Page 140 of Sacrifice
I feel another burst of adrenaline hit, that almost dizzying feeling that accompanies the relief, hitting me hard. I know I have to use it to my advantage. I have a very small window of opportunity.
It’s do or die.
Hunter goes to take a side mount, landing huge right hands against my face. I feel the force of every blow, each slap of the leather jerking my neck back and forth.
Davidson’s face is animated, his eyes blazing, sensing the kill. And I realize—that’s exactly what’s happening.
This guy’s trying to kill me.
Fight or flight kicks in and a rush of memories flashes through my mind. I see Jules’ smile, Ever’s eyes, hear Gage’s laugh. I’ve set everything up for this moment, the one where the girls will be okay regardless of how it ends.
I know what I gotta do.
The pain is insane. Everything starts to bleed together, everything one big, giant, fucked-up, muffled mess. I strain to find something to focus on, something to keep me present. I hear Will at the side of the cage and I focus on his voice . . .
* * *
JULIA
“I can’t believewhat’s happening, Marv. In a matter of moments, the predator has become the prey.”
“That’s why people love MMA, Nate. Everything can change in a heartbeat.”
“Yes, but how quickly did Davidson just take over? Crew’s on the mat looking like a beaten man.”
“Come on, baby,” I yell at the television. “Come on, Crew!”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Gentry, Nate. I’m not sure he’s going to hold on.”
Tears are pouring down my cheeks. I glance quickly at Macie and tears are falling from her eyes, too. She reaches for my hand.
The camera gets a close-up of the two of them and I can see Crew’s eyes. They’re wide wild,unfocused,full of some sort of emotion that I’m too afraid to name.
* * *
CREW
I’m getting slammedin the back of the head by illegal punches every time I turn my head.
I gotta blow or go.
This motherfucker wants a street fight, I can do that.
I relax just enough so Davidson smells blood. Being the impulsive prick I know him to be, he takes full mount.
I summon every last bit of strength I have. I only have a few seconds left and I’m going to finish this fight, one way or another, the way I know. The way that’s not won me medals or accolades, but the way that’s saved my life in the past.
Sal said to remember where I came from—I came from the streets. I’m going to finish this like a street fighter.
Davidson straddles me and I explode. I rare up and blast my head into Davidson’s face, stunning him. I wrap my legs around him. I reach my arm over his neck and put my forearm under his chin, locking my hands together. As I rock back, basically trying to pull his head off his body in a Guillotine choke, I feel my own head spin. I yell out, the pain in my neck so intense I almost can’t hold on.
I can feel the panic take over Davidson. He knows he’s caught now and has a few moments to escape or this is over. His hands free, he rocks my body with punches from both sides, each blast only intensifying my pain. My neck is pressed between the mat and the corner of the cage, Hunter’s 190-pound body pressing down onto one spot in my neck.
The pain is white-hot. Blinding. I can’t see anything clearly.
Each impact feels like a bomb is going off inside me. He hits me again, a bunny shot that shouldn’t even register, but it does. I flex my arms, squeezing harder to keep him still, and something cracks in my back. I can actually hear it over the blood pounding in my ears, over the crowd, over Sal, over Hunter’s groans.
The pain is ridiculous. My body relaxes for a split second, my head feeling light, and Hunter starts to break free. Quickly, I crank it down again as hard as I can. As I do, flashes of black sweep through my vision.
