Page 108 of Mean Machine

That attitude only faded when Brooklyn took an awful shot to the liver that rocked his whole body—then Rose’s eyes softened, and his jaw tightened, and he seemed close to reaching out to steady Brooklyn and maybe apologise. Instead of pressing his advantage, he stepped back.

Oh no, you won’t protect me, Rose. Fuck you, we’re here to fight.

Brooklyn pushed the pain to wherever the pain went when he ignored it, denied its existence or effect on his body or mind, and came after Rose with another combination aimed at his chest and sides. There was nothing subtle about the punches, and they all came in true, connected in that way that told any experienced boxer they hurt.

And he kept going, threw punches and drove Rose back, but Rose with his beautiful sense of timing lashed out with yet another one of those precise counterpunches and clipped Brooklyn’s head high up.

His head whipped back, the lights in the hall turned into streaks, and his vision dimmed. He must have staggered, because his knee connected with the canvas next as he lost his balance. His vision was blurred, whether that was sweat burning in his eyes or his brain shutting down some functions to reroute blood and processing power elsewhere—whatever it was, he clearly heard that collective groan from the audience, a sound that was both morbid and obscene with its naked bloodlust. That was what Thorne had heard when he’d gone down, maybe the last sound Odysseus had ever heard on this earth.

I’m so sorry for that.

Brooklyn shook his head, tried to clear his vision.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Some sense returned to him, maybe a sheer adrenaline response, maybe the shock from hearing the count, and Brooklyn felt still strong. Not the first time by a long shot that he’d taken a punch like that. He could get up, recover somewhat, go all out and attempt to run Rose over like a train. He wasn’t actually hurt, just dazed a bit, but he could still fight back.

“Four.”

“Get up, Brook! Goddammit!” He glanced towards that voice and noticed Em in the first row a couple chairs to the side, punching the air as if he could pummel Brooklyn back onto his feet. Next to him, Soledad covered her mouth and chin with both tattooed, heavily ringed hands, not in shock but concern. Brooklyn reached for the ropes.

He could get up, use the adrenaline from this shock to unleash hell on Rose, force a furious, brutal end this round or next.

“Six.”

But for what? Even then they’d be evenly matched. Neither of them was actually hurt, and that was a small mercy. Get up for what? For another round of a fight he didn’t want to fight. For another chance to hurt somebody he’d never in a million years want to hurt—not for money, not for honour, not for fame, or even for some worthless tinsel that his heirs would likely flog on eBay.

“Seven.”

He had nothing left to prove.

“Eight.”

And this bastard thing had cost him his shot at having a family, at looking after Hazel, at sharing what was important to him with Nathaniel.

“Nine.” The noise around him swelled and was nearly frantic now.

No. I’m done. Fuck this. Fuck boxing.

“Ten!”

Done. Brooklyn levered himself to his feet, saw the ref raise Rose’s arm, but Rose freed himself as quickly as was possible with the mayhem that now broke out in the ring. Joseph was immediately at Brooklyn’s side, and Brooklyn kept up appearances by letting his coach walk him back into his corner and take the gumshield out.

“I’m sorry,” Brooklyn muttered, but he felt nothing but relief.

Joseph waved that off and squeezed his shoulders. “We talk later.”

He was about to help Brooklyn out of the ring when Rose showed up at Brooklyn’s side, clearly furious. Totally misunderstanding the situation, both crews separated them and got Brooklyn out of the ring before they could so much as exchange a word. Brooklyn returned to the changing rooms under his own steam.

The mood in his crew was decidedly sombre, until Joseph herded them all out of the room and sat down next to Brooklyn to cut off his gloves. “You going to explain to me why you were only going through the motions out there?” He pulled off the first glove and tossed it into the corner.

Brooklyn sighed and lifted his head to meet his eyes. “I’m done, Joseph. I knew I was done before I even got into that ring.”

“What happened?”

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