Chapter 19 #2
Kai leaned over my shoulder to read the sheet, his breath warm on my neck.
“These guys look like they take this way too seriously.”
I huffed. “They always do.”
He didn’t move away. “And you?”
I shrugged, tightening the wraps around my wrists. “I’m here to hit something legally.”
He grinned, and the sight of it sent my heart racing.
But when his gaze slid past me to the actual cage at the center of the rec hall — a regulation octagon surrounded by tall steel fencing — I saw something flicker across his face.
This wasn’t like watching me hit pads in the garage. This wasn’t playful sparring where he kissed my bruises and pretended they hurt him more than they hurt me.
It was bodies crashing into steel with full force, sweat and blood coating the canvas, and people tapping or not tapping quickly enough.
The real fucking thing.
“You okay?” I cast a quick glance at his profile.
His swallow was audible, his warm breath dancing over the exposed skin of my shoulder. “Watching you do this is … different.”
“Different bad?”
“Different ‘holy hell, my girl might kill someone.’”
My girl.
I pretended not to react, while he pretended not to notice I was pretending.
The announcer called my division to warm up over the microphone.
I flexed my fingers, exhaled, and rolled my shoulders. Trying to ignore the roar of the crowd building, the sound of fists hitting pads and the metallic clank of the cage door opening and closing between bouts, I tried to focus.
Kai touched my elbow. “Hey.”
I looked up.
“You good?” his deep voice rumbled from behind me. I could almost feel the heat of his body seeping through my thin rash guard.
I’d become so attuned to his scent and the proximity of his body, I'd almost developed a sixth sense for his presence. Something deep inside me always knew when he was nearby.
Ain’t that a bitch.
I turned and nearly smacked into his chest. Apparently, personal space was theoretical to him. His brilliant white teeth flashed as his full lips pulled into a grin, and I allowed myself to rake my eyes over his body again.
This man was built like a fucking brick wall, and the white shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide it. Thick and impenetrable, stacked with muscles and carrying just the right amount of softness around his middle.
He wasn't trying to show off; he was just so big, even the massive shirt he wore — triple XL, I checked — somehow wasn't able to conceal his bulk. Fuck, I was so here for it.
Jesus Christ, I needed to get a grip.
“Fine.”
“Go show them what you can do.” His words were soft, almost reverent.
A steady, grounding heat spread through my chest.
“Yeah,” I choked out. “I plan to.”
I tightened the wrap around my wrist and kept my breathing steady. I needed this, needed something to remind me how strong and capable I was.
Once I stepped into the octagon, I wouldn't be the girl drowning in bills, responsibilities, and choices I didn't want to make.
“You didn’t have to come,” I told him gruffly, tearing my eyes away from him. Bad Tori.
“Yeah, I did.” Casually, he wrapped his long fingers around my wrist. “Couldn’t let you beat people up without an audience.”
I rolled my eyes, but a warmth fluttered in my chest anyway. I was in deep shit.
Kai looked around like a kid at a carnival. He liked this, I realized, he liked being here … with me.
Which was precisely why I needed to focus.
I stepped forward when they called my group. My stomach tightened the way it always did before a fight, a mix of nerves and adrenaline.
Kai tipped his head to one side and studied me with furrowed brows. Then he leaned down. “Hey.” His voice dropped to a gentle baritone, the deep sound reverberating through my very bones. “You’ve got this.”
I hated how much his words helped.
Somehow, Kai had wormed his way past all my defenses and become a consistent presence in my life. No, not just consistent — important. Whenever he was around, I didn’t feel so untethered.
Most of the time, it felt like I was just along for the ride, and no matter how hard I tried to take control, it always felt like someone else was driving.
But with Kai, it was different. Kai anchored me in a way no one else ever had before, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
He’s leaving. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving.
Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him and gave him a curt nod.
“Thanks.”
Surprising me utterly, he pulled me towards him and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head. When he let go and I stepped back, my cheeks burning, he gave me his signature smile and hitched a thumb over his shoulder.
“I’ll be over there, cheering you on.”
Then he turned around without another word. I forced my gaze away from him, refusing to stare at his retreating back — his impossibly broad, sexy back — like a dumbass and turned to the mat.
Time to hopefully not get my ass kicked.
The cage always smelled the same. Metal. Sweat. Tape.
There was a hint of antiseptic, but it never quite managed to conceal the reality of what happened inside.
The crowd pressed close around the octagon, heat rising from every direction, lights glaring white across the canvas floor. Somewhere above us, the announcer’s voice boomed, muffled by the endless chatter, shouts and adrenaline.
I flexed my fingers as I slipped on my gloves, chewing on the mouthguard. My braids were tied tight enough to hurt, just as they should be.
As I stepped into the cage, I tuned out everything except my opponent.
My opponent was tall, with an impressive reach, but her stance immediately told me everything I needed to know. Her hands were high, but her elbows were flared, and she held her chin a little too proudly. It was obvious she had a Muay Thai background but lacked the discipline.
I circled, light on my toes, before she threw a long, predictable jab. Easy to slip. I angled off to her weak side, caught her overcommitted weight and ducked under her cross. Pressing my shoulder into her hip, I swept her with a textbook-clean double-leg takedown.
Her back hit the mat with an echoing slap.
There was a round of whistles and someone shouted, “Nice level change!”
I immediately moved to secure top position, keeping my knees tight and my hips low, before she could scramble. She bridged hard, trying to buck me off. I rode with the motion, sensing her desperation, and then slid into side control.
She tapped soon after, attempting to choke me out but never managing to finish the move.
Behind the fence, Kai roared, “That’s my gi — uh — my Tori!”
Much as I wanted to, I didn't look.
But God, I felt his gaze, his presence.
