Page 94 of Last Round

Sean doesn’t stop me when I turn around and run back upstairs. As soon as I step inside Killian’s apartment, I lock the door behind me. I’m not taking any risks when it comes to Tony following me up here.

Taking a seat on the couch, I tuck my legs into the sweatshirt. Curled up, safely inside the soft cotton, I cry. Killian and Tony are going to fight. While Sean is fucking clueless as to what is going on, he wasn’t wrong. This is all my fault.

Now Killian has to pay the consequences, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Something to Lose

Killian

Mollysitsacrosstheroom, her emerald eyes focused on me as she gnaws on her nail beds. Declan, who thankfully agreed to coach in my corner, is running through our strategy. I should be listening to him, get my head in the game, but all I can think about is her.

I’ve stepped in our little training ring several times since I retired. While I’m not the fighter I used to be, it’s not like I’ve been sitting on my ass eating potato chips and watching TV.

Old habits die hard. I still get up each day and do my morning routine to get me pumped, throw jabs at the punching bag, and lift weights. Fuck, the only thing that’s been different is I stopped caring about how much alcohol I had, cigarettes I smoked, and going for the extra cheeseburger.

Compared to what I used to be, I’d say I’m out of shape. My muscle mass has decreased and let’s face it… I’m thirty-seven. Started wrestling on a youth team when I was seven, switched to boxing when I was ten, expanded into other forms of martial arts when I was fifteen, had my first street fight at sixteen, fought in an underground match for my eighteenth birthday. From that point on until my forced retirement, I’d been in over a hundred fights. My body has experienced at least three lifetimes worth of damage.

Usually right about now my veins would be pumping with adrenaline. My fists tingling with the anticipation of striking a blow. I climbed my way up the ladder, defended my title several times, and never once felt an ounce of fear. Didn’t care if I won or lost. Fuck, the concept of losing never bothered me as long as it was a good fight. All it meant was that I had to climb that hill again. In my opinion, the journey to the top was a lot more fun than finally getting to the destination. It’s why I switched weight classes. Probably would’ve again when I got bored.

So, when I say I’m nervous right now, trust me when I say it’s fucking terrifying. My anxiety has nothing to do with my final fight. It was a freak accident. If the doctors wouldn’t have medically forbade me from doing so, I would’ve been back in that ring within six months after my physical therapy. Even after they warned me that one good blow could do anything from blind me to kill me. I didn’t care. I lived my whole life in the ring; it seemed only fitting to die in it.

No, right now, my hands are shaking and my hearts racing a million miles a second, because for the first time, I’m stepping into that ring with something to lose—her. Regardless of the outcome, as long as she’ll have me, Molly is mine. There is no question about it. Despite whatIl Douchethinks, she’s not a prize to be won.

What if something goes wrong and all those warnings the doctor gave me back then come to light? Molly already expressed how my injury affected her as well as how worried she was when I got knocked down by Luke, how that sent her into a panic. If shit goes downhill, I’ve already had a small glimpse of how she’d react. She’d be devastated, more so because of the circumstances surrounding the fight.

“Are you with me?” Declan asks as he lightly taps the side of my head.

I pull my focus from Molly and look up at him. “I’m with you.”

“Good, because it feels like I’ve been talking to myself for the past forty-five minutes.” He has. I haven’t heard a damn thing he’s said. “What’s the plan?”

“Don’t lose.” I flash him a cocky smile.

“I knew it,” he grumbles under his breath. “Remember, he’s a showboater. He’s going to come out big and fast. He’s relying on the fact that you’re old and out of practice. Hold your ground. Keep your guard up. The kid will fuck up, give you an opening, and when he does…”

“Strike.”

“You know where and how to hit. You’re fucking K.O. Murphy. You only need one shot.” Declan continues to try to get me pumped.

I nod in agreement. A bit of that adrenaline that I was missing sparks and the familiar excitement about beating someone’s ass has my fists flexing. I can do this.

Declan looks back at a still-worried Molly. “We’ve got five minutes. Use them wisely.” He stands from his stool and exits the locker room.

“Come here.”

Molly stops biting her cuticle and does as I requested. Still seated on the bench, I open my arms and pull her close to me. Her forehead pressed to mine, she rests her hands on my neck. A cool tear drops down onto my cheek.

“It’s going to be okay.”

She sniffles. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know. But it’ll all be over soon.” My fucking hands are already wrapped, only allowing me to feel her with my fingertips.

“Will it? Do you think he’ll ever actually leave me…usalone?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know the future, Molly. But I need to do this.”

“Why?”

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