Chapter 32
thirty-two
Valentina
Managing the gym wasn’t something I had in mind until Gabriel made it happen.
I don’t know how and why Boris agreed to it and stayed to help me transition when he could have left and enjoyed his retirement.
However, I’m so glad he did because I would have been at a complete loss tonight.
One of our members is fighting, and my gym is hosting the event.
The place is almost packed with patrons, excitement is thick in the air, and I can feel it.
Lisa is fighting against a woman in her weight class, but all we know about her is that her initials are N.C.
Even though we told Lisa she could refuse to fight, she said she wanted to do it. So, why isn’t she here yet?
I look at my watch again before I scan the entrance one more time. I need to find Boris to see what we can do if she doesn’t show up. I’m about to pick up my phone to call Lisa one more time when Boris and Victor approach me.
“What are you doing here?” I say, not bothering with pleasantries.
He tilts his head, his mouth twisting. “Aren’t you excited to see me? I guess Gabriel’s attitude is rubbing off on you.” His voice drips with condescension.
“Answer the question,” I snap.
He chuckles, low and mocking. “Interesting that you're asking that. Aren’t you supposed to be the new owner and manager of this little establishment?”
My eyes narrow, my pulse steadying into something lethal.
“Naomi is fighting tonight." He smirks. “N.C. Rings any bells?”
“Oh, so that’s who it is. Why not just say her name?”
He leans in slightly, voice dropping to something oily and amused. “Where's the fun in that?” His lips spread into an evil grin. “Anyway, I will leave you now. We’re going to get settled.”
The moment he disappears around the corner, I turn to Boris. “Tell me he can’t pull this stunt.”
He shrugs. “I guess he can.” His gaze locks on mine in a way that twists my gut. “Be careful. I think that, tonight, expect anything from him. He doesn’t play by the rules, never has and never will. He is up to something. I can smell it.”
“Like what?” My voice edges into a growl.
“I don’t know yet,” he admits, frustration bleeding through. “But it won’t be good.”
“Dammit.” The realization hits like a punch. “Lisa isn’t here yet.”
“What?” His head snaps up. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“I’ve been calling her nonstop, but nothing.”
He curses under his breath, dials her number, and waits. It goes dead. He lowers the phone, his face darkening. “If she doesn’t show, we forfeit.”
“And hand them the win?” I bite out.
“We don’t have another fighter in her class,” he snaps. “And even if we did, they wouldn’t be prepared. But let’s worry about that in a sec. I’m going to check with her boyfriend.”
It was one useless hour of waiting and calling, not getting anywhere.
With the gym packed, I don’t know how to handle the situation.
I’m too tense, and I feel defeated. I don’t want to look like I failed at my first tournament hosting.
My chest tightens at the thought of what will happen when it's time for the match.
I stand at the office window, watching the crowd pulse with energy below.
A few minutes ago, hiding up here felt like the safer move; now, it feels like weakness.
My fingers itch to call Gabriel, to ask for his thoughts on this mess, but he’s dealing with his own problems: system breaches, attacks on Cosa Nostra fronts, enemies circling.
And this? This is mine to handle.
I straighten, letting the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders, not as a burden, but as an opportunity. This is my moment to step up, to prove I’m more than a bystander in Gabriel’s world. My chance to find my place in Cosa Nostra.
I need to handle this alone; Gabriel can’t come near those two. He can’t be reminded of old wounds.
I square my shoulders, step out of my office, and cut through the corridor like a blade. Victor is leaning against the wall, arms crossed and lips pulled into a vicious smirk. “To what do I owe this pleasure…” he looks at his watch, “fifteen minutes before the match?”
“There will be no fight tonight,” I say flatly. “Lisa didn’t show up.”
“Didn’t show up?” He chuckles sarcastically. “Or maybe she realized she’s out of her league.”
I shrug. “We can’t reach her. Under the circumstances, we’re cancelling.”
“Bullshit.” He steps closer. “Don’t you have anyone else to throw in the ring?”
“No, and even if we did, it’s too late. No fighter is entering unprepared.”
He leans into my space, dripping mockery. “I call bullshit. If you wanted to, you could find a replacement. But I guess you like to play it safe.” He winks at me. “Your loss. This is going to be epic. Downfall of the new management. You will be blacklisted from any events in the future.”
I glare at him. “What are you talking about?”
His grin widens, venomous. “If you back out today without giving us a match, I’ll make sure your gym and your name are blacklisted across the board.”
A tight pressure coils in my chest. “You don’t have that kind of power.”
“Maybe, but I have friends in high places who will make it happen.” He snickers.
“I don’t have a replacement for Lisa.”
He laughs. Cold, delighted. “You do, sweetheart. You're the replacement.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re insane if you think I’m fighting Naomi.”
“I’m perfectly sane,” he counters. “I’ve seen your files. You’re in her weight class again. You trained. You’re ready.” His smile deepens. “I assume you’ve been preparing ever since Naomi embarrassed you last time.”
“I’m not doing it.” No matter how much I want to get into that ring so I can beat the shit out of her.
Victor steps even closer, lowering his voice until it drips poison. “This is what’s going to happen. You're going to take Lisa’s place, or she will never see the light of day again.”
My blood turns cold. “What are you talking about?”
He pins me with a malicious stare. “Lisa is somewhere close; she was very eager to fight today. Unfortunately for her, it was a bad decision.” His voice dips into something cruel. “So, now she’s locked away, waiting for you to decide if she gets to breathe after tonight.”
The hatred pulsing through me is volcanic, but I keep my expression carved from stone. There’s only one priority now: Lisa.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But hear me clearly; if anything happens to her, you’ll answer directly to me. And I promise you won’t survive what I have planned for you.”
I turn and walk away, already planning, already calculating, already burning with the need to dismantle him piece by piece.
