Page 133 of Ruthless Legacy

He emerges to polite claps. I know he doesn’t care about that. He’s here for one reason. Because I asked him to. He doesn’t look around or interact with anyone. His focus is on what’s about to happen.

The referee gives some bullshit safety brief. I say bullshit because it basically said anything goes, and the fight continues until someone’s unconscious or submits.

Leonardo and about a dozen other league members are standing in the giant’s corner. Wolfe’s is empty. I stay in my seat. I don’t want to draw attention to myself or distract him. He puts in his mouth guard, then climbs to his feet. His hands are wrapped and his right instep is taped, but that’s the only gear either of them is wearing. This is gonna get bloody.

Wolfe turns to his corner and drops his head. When he lifts it, he turns to face the giant. It’s time.

The first two rounds, the two fighters were testing each other. The next three were hard to watch. They’re both breathing hard. Their height difference is more noticeable with the reach. Wolfe has to step in closer than the giant when he swings. That results in one too many hits when he goes to step back out. Like now, he’s just taken a knee to the side. He steps back, shakes it off, then goes in again.

The bell rings, ending the fifth round. The referee tells them they have a three-minute break. This is unusual in an MMA match, but I guess the fact that we’re not following the State Athletic Commission rules means they can do whatever they want.

Wolfe sits in his corner and the other side returns to the locker room. Two and a half minutes later, they come back out and the fight resumes.

Three minutes isn’t a lot of time, but hopefully it gave Wolfe a chance to catch his breath.

The creeper and his buddies are loving this. I make the mistake of looking over at their corner. He’s staring at me, a smug look on his face. I know that look. I’ve had that look. His fighter’s been playing with his food. I turn back to the fight in time to see Wolfe take a blow to his jaw. The giant put the entire weight of his body behind it.

Wolfe responds with a hit of his own. They go blow for blow, kick for kick. Grunting as punches and kicks land. Wolfe locks on and tries to knee him in the gut. The giant blocks it and brings Wolfe’s head down onto his knee. He staggers back and before he can recover; he takes a flying kick to the chest.

Something’s different about this round. Different about the giant’s technique.

I watch him square off with Wolfe again. Watching him. Watching his hands and his feet. Not like a spectator, but like a fighter.

I look at Leo and then his fighter. When he swings again, I see it. The pinch in his side. I’m on my feet, moving down the row, heading towards the ring. Hands grab me, pulling me back to the wrong corner. I yell for Wolfe, who’s on his knees. “Wolfe-”

A hand clamps over my mouth as I wrestle against whoever’s holding me. Wolfe has trouble getting to his feet. A roundhouse lands against his head and he stumbles again.

“He’s too stubborn to submit, just like you, so I guess he’ll get dragged out of here. Then, corrective action begins. We’ll start with you apologizing to the council for wasting their time with this little act of defiance.”

Leo chuckles. “Though I’m sure a few of them are happy with the financial outcome of this exhibition. You should look away now. You’re not gonna want to see what happens next.”

I don’t look away. I watch as the seconds tick on. As one round bleeds into the next. Seven. Eight. They’re both stumbling around. Nine. Tenth round.

The giant gives it his all. Wolfe’s barely fighting back. He looks at me. My heart leaps into my throat. This is it. It’s over. Then he straightens and moves quickly.

It’s like he’s gotten a second wind. As if the previous nine rounds never happened. Now his treadmill kink, makes more sense. Wolfe’s got plenty of energy left in his tank.

Mat Nueng, Mat Soi Dao, Sok Ngat. I recognize the combination right away.

Jab, uppercut, uppercut elbow strike,

The giant’s reaction time is slow, and Wolfe’s using combinations he didn’t before.

Khao chiang, knee strike, knee strike, Superman punch,

Flying knee strike, lead leg kick, Superman punch.

Wolfe resets his feet for a roundhouse kick. It connects perfectly, and the giant goes down. There’s a delay. The ref isn’t counting, because he’s too busy looking at Leonardo instead of doing his job. I yell out, “one, two, three, four.”

Someone in the crowd joins in. Then more voices. “Six, Seven. Eight. Nine.” I elbow the person holding me. When the crowd reaches ten, I’m at Wolfe’s corner.

He steps to the edge of the ring, a trickle of blood trailing down his face into his eye. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it away. That, along with his split lip, enhances the savagery of his look.

He’s staring at me as he climbs out of the ring and slides his sneakers on, seemingly oblivious to the people congratulating him on the fight. I’m standing still. Bodies press against me. Around me. One minute I’m frozen in place, the next I’m launching myself in the air.

He catches me and shoves his way through the crowd with me latched around him like a koala. Then we’re outside and around the back end of the gym. I don’t ask where we’re going. I just cling to him, peppering gentle kisses around his battered face.

He presses me against a wall and takes my mouth. Kissing with unrestrained passion. I taste the desperation in it. It matches my own. My pants are shoved to my ankles, and in the kind of athleticism only he could manage, with my legs partially restrained, he shoves into me. Hard.

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