The door to the small room at the convention hotel opens and Jax in full Mohawk mode strolls in. “After this fight, you’re on deck.”

John finishes with the wraps and slips his hands into the practice pads. “It’s time to warm up.”

The official pulls the cap off a black marker with his teeth and signs his name over my wraps. I’m regulation, not illegal, and one step closer to the cage.

After practicing with gloves, my hands feel na**d and vulnerable. John holds up the pads and I widen my stance. Attempting to ignore the nerves, I blow out air. I could kid myself and say this is all for Haley, but this is also for me.

* * *

John stands in front of me and I’m flanked by Jax and Kaden. Behind the door to the hotel convention center, I sport hand wraps, a cup and a pair of wrestling shorts. I swing my arms, trying to keep them loose though tension begins to build in my neck.

Doing a bad job parroting a real MMA announcer, the master of ceremonies comes off like a sleazy carnival gamer as he advertises my weight and city.

Jax pops his head to the right and opens the door as my name is called. “Let’s do this.”

The crowd screams and whistles when I hit the floor and stalk toward the octagon cage in the middle. I notice everyone, yet I notice no one. All of it is flashes of color and movement. Music pounds through the speakers, and, in a moment of clarity, I recognize the song.

I glare at Jax and he’s smiling like a damn hyena. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. You scream Rocky.” He slams a hand on my back. “Get a sense of humor. You’re going to need it in there.”

John and the ref exchange a few words before the ref motions to me. “Arms up.”

I do as he asks, holding them straight out to my sides, then widen my feet. His hands skim my body, frisking me for foreign items. A quick scan checks my ears, that I’m wearing a cup and that my nails are trimmed and that the wraps haven’t been tampered with.

When I’m cleared, John steps in front of me and offers my mouthpiece. I accept it and he moves his mouth as if talking while he applies a coat of Vaseline on my face. The noise in the room mixes together and nothing is clear or coherent. John looks me in the eye and says, “Got it?”

I nod. He glances at Jax and I don’t miss the subtle shake of his head.

“Good luck and Godspeed,” says John.

I walk up the three steps and enter the cage. Nervous adrenaline courses in my veins and I continue to work my muscles to keep the blood flowing. Matt stands on the opposite side of the cage with his back toward me.

The ref calls Matt over and the son of a bitch smiles when he sees me. “Have you pissed yourself yet?”

I smile right back. “Fuck you.”

“Guess we both f**ked 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.

Chapter 79

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.”