Get 'er, Breaker!" Shouts ricochet off the walls, blending with the thudding of flesh against flesh. Bettors jeer, sipping on cheap vodka and placing their money with cocky smirks.
Anastasia—lithe and hardened steel beneath softness—dodges each blow Breaker attempts, her every move a dance of survival and defiance. My insides coil with each near miss, every huff of her breath echoing in the chamber of my skull.
"Right hook coming!” My warning slices through the shouting of the blood-hungry crowd. Her body sways gracefully under the mammoth fist of the thug aptly named Breaker. Her counterattack—a swift, punishing jab to his kidneys—draws a satisfying groan from his brawny frame.
The crowd is roaring, their lust for violence heavy in the air. “Kill her, end it!” Someone shouts in vehement eagerness. The rest of the horde feeds off this, frenzied, though a few sporadic voices cut in, surprisingly on her side. “Give ‘im hell, girl!”
He’s winded, the colossal fighter. Ana's resilience and unexpected prowess are like fine cracks spreading through his resolve. He’s off-kilter, staggering ever so slightly, and the tiniest of smirks plays across her lips.
My heart’s a damn drum, each thud in my chest syncing with her calculated strikes.
“Use his weight, Ana!" I holler the strategy to her. She hears me, her body swaying, reacting, the underdog in a dance with death.
The critical blow comes unexpectedly, a swift uppercut that connects with a vicious crunch, Breaker’s bulk crumbling tothe filthy floor, a defeated goliath at the mercy of a ferocious, unyielding squall.
A blanketing, oppressive silence descends upon the room. Then, from somewhere amidst the shock-stiffened bodies, a slow clap starts, followed by another, then another, until the room reverberates with reluctant admiration and disbelief.
“The winner—Tsarina!" The announcer, a slimy-looking man, conceals his astonishment poorly, his voice quivering over the loudspeaker.
Whispers weave through the space.
“The hell just happened?”
“That girl took down Breaker?”
She stands tall, breaths coming in harsh pants, gaze meeting mine from across the ring. A nod, imperceptible to most, passes between us. Pride, stark and unyielding, alights in her eyes, and a formidable decision roots itself into the very core of my being.
A solitary moment freezes in time as Ana’s gaze becomes fixated on mine, her lips curling into a triumphant, yet tender, smile. Victory and an undercurrent of affection flickers in her eyes, a subtle shimmer just beneath the surface. She takes a step, then another, toward me.
In the abyss of that nearing embrace, the world shifts off-kilter, the shimmer of triumph shattered by a visceral roar that tears through the space between us. Breaker, monstrous and enraged, heaves himself from the canvas, muscles rippling with unbridled fury.
"Cheater!" His voice is a roar, mangled between pain and unyielding rage as he surges forward, a mass of vengeful brutality.
Ana’s lithe frame doesn’t stand a chance against the tidal wave of his anger. His punch connects, and the sight of her crumpling to the ground detonates something primal, something raw and unbridled within me.
No thought. Just reaction.
I lunge into the ring, muscles coiling and releasing with a single-minded purpose. A deep-seated, roaring rage lacerates through every fiber of my being as I slam into him, a cannon of unrestrained fury.
“You piece of shit!”
My punch connects with his jaw, bone meeting knuckle in a jarring, satisfying crunch. He stumbles, his massive frame unsteady, but my onslaught is relentless, every hit an outpour of pent-up anger, a tangible, physical manifestation of every suppressed emotion that’s been festering within me.
My voice, scraped raw, tears through my throat, “Touch her again, and I’ll end you.”
Every blow is a punctuated promise, an oath inked in pain and passionate anger. His retaliations are clumsy, weakened by the battering from Ana and my own unbridled assault.
Breaker collapses, the grimy canvas welcoming his bulky form once more, but there's no satisfaction, no triumph in the hollowness of my victory. My gaze snaps back to Ana, a motionless heap on the opposite side of the ring.
My limbs move on instinct, gathering her into my arms with a stark gentleness against the brutality that’s just unfolded. Her breaths are shallow, her frame unsettlingly limp against my own, and something constricts, binds, and suffocates within the cavity of my chest.
She’s out cold, eyelashes a delicate fan against her bruised cheek. The sight causes a silent, torturous scream inside me that echoes endlessly.
The world outside the ring is a blur, sounds and sights blending into an indistinct smudge. The only reality, the only thing anchoring me is the unconscious woman in my arms, and a smoldering vow that simmers in every hollow and alcove of my existence.
