Page 19 of Strike Zone

One hundred thirty-seven pounds.

My heart is thumping so hard it’s as if it is about to leap from my chest and gallop off into the devastation of this moment.

“Miss Dobrev is two pounds over regulation for the bantamweight division, and therefore tonight’s fight must be postponed until a later date to be determined.” The official’s words are cold, rehearsed, and yet the furrow of his brow indicates the chaos he knows is about to erupt.

Microphones come at me from all sides.

“How do you feel, Miss Lexington, knowing that all these preparations are for nothing?”

“Do you have anything to say to Miss Dobrev?”

“Will you agree to another challenge to your title from your opponent?”

“When will this fight take place now?”

I’m dumbstruck. It takes everything I have to hold my tongue, but Gray has given me shit for it in the past, and I’m in no fit state to keep a level head. Thankfully, he steps in front of me and signals for my bodyguards to escort me out, but I’m not moving. I want her to face me, to know that if and when we finally get in the cage, I’ll be coming for her.

“No questions at this time, please. We’ll be making a formal statement later today, but in short, we’re extremely disappointed, as you can imagine. Dee prides herself on the dedication and hard work she puts into preparation for a title fight. We’re grateful to the MGM Grand for putting together a fantastic event, and I hope they’ll consider rehosting when and if Miss Dobrev can take this as seriously as my fighter. Rules are in place for a reason, and we’ve adhered to the letter. Thank you for coming, and we’ll let you know of any further press conferences with your reigning champion, Dee Lex, later in the day.”

Another wave of questions come hurtling our way, but this time I’m flanked by Gray and the bodyguards as they usher me out the room and quickly toward the elevators. As soon as the doors close behind me and we’re heading for my suite, I finally let it out.

“What the ever-loving-fuck? She didn’t make weight! This wasn’t just some nobody fight, and even then, you make the damn weight. It’s humiliating.”

“You have nothing to feel embarrassed about, Dee, you did everything right. This is all on her. Fucking unprofessional is what it is.”

I’m pacing the confined space like an animal climbing the walls. “This can’t be happening. I’ve been working my ass off for this. The endorsements, the press, not to mention the physical side of it. All that shit is gone now because of two fucking pounds! Let me fight her anyway.”

“You know that’s not how it works. We have to reschedule, and that’s only if you want to. You have grounds to refuse her if she comes knocking.”

My fists ball at my sides, an electrical current running through them, buzzing with unfettered rage. I swing for the mirrored back wall of the elevator, watching it shatter the moment my knuckles connect. Shards splinter in a cacophony of sound, suspended for a fraction of a second before slamming to the floor of this speeding box.

“Jesus Christ, Dee.” Gray covers his ears, his eyes wide as saucers taking in the carnage at our feet. Transported from a hotel elevator, I’m lost in a glass forest, locked in by my own frustration. I can’t take a breath, an invisible force pressing on my chest—overwhelming disappointment.

As the elevator comes to a halt and the doors open, I’m met by familiar faces. Brooke, Anders, and Linc are waiting at the entrance to my room. “How did you get up here so fast? And why the hell is he here?” I gesture in Linc’s direction.

“Good morning to you too, Diana. Lovely to see you again.”

Brooke reaches for my hands, turning them over in her palms. “You’re bleeding.” Her face contorts as she takes in the damage behind me. “What were you thinking?”

I snatch my hands back and grab the keycard from my back pocket. “I don’t know, sis. Maybe that I’ve been working toward this for months, and I just watched a life-changing amount of money flushed down the toilet over two-fucking-pounds.”

She follows me inside, along with everyone else. “It’ll still happen, just not today. I know it’s disappointing, but…”

“Do you? You’re already set with your sponsorships, ad campaigns, marriage to a two-time World Series-winning multi-millionaire. I’m alone, Brooke. If I don’t get paid, I’ve nothing to fall back on.”

“If it’s about the money, we can help you out until they reschedule the fight.”

“It’s not about the goddamn money! I can pay my bills just fine, thanks. I’m still the reigning champion. I just… this was supposed to be… fuck!”

“Can you at least sit down so I can clean up your hands? You’re dripping blood on the floor.”

Gray is already fielding calls in the background while Anders and Asshat disappear into the bedroom. Guess their bromance is more serious than I previously thought.

“I just need everyone to get out, Brooke. Can you do that? Get rid of them. I don’t want to hear Gray yelling at Kayla’s manager or trying to calm down sponsors. Bodyguards really aren’t necessary now, and I’m sorry, but Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum have to go. I don’t want Linc in here being smug.”

“Why would he do that?”

“It’s a long story. Trust me. I just want to be alone.”

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