Fight two came faster than I’d anticipated when they shuffled the field around because of an injury. Her name was Marisol, and I’d seen her around in previous tournaments. She was built like a small tank, with broad shoulders and thick legs.
The kind of fighter who preferred pressure over finesse. A wrestler, judging by her low stance and the way she measured distance — patient, calculating.
“Light contact,” the ref said out of habit.
Marisol cracked her neck with a smirk. “Sure.”
We touched gloves, and then she exploded forward.
Her first right-hand blow sliced past my cheek, sloppy but close enough to sting. The shock of it brought my focus into sharp relief. Marisol followed with a tight left hook aimed at my liver, which I didn't manage to block quickly enough.
It wasn’t placed correctly, but the impact still rattled my ribs.
She didn’t give me any space and didn’t allow me to draw breath with her classic wrestler tactics. She crowded the cage, bullied the space and tried to suffocate me.
Her forearms crashed into mine as she drove me backward. The chain-link fence dug into my shoulders as she shot low for a body lock takedown.
As her arms cinched around my waist, she squeezed and tried to drag me down by sheer force. For a heartbeat, she had me but then instinct kicked in.
I lowered my center of gravity, widened my stance and dug in my underhooks, sliding my arms inside hers to break her grip. She adjusted, attempting to lift me, but I hooked my leg around hers and pivoted sharply.
Marisol’s forward momentum betrayed her, and I used it against her with a harai goshi — a sweeping hip throw — sending her flipping over my hip.
She landed flat on her back.
The crowd gasped, then erupted with a roar and above all of it, Kai yelled, “That’s how it’s fucking done! That’s what I’m talking about!”
Heat flared in my cheeks, but I stepped back into stance as Marisol rose, grinning wide and bloodthirsty.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Let’s go.”
She was smarter in the second round, using more balance and less brute force. Testing my guard with sharp jabs, she forced me to defend high before attacking low.
When I sprawled, she switched to uppercuts. I blocked one; the next one slipped through and hit my jaw so hard, I saw stars at the edges of my vision.
The crowd winced as one, but I didn’t back down.
Marisol swung again with a big overhand right, telegraphed but powerful. I stepped inside the arc of her punch, letting it skim past, and countered with a tight elbow cutting across her eyebrow. Blood welled instantly.
We clinched, her sweat slicking against mine. Our breaths collided, ragged, hot, and furious.
She tried to trip me, but I used her leg movement to trap her shin, driving my weight forward in an old-school grappling move called a knee tap takedown. This sent her to the mat again, messier this time.
Marisol scrambled to get up, but I caught her by the back of her neck, my arms around her, my chest against her spine.
She knew what was coming and let out a shriek of fury.
Got you, bitch.
Sliding my forearm under her jaw, I went for the rear-naked choke. Her hands clawed at mine in a futile attempt to fight back, refusing to tap even as her breath stuttered.
“Breathe,” I panted.
She held out for another moment and then her hand tapped against my forearm.
The ref pulled us apart, and I propped my hands on my hips as I caught my breath.
I stood in the center of the octagon, with blood — hers and mine — on my knuckles, sweat cooling on my spine and my lungs burning in the best way.
The ref lifted my wrist and I smiled because I knew what he was going to call.
“Winner!”
Noise flooded the arena and adrenaline pounded through my veins as he raised my arm in victory.
And, pressed to the fence of the cage with eyes blazing with pride, was Kai.
The cause of my downfall, wearing his dazzling smile.
I was fucked with a capital F.
Returning his smile, the victory was settling into my bones like warming sunshine.
Kai vaulted the fence — actually vaulted it — and rushed over.
“That was insane!” he yelled over the noise, grabbing my shoulders with both hands before realizing maybe he shouldn’t. He hesitated, looking nervous. “Can I…?”
When I nodded enthusiastically, he lifted me clear off the ground in a bear hug which absolutely violated several gym policies.
“You tossed that woman like a sack of potatoes!” His voice was muffled by my hair, but he sounded delighted.
I snorted against his chest. “Put me down.”
And he did, slowly, like he was savoring the feel of my body against his. Even then, he didn’t step away immediately. His hands stayed on my arms, warm and steadying.
He lowered his head to meet my gaze, inky black strands of hair falling into his forehead. “You alright?”
For a second, I wasn’t surrounded by a crowd. I wasn’t stressed about money or responsibility or my grandmother having a conga-line funeral plan.
It was just Kai and me, lost in the moment.
His concern wasn't suffocating or trying to take over; it anchored me.
“I’m good,” I replied quietly, looking deep into his brown eyes.
Kai grinned. “Yeah, you are. You’re bloody brilliant.”
My chest tightened because I didn’t want him to make things easier just by being there or to make me feel so much lighter.
But he did.
Every single time.
I grabbed my water bottle, breaking the moment before it swallowed me whole.
“You can’t yell like that every time I fight.”
“I absolutely can.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
“Bet.”
I groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“Nah.” He walked beside me out of the cage, matching my pace without missing a beat. “I just believe in you.”
It shouldn’t have hit me the way it did.
But God did it ever.
It hit me harder than it should’ve. Maybe it was because out of everyone in my life, he was the one who said it like it was a simple truth.
Like it wasn’t even a question.
Suddenly, the weight I carried felt just a little less crushing. Not because he took it away, but because he stood by me while I carried it.
And this realization was almost more crushing than anything else. Wanting him, wanting what he made me feel, was dangerous.
I closed my eyes for a second to steady myself.
I couldn’t afford this, not with him leaving.
When I opened them, Kai was already watching me, his expression painfully soft.
“I’m proud of you.”
His words landed like a punch straight to the sternum and I looked away. I had to before I did something stupid, like believe him.