The fear was back, blurring my view of the fight with stress and watering eyes. My breath came in short bursts as iron bands around my chest tightened.
I tried to close my eyes, to let myself sink down into some daydream to escape this reality. I tried to feel Austin’s arm around me, calm and strong. Safe.
“Watch it, bitch,” Enrico pressed the muzzle against my head painfully until I complied.
I would have to face my last minute on Earth with my eyes open.
Chapter 27
Austin
Pacing back and forth on my side of the ring, barely staying inside my designated area, I was going out of my motherfucking mind. There was no calm confidence in my abilities and no reassuringly familiar anger either.
This was fear and confusion unlike anything I’d ever experienced within the chain-linked borders of this decagon. Although it must have looked something like the old Austin Aquila on the outside, it was completely different for me.
The referee approached the middle of the cage and I started huffing air not entirely unlike Benny had in the office in that construction yard. The closer he got to the middle, the closer he got to signaling the start of the fight.
If Jace hadn’t done what he said he would yet, and I hadn’t fucking heard he had, then that meant Skylar was sitting in a chair with a gun to her head and it was all down to me. One minute to tear apart one of the greatest the sport had ever known.
Of all the fighting assets I needed to do that, the one I needed the most was pretty much fucked. My mind was flickering between the fight, what they’d do to Skylar if I failed, what I’d do to them, and failing to cope with the extremes of emotion that came with it all.
It was a gruesome mess in my head, no matter what.
I’d arrived home late last night to find the front door wide open and Skylar’s shoe rack knocked over, but the rest of the place seemed to be undisturbed. I stared at that small mess for a fucking hour solid, only to find something in the bathroom that brought me to the ground, where I ended up passing out for a few hours.
It was still there on the floor when I woke up, having dropped out of my hand. It was no hallucination brought on by stress. A home pregnancy kit, still showing the double lines of a positive result.
Skylar had given herself to me, all the way, everything that she was. She already gave me more than I deserved, and now she was carrying my child. The words hadn’t yet been invented for the things I would do to the Bertolinis, and the Picollis.
When I stepped out of my front door in the morning, half delirious from the stress and exhaustion, and sporting a pounding headache, I found a little package on my doorstep, with a note from Jace.
‘Here’s something to give you an edge tonight. People are calling it ‘F-Pro’, since it’s based on that new drug ‘F’ that’s starting to take over the market, but this is aimed at the sporting sector. It should give you a hell of a kick. Good luck. J’
With whatever reasoning I had left, I decided not to take it. What happened if I won the fight, but then failed drug-testing? Gavino and his lackeys would slaughter Skylar. My life, my future.
More to the point, my mind was already screwed up enough as it was. I didn’t need speed, power or energy, I had all that.
I needed to see clearly. What Southgate was doing, any windows of opportunity, every fucking move he made. Dealing with the side-effects of “F” or “F-Pro” or whatever the fuck that green powder was, wasn’t going to give me what this fight required of me.
“Are you ready?” The ref asked Southgate, who nodded.
I braced myself, prepared to launch at the absolute worst person in the entire fucking world I could have been facing in this situation. For the sake of his family, I hoped I didn’t fuck him up so bad that he died. For the sake of Skylar, I couldn’t afford to hold back.
Either way, I hoped I had enough in me to do this.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded.
“Alright let’s do this! Fight!”
The ref swung his arm in a downward arc and I never even heard the bell. I would have been halfway across the cage by the time the soundwaves hit me.
Faking with a push-kick to Southgate’s lead leg, I went for a Superman-Punch instead. Until the last fraction of a second, I thought I might just have done the impossible.
Shifting his weight to the side, my skull-caving punch whistled through mostly thin air, maybe catching the very edge of his ear with my glove, it was that fucking close. His knee came up and impacted my stomach with a meaty thunk that had the crowd on its feet and screaming for more.
My momentum carried me past Southgate, and I caught myself against the fence in his corner before spinning around with a backfist that also missed. It did at least do the job of forcing him to pause, rather than taking advantage of that knee he landed.