Both men are still in the center of the ring, Daniels gripping each side of Rogan’s neck, Rogan’s hands on Daniels’s shoulders. They hold each other like that for several long seconds. The chanting, the anticipation, the energy of the crowd—it all collides to bring my nerves to a jangling crescendo. And then, in a movement that is so perfectly executed, so blindingly fast, Rogan kicks with his knee, slides his other foot behind Daniels’s and has him on his back in the blink of an eye.
They are a writhing mass of slithering limbs and grappling hands, and I’m unable to make heads or tails of their form until Rogan pushes out with his legs. I hear the excited cries and shouts of the people surrounding me. I see them coming to their feet and cheering, so I know something significant is happening. Then I see Rogan stretch out nearly full length at an angle to Daniels’s body, his legs wrapped around his opponent’s upper body and Daniels’s arm being pulled up between them. Rogan, holding tight to his opponent’s arm, continues to stretch back, a little at a time, bending the joints in a way that makes them look deformed. Daniels’s face is bright red as he reaches toward Rogan with his free hand, punching haphazardly.
Something happens and Rogan loses his grip, Daniels’s arm slipping out of his grasp and almost free of him completely, but Rogan bends forward, smashing his fist into Daniels’s face in four rapid-fire strikes. Even from a distance, I see blood fly as Daniels’s head bounces against the mat with a thud I’m sure I could hear if the crowd wasn’t so wild.
My stomach clenches and, for a moment, I’m caught in a time and a place where I felt the impact of fists, where I was held down so that I couldn’t escape. The fear, the incapacity, the remembered pain flood my body with a sick adrenaline that causes my hands to shake and perspiration to pop out across my forehead.
I blink my lids, forcing my eyes to focus on the present, on where I am, on the fact that I’m safe. But the feelings are still there, too intense to be part of my past. It’s like they leapt out of my nightmares to become a reality to me again.
My chest feels tight as I watch Rogan regain control of Daniels and pull his arm through his legs again. “Arm bar! Arm bar!” the man in front of me yells. Rogan shows no mercy this time. He stretches back, his face a stony mask, and relentlessly contorts Daniels’s arm.
I see Daniels tap the mat with his free hand. The referee makes a gesture and says something that I can’t hear, causing Rogan to release his opponent and jump to his feet. He won.
His stance says he’s the victor. The crowd says they had no doubt.
I study Rogan’s face. Gone is the fierceness of only seconds before, replaced by the confident smile that won my heart. He never had any doubt either. He’s in his element when he’s in battle. And I’m in my own personal hell.
I’ve never been more conflicted.
THIRTY
Rogan
Victory. It surges through my blood. I can taste it on my tongue, sweet and tangy. I can smell it in the air, mingling with sweat. There is no feeling in the world like winning. It makes me feel alive when, for a lot of years growing up, I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
But I did.
Against the odds. And here I am, on top of the world.
My first conscious thought as I do a slow turn of triumph in the center of the ring is of Katie. I squint past the bright lights, scanning the sea of faces for hers, but I can’t find her. My gaze drops to the first row, to where my brother is parked in his wheelchair. I frown my question at him, nodding to the upper rows. He shrugs. He doesn’t know where she went, even though he was supposed to keep an eye on her.
I feel a thin thread of unease unraveling in my gut. I don’t know why she would leave her seat like that. My agent was supposed to bring her to me in the locker room in another ten or fifteen minutes. Now I don’t know where she is. Maybe the bathroom . . .
I pull my attention back to getting through the next hour. After all the regular post-fight shit, I can disappear back into a world where it’s just Katie and me. For as long as we’ve got left.