“Guess we both fucked Haley, huh?”
A surge of anger rushes through me and I roll forward on the balls of my feet. The ref slams a hand into my chest and shouts, “Do we got the rules?”
“Got it.”
“Got it,” answers Matt.
“Keep it in line,” yells John and I silently curse myself for doing exactly what Haley had warned me about for months.
The ref claps his hands and slides out of the way. Matt and I extend our arms and bump fists. Haley talked about a peacefulness in the cage. All that surrounds me is chaos.
Haley
My heart pounds so hard I have no doubt people can see it past my skin. I fly through the doors of the convention center and a security guard blocks my way as I sprint toward the table.
“I’m a coach!” I skid to a halt. “Haley Williams. I’m with West Young.”
“He’s on now,” says the security guard. The girl at the front flips through the paperwork and I will her fingers to move faster.
A wave of nausea causes tingling in my head. I grab on to the table to stay upright. “How long?”
“It’s been a while. He’s getting the hell beat out of him.”
“Damn.” I breathe out.
“Here!” The girl hands me the yellow pass, the security guard steps out of my way and I’m running again, carrying the badge up over my head, yelling at anyone who tries to stop me.
The crowd is on their feet, screaming at the two men thrashing it out in the center of the room. Most have taken to standing on their chairs, making it impossible for me to catch a glimpse as I push through to gain access to the front.
As I get closer, West holds his guard as Matt doles out a three-one combo. The power behind his punch is brutal, and West is able to throw a jab to push Matt back. West ducks out of the way from another assault and is able to gain enough space between them to hopefully create an offensive attack.
My feet continue to move underneath me, and, as I open my mouth to scream instructions to West, my body rams into something and I stumble back.
“Only fighters and coaches.” Another security guard obstructs my path, not caring about the yellow badge I throw in his face.
“John!” I lean around him. “John!”
John keeps shouting instructions at West and Jax turns his head at the sound of my voice. He jumps off the platform outside the Octagon and points at me. “She’s with us.”
I latch on to Jax and he pulls me past the guard and into the inner circle. Sitting in the front row, Conner’s eyes meet mine. With the glare I send him, he looks away first.
“How’s West doing?” I ask.
“Not good.” Jax hauls himself onto the platform and offers his hand to help me up. “He’s blanked out and not listening to a word John says. West is moving, but he’s getting the hell beat out of him in the process. There’s no way he can last three rounds of this.”
My fingers curl around the cage and my heart becomes sick. The skin around West’s right eye swells and his lip is busted. His body droops forward and fatigue slows his movements, causing him to drop his guard. Sweat drips off his body like a faucet. “Tap him out.”
“Thirty seconds left, Hays,” says John. “He can do it.”
But I don’t want him to do it. “What round?”
“Second.”
The metal wire cuts into my fingers. Dear God in heaven.
Matt mock throws a cross, West deflects it wrong and Matt lunges for his middle. “Get out of the way!”
The entire cage vibrates as their bodies slam onto the fence. In a smooth, fluid motion, Matt pins West and pounds him, hook after hook to West’s guarded face. West’s knees begin to buckle and if he falls to the floor it’ll be over for good.