But I didn’t want to do that. I felt the rage twist inside me as I fought back, throwing a furious punch that landed, followed by another kick. He stumbled, and I could have pressed, but I didn’t. Instead, I took a half second to prepare my next attack. I could have taken him down right the and there, maybe even won the match through a submission hold, but I couldn’t.
He came back at me, throwing heavy blows. I took as good as I gave, one punch after the other, and I could feel my body was battered. We were circling each other, diving in to attack like hungry sharks, pulling back bloodied and bruised.
It was one of the most brutal rounds of my life. When the bell rang, ending the action, I pulled back to my corner. Both of us were bleeding from cuts on our faces, and I spit a bright red clotted ball of blood, probably from a tooth.
“What are you doing?” Ronnie yelled over the noise. “That shit was brutal.”
I nodded, not able to speak.
“You got to get him down, man. You can take him there. On your feet, you’re even. Any shit can happen. But down there, man, you can take him.”
I nodded again, drinking water.
“Fuck him up, Cole. Fucking murder him.” He backed off as the next round was about to start.
I stood, feeling the rage, embracing the crowd. I couldn’t look at Alexa, because I knew her concern would change my mind. I wanted to get back in there and punish Trent with my fists until he knew who the real fighter was.
So that was exactly what I did. For another round, I stood my ground and fought him, trading blows like boxers. It was the slowest and most painful round of my life. Our injuries were piling up, but neither one of us was willing to give an inch. I could sense Trent’s frustration, because he probably thought he should be able to win the match on his feet.
But he was incredibly wrong. He had no clue how evenly matched we were standing, how much stronger I’d gotten over the last year. Trent was a good fighter, but he was nothing compared to what I had become.
I landed some strong kicks to his body. I could tell he was hurting by the way he moved, could tell that he was frustrated and wanted to lash out. He was going to get sloppy. I just had to make sure that I was ready to capitalize when he finally stumbled again.
The second round ended like the first one had, both of us bloodied and bruised. We were scheduled for eight, but at the pace we were fighting at, we’d never make it. One of us was going to collapse from exhaustion.
The next round happened and the next. Both times Ronnie screamed at me to go for the takedown, to wrestle him on the ground, to try to get the submission hold. But both times I ignored him, deciding to stay on my feet instead and slug it out with Trent, toe to toe. I never backed down, never gave ground, and although I was bleeding and hurt in a thousand different places, I could tell that I was winning. Not on the scorecard, maybe, but Trent was getting sloppy, frustrated.
I had something to prove. I needed to show the world what kind of fighter I was. There weren’t many men that could stand up to Trent the way I was, fighting him in his preferred style. There were even fewer that could step in and take him down at any moment.
The fifth round began. I could feel one of my teeth was loose, and Trent’s left eye was almost swollen shut. We looked insane, and I was almost surprised that the ref even let the round begin. But we were out there, face to face, going at it again.
Trent was getting sloppy and loose. I could see the anger etched on his face, pure and unbridled rage. I felt calm, though anger simmered below the surface, propelling me forward. Still, he was throwing wild haymakers, trying desperately to knock me out.
I got stupid. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I was probably more dehydrated and exhausted and in more pain than I had realized. But as we were fighting, one of those desperate haymakers landed directly on my jaw.
I heard the crack of my teeth smashing together and the collective scream of the crowd.
I staggered back, shocked. I took a sharp breath, but my whole head was foggy and swimming. I took another step back as Trent came at me. I barely had time to get my hands up to defend myself as he began to rain blows on me.
I was falling. I knew I was falling. My eyes were wide with terror as I lost my balance, spilling backward.
Alexa. I had failed her. I’d never fight again. But worst of all, I was letting her down.
And then something caught me, held me up. I thought it might be my guardian angel, pushing my body back into fighting position. It took me half a second to realize that I was leaning against the wire fence that circled the ring.
Trent’s fists rained down on me, and I could vaguely hear Ronnie screaming. I knew the ref would stop the fight any second if I didn’t get myself together.