“Take your time!” he calls after me. “We’ll give you an extra thirty minutes.”
Changed into my fighting gear, I focus on warming myself enough in the next thirty minutes so I don’t hurt myself. I try to find the reasons behind all this, but I can’t. Something isn’t right. I will find out what, but first, the fight.
Hurried steps reach my ears, followed by Boris’s worried voice. “You can’t be serious. You can’t fight instead of Lisa.”
“I can,” I say, steady and unshakable. “And I will,”
“As your coach, I advise you against it.”
I face him fully, my voice sharp with resolve. “I need you not to be rational right now and get your head together, so if I go down, I don’t end up in the hospital.”
He places his hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t have agreed to this. What did he say to you?”
I shrug. “Does it matter?”
“It does,” he insists, breath tight.
I narrow my eyes. “He has Lisa locked up somewhere. I assume he isn't alone. Men like him never are.”
“Bastard,” Boris spits, dragging a hand through his hair. “He had it all planned.”
“What do you mean?”
“N.C was never supposed to fight,” he grinds out. “Rita was the original opponent. Someone switched the lineup before it even hit my desk, and I didn’t question it.”
I grip his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what happened; we need to do something about it. But first, focus on the fight. I need you to be there and lead me through this match.”
His jaw tightens, then he nods. “I’ll be there. Get ready.”
My stomach is in knots as I walk toward the ring, but my stride doesn’t falter. I hear cheers and boos, but I hardly acknowledge them as I focus on my opponent.
Naomi.
Her long blonde hair is in a perfect braid, and she's wearing glittery pink shorts and top. A smirk appears on her face when she sees me, eyeing me up and down. I focus on her face. I need to focus on reading her face and moves if I want to win this. Contrary to what I told Boris, I’m entering this fight with the focus on winning.
There is no other way. I need to win this for me, for Gabriel, and for my gym.
Naomi might think she knows how I fight, or think I’m inexperienced.
She doesn’t know one thing, though, and that is that I get what I want, and I’ll fight for it to the death.
As soon as the bell rings, I tune out everyone and focus.
Naomi comes at me, and before I can react, her hand slashes across my face.
Fire rips across my cheek, and I hiss through my clenched teeth.
I force air into my lungs as I feel the sting of blood running down my cheek.
Seeing her laugh, I raise my guard. She circles me again before lunging.
Her elbows crush into my ribs. Pain shoots through me, and before I can defend, she grabs my hair, jerking my head down as she ends it with a knee to my face.
The ref shoves her away from me. “Cut it out, Naomi! One more and I’ll end it!”
I stagger to my corner with my chest heaving, my ribs screaming, and blood spilling from my face.
Boris gives me water and tends to my wound.
“She's playing dirty, but you already knew that. I need you to focus, and don’t let her distract you.”
The bell echoes again, and I force myself to move forward, focusing on her hands, but she goes low this time. Her shin cracks against my thigh. I lose balance but get back on it in a second.
“Come on. This is too easy,” she shouts before she swings wide at my head. I cover, arms tight, receiving blow after blow.
“No shots to the back of the head!” the ref shouts, and of course, she ignores him. Her fists hit wherever they can.
I clench my jaw and wait, biding my time, because her punches are getting sloppy. I see the opportunity, her chin open, and I shoot forward. My fist connects with her jaw, snapping her head to the side. The crowd erupts just as the bell saves her before I can follow through.
I come into the third round with a fierce fire burning inside me and the realization that I could beat her. Only that fire is lost to me as soon as her fist slams into my ribs again. This time, I can’t hold. Air leaves my lungs in a rush, my knees buckling.
The crowd roars. I guess they’re cheering for my loss.
Naomi stands over me. “Stay down; that’s where you belong. Do you see him, how disappointed he is in you?”
My eyes move and land on Gabriel. I can’t see clearly, but I can see the clench of his jaw. Is he mad at me? Or because of me?
“He will never be yours. He still cares about me. In his own way, there are things we shared that you and he never will.” I hear her, but my eyes follow Gabriel as he leaves, and I can’t see him anymore.
I hear the ref calling me. “Valentina, are you good? Show me something!”
I force myself to stand, my legs trembling. Even with my vision tunneled, I lift my fist. “I’m not done.”
Naomi grins. “You stupid bitch.”
“No, you're stupid if you think I’m going to let you talk about Gabriel. You cheating bitch.”
She’s angry as she lunges, making her careless.
I duck under her hook and come up with an uppercut that cracks against her chin.
Her head snaps back, her body jerking. I don’t stop, don’t let the gasp of the crowd distract me as I keep punching.
Left, right, left, right. My fists are fire, smashing into her face, letting out all the rage I carry on behalf of Gabriel and me.
My fist smashes into her, driving her backwards.
Naomi stumbles, arms flailing, but I chase her down, every punch a roar from my aching body.
Her back hits the ropes, and I pin her there, raining punches until her body sags, her eyes glassy.
The ref grabs me, showing through the crowd. “Enough! She’s finished!”
I freeze, my chest heaving, blood dripping down my face, and my ribs screaming. Naomi is crumpled on the floor, unmoving, and I couldn’t care less.
The referee lifts my hand, declaring me the winner, but the roar of the crowd fades beneath the pounding in my ears. My gaze sweeps the arena, searching, needing to find the one face that should be running toward me right now.
But Gabriel isn’t here.
This is the moment I dreamed of, him here with me, pulling me into his arms, lifting me off my feet with that fierce, unstoppable pride only he has for me. The moment he kisses me like the victory belongs to us both.
Finally, I see him. Our eyes lock across the chaos.
His stare hits me like a punch; proud, burning, possessive. I smile as I watch him approach me, but he changes direction, not leading him toward me, but toward my fear.