This is my opening!
Quickly I lay a right hook into the side of her face and she falls to her hands and knees.
Get her. It’s now or never!
I drop to the floor, straddling her body. My heart racing with so much adrenaline I feel high. I slam my fists and elbows into her face, not letting up. My fists flying, and popping her anywhere I see skin.
She stops resisting but I don’t quit laying into her. I can’t, not until the referee calls it.
Blood stains my fingers as I continue to strike. Pain driving me towards victory. The crowd screams, and the referee grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me off her.
Kiki rolls back and forth covering her face, and her coach and a medic enter the ring and assess her injuries.
Camden races into the ring and picks me up over his shoulder, and slaps my ass!
“You fucking did it!!”
Setting me down on both feet, I watch as Kiki’s team help her up. She’s looks a mess. Her face is purple and bloody, and the white of her eyes have popped blood vessels everywhere.
We’re both ushered to the middle of the ring and the referee grabs my arm and raises it.
“Winner by knock out, Tatum ‘HellCat’ Davis!” The crowd screams in excitement, their earlier boos a lost whisper.
Camden grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard in front of everyone. I didn’t think the audience could get any louder, but they do. Cameras flash from all over and in that moment I can say that I am the happiest, luckiest woman in the world.
Releasing my lips from his, I open my eyes, and the world sets back into place.
A tap on my shoulder catches my attention and I turn finding a bloody faced Kiki.
“Good fight Kiki.”
Her brows narrow, her lips pursed.
“You got lucky! I want a rematch, and when I do I’ll wipe the octagon with you,” she threatens.
“Anytime.” I smile, saluting her out of the ring.
My vision goes upside down, as Camden throws me over his shoulder and hauls me off the stage. The crowd cheers my name. My name!
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried to.
Once behind stage there’s cameras and random people standing by my locker room. Camden sets me down, gripping my hand tightly.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Stay close.” He weaves us through the crowd, people yelling for me to sign this, or asking me questions on how I became an overnight success.
Once inside the locker room Camden turns and locks the doors. He swipes his hands through his hair, and eyes me wildly.
“You did it. You fucking did it.” He smiles big. “I’ll admit you had me worried for a minute there.” He steps forward and cups my face, focusing on my eyebrow. “We should get that cleaned up and bandaged.”
A knock sounds at the door, and Camden strides toward it, opening it a crack before widening.
“I knew you had it in you,” Debs smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I can’t help but roll my eyes as she starts to unwrap my hands.
“I’m going to go get the car and make sure it’s clear. Don’t let anyone in here Debs,” Camden informs, pointing sternly at her.
She doesn’t respond as she continues to take the wrap off my hands.
Silence fills the locker room, and I wonder if I should address what happened before the fight. A light rhythmic knock sounds at the door, and Debs nearly breaks her neck trying to get up.
“Camden said not to let anyone in,” I remind her.
“You will want to talk to this person Tate.” She looks over her shoulder, an unreadable look on her face as she opens the door.
The hall is miraculously cleared, and a tall clean cut woman steps in. She’s wearing a black dress with killer heels, her hair as perfect as her face.
“Who are you?” I scrunch my face in question.
She smiles a bleached grin, and perfectly manicured brow arching. “I’m Silvia Machen, the CEO of MFC, and I have a proposition for you Tate.”
My gaze flicks to Debs, and she nods approvingly.
“Um, okay,” I mutter unsure.
“I’m in charge of potential fighters in the MFC, bringing them the best of the fighters around the world,” Silvia informs, pacing in front of the door. My heart skips a beat, thinking she wants me to fight for the MFC.
“You are familiar with the MFC right?”
“Of course, I watch most of their fights since I was a kid.”
She stops, a villainous smile crossing her face.
“What if I told you, that those fights you watch on your television isn’t where the excitement breeds from, that it’s not the most profitable fight there is?”
“I’d say I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I chuckle. The conversation feeling out of sorts.
“I’m saying I have an underground octagon—”