Page 14 of 4th Degree

I look around the arena, taking in the bright lights and screaming fans. I'm early, so the fights haven't started yet, but that doesn't make this environment any less chaotic. There are plenty of people already waiting for the first fight of the night, loudly making their predictions and getting drunker with every beer. I can hear the sounds of shins hitting pads in the back, and can smell the oil fighters use for warming up muscles.

I watch the first three fights by myself, alone in the section reserved for our gym, getting giddier with each one. I'm so lost in the back-and-forth of the fifth fight that I don't realize Lucy and Remy have appeared beside me until they call my name.

“Hey,” I greet with a wide smile. “You're here!”

Remy gives me a contemplative look and then grins. “I remember my first fight, too. If you believe it, they actually get more exciting from here.”

I laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Don't worry, it's cute,” she says, taking a seat next to me. “So you’re still enjoying training then? Lucy said you looked really good this week.”

I aim a grateful smile at the blonde who’s become a good friend in the gym. “She’s being sweet. I know I’m not a natural or anything, but I appreciate the help. And yeah, I like it a lot. I don’t know how anyone could not like it.”

Remy chuckles as she puts her combat boots up on the empty seat in front of us. “You already sound like a lifer to me.”

“Hopefully,” I breathe. Looking past Remy to Lucy, I ask, “So how long have you two been training?”

“Six years for me,” Lucy answers. “I got into it in high school because I liked the idea of punching guys in the face. Then I realized I was good at punching guys in the face and got addicted to fighting. I only fight Muay Thai, though. Jiu-jitsu takes away too much of the violence.”

“Damn, Lucy,” Remy grumbles, making me laugh. “Scare the new girl, why don’t you?” She looks at me and hitches a thumb in her friend’s direction. “She’s a pussycat, don’t worry.”

I turn my attention to Remy. “What about you? How long you been doing this?”

She does some mental calculations. “Five-ish years. I got into it in college because Jax was obsessed with it.” She answers my questioning look with, “I grew up with the giant. We’ve been copying each other since we were fifteen. Meeting Tristan at the gym was just a bonus.” She frowns. “Or on some days, a punishment.”

That prompts a chuckle from me. I had noticed her dynamic with Coach’s right-hand man. Honestly, it was hard to miss. Those two were either snapping at each other and trying to tear each other apart, or eye-fucking across the gym. There didn’t seem to be an in-between.

“And have you ever fought?” I press, curious to see if every dedicated student eventually picks up fighting.

Remy’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished the question. “No way. I have no interest in getting in the cage. I like training because of the techniques, not because of the fight. I enjoy a good, hard sparring session as much as the next guy, but I’m perfectly happy without the stress of fighting. I’ve seen what Tristan goes through, and I have zero inclination to do any of that.”

“Interesting,” I say. “I kind of assumed everyone who got serious about the sport would eventually fight. It seems like it’s natural to get pushed in that direction.”

“Nah, no one’s going to force fighting on you,” Remy says, her gaze shifting toward the cage. “It’s definitely the most common goal for people who sign up at the gym, but Coach will support any goal you come in with.”

Suddenly, she straightens in her seat, dropping her feet to the ground.

“Speaking of fighting…Kane’s up.”

We zero in on the archway where fighters have been entering the arena. I realize the rest of the Bulldog MMA team has filled in the seats around us while we were chatting, but I only get a glimpse of how packed the section is now before the lights dim and the music starts playing loudly over the speakers.

Then, a spotlight shines on the archway, and Kane appears.

He walks down the path, going through the ref’s last-minute checks, and then climbs into the cage.

He looks…calm.

“God, he’s like a whole different human,” I hear Remy comment after a minute. She glances at Lucy. “Do you remember his last fight? I thought we were about to witness a murder.”

Lucy nods at the memory. “He definitely looks more composed. Question is, what’s he going to do when he gets hit for the first time?”

The question hangs in the air as the rest of the fight preparations happen. Kane’s opponent makes his entrance, a smirking, swaggering beast of a man who clearly doesn’t view Kane as a challenge. Every time he meets Kane’s eyes, his grin widens, and an unspoken message of you’re dead crosses the cage.

Kane doesn’t react to it. To anything. Where I would expect a fighter’s nerves—or Kane’s rage—he doesn’t show a hint of anything. No fear, no excitement, no hunger for the violence. He’s composed as he bounces on his feet and snaps out a few punches to stay warm, but his face is stone. Unreadable.

“That’s his old teammate,” Lucy tells me quietly. “Kane said he’s got a huge ego, and he can unfortunately back it up. Even if he has to fight nasty—which he does.” Her voice lowers even further. “I got the sense that he had a big problem with Kane. It’s probably why he said yes to this fight so quickly.”

“And also why there’s no glove touch,” Remy murmurs after neither fighter reaches to touch gloves in the center of the cage. Instead, they back up to their corners.

---