Chapter 13
Thirteen
MICAH
J ust an exhibition match.
Just.
That’s how I kept playing through it in my head, minimizing it in some attempt to calm the anxiety sauntering around in there.
Some shit that had never happened before.
Which… only further contributed to said anxiety.
I’d never just not seen a fight before.
One time I’d cut it close, not dreaming about it until hours ahead of final weigh-in, but this?
This was new.
And it was fucking me up.
Had I fucked something up?
I mean… there had to be a price to pay for intervening— almost intervening—in that vision between Rhea and Santiago. If I hadn’t had any visions in the week that had passed since then, I’d be concerned that losing them entirely was my penance.
Instead, it appeared that I was losing my crutch.
So, the question became—how much difference had it made all these years, to know before the first punch was ever thrown that I’d exit the ring victorious? I’d always told myself that knowing just gave me confidence, but I mean…
There that just shit was again.
Fuuuuuck.
Now was really not the time.
In about three minutes I’d be stepping into the ring, not to defend my title, but who was anybody kidding?
A loss here would be embarrassing, whether it was “official” or not.
An exhibition match was about entertainment, a chance to get experience, promote shit, whatever.
But it was not some risk-free event.
The result here could present a blow to my reputation.
Fuck.
Was this what the minutes before a fight started had been like for everybody else all these years?
It was… shit.
Debilitating.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, shifting from one foot to the other as the announcer’s voice vibrated through the air.
“Making his way to the ring, the undisputed, undefeated heavyweight champion…Micah ‘Ace of Spades’ McKnight!”
I stepped forward, my team surrounding me as we pushed through the dark tunnel toward the ring. Someone patted me hard on the back, offering a word of encouragement I barely registered. I rolled my shoulders, loosening muscles, fighting to clear my mind.
The energy of the crowd, people chanting my name, the blur of lights… usually that stuff got me locked in, laser-focused, ready to dominate.
Tonight, the noise faded into the background, overshadowed by the strange new pulse of uncertainty that wouldn’t let go of me.
Something flashed in my peripheral and my head jerked toward it, alert, tense.
Just a camera flash.
Relax, I told myself as I climbed into the ring, my eyes scanning the front row on all sides, looking for?—
“I’m right here.”
Mmm.
There was instant relief in the confirmation of Rhea’s presence in the building. I followed the feeling and found her looking good as fuck seated next to Delaney. Seeing her face quieted most of the anxiety, but something must’ve still been showing on my face, because she frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing now.”
Rhea lifted an eyebrow as she leaned forward, giving me an excellent view of her cleavage in the body-hugging dress she wore. “You sure? You seem… I don’t know. A lil scared. Am I about to watch you get beat up?”
I huffed a quiet laugh through my nose. “You wanna come up here and fight for me? Handle my lightweight?”
“I’m entirely too pretty for that.”
“I’m ugly now? That’s what you’re saying?”
“A little…”
“ Daaaamn.”
“Okay. Time to focus, Micah.”
A playful grin teased her lips.
I was focused.
On her.
But she was right.
She settled back into her seat, that satisfied smile lingering as the bell rang, snapping my attention back to the ring.
I stepped forward, gloves raised, energy surging as I engaged my opponent, a rising star named Terrell Gibson. He was hungry, ambitious, the kid of a former champ, basically groomed for this.
He was fast, moving with precision to land a decent hook I half-deflected before sending a quick jab to his ribs.
W e exchanged a few more cautious punches, dancing around each other. The back and forth helped my adrenaline surge, bringing back my normal rhythm, that familiar comfort of the ring taking over until I stepped back at the bell, ending the round.
“Good work,” Coach G said, towel slung over his shoulder as I sat. He handed me a squeeze bottle of water, cool against my palm as I took a quick swig, then pulled back, scowling.
“What is this shit, tap water?”
G cackled. “You not getting bougie on me now are you?” he asked, then didn’t wait for an answer before he shifted to talking strategy. I was listening, taking in his thoughts in the few moments we had.
Trying, at least.
I couldn’t seem to get my heart rate to come down to a manageable place, couldn’t clear enough sweat from my eyes to clear the blurriness.
The bell sounded, signaling the next round too soon.
Too soon… right?
But everybody else was moving like it was time, so I stood too, my pulse pounding in my ears now.
I shook it off.
All of it.
I raised my fists as Terrell and I approached again, but… fuck.
My moves felt sluggish, imprecise, as we exchanged blows.
And then he clipped my jaw hard enough to make my vision flicker.
“What’s going on?” Rhea’s internal voice cut through the noise, sharp and urgent as I took a step back, trying to get my footing together.
“I don’t know. Something is off.”
My gaze flicked ringside, finding Rhea leaning toward Delaney, urgently whispering something. Delaney nodded, eyes narrowing as she stood quickly and approached my corner.
I couldn’t focus on that, though.
I had to keep moving.
Keep my guard up.
Fists flying.
“ He never guards his body,” Rhea advised. “ If you’re going to keep fighting, use that. ”
There… was only so much I could do.
My head was in the fucking clouds, but I managed to get a few body shots that kept me on my feet until the bell sounded again.
By the time I dropped onto the stool, Delaney was already in the corner, putting a freezing cold towel against the back of my neck.
“You’ve been drugged,” she murmured to me, matter-of-factly. “I smell it in your water.”
Immediately, my gaze shot straight to Coach G, who was already grabbing the bottle. “That’s not possible,” he said. “It’s been with us the whole time.”
“So then it happened before it was with y’all, but it definitely happened,” she snapped, not antagonizing, just very… direct. “Here, drink this.”
“What is it?” I asked, dodging the straw she was trying to aim at my mouth.
“ Just drink it,” Rhea demanded in my head. “ We can trust Delaney.”
“Sugar water,” Delaney answered. “And caffeine. Soda,” she chuckled. “Whatever you’ve been given, it’s likely a fast-acting sedative. So we give you sugar, caffeine, cold to shock your senses, and most importantly, keep your adrenaline up .”
“What?” Coach G exclaimed. “He can’t fight like this. We need to get the ref over here, get a doctor.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head as something in the tunnel caught my attention.
G’s expression dropped. “You serious?”
“Dead serious,” I said, hands flexing inside my gloves, rage curling deep in my gut as Santiago Ruiz stepped out of the shadows in the tunnel, wearing a satisfied smirk. “I’m good. I can fight.”
“Nigga, are you crazy? I can’t let?—”
“I got it, G,” I told him, shaking my head.
“Do you really Micah?” Delaney asked, and my gaze swung in her direction.
“How long can I fight it off?” I asked her, and she gave a half shrug.
“Depends on how much was in there, and how much you drank. It was already getting to you, so probably a lot. I don’t know.”
I took another long sip from the soda she’d offered, trying to get as much of it as I could into my system before I stood, feeling the need to keep myself moving. “So… not long.”
“Look,” Coach G said, hands on my shoulders. “If you’re hellbent on this… stop playing with this little boy,” he said. “Knock his ass out so we can figure out what the fuck is going on.”
I nodded.
He gave my shoulder a sharp tap, just as the bell sounded again.
Round three.
Across the ring, Terrell was already bouncing like he thought he had this in the bag, prompting me to wonder if he knew about this shit, if he was actually part of it.
I didn’t want to believe it, but… yeah.
That’s what I thought I’d seen on his ribs.
Renegados ink .
If he wasn’t in on it, what was about to happen was unfortunate.
I kept my gloves up, moved slower than I could to sell the act, let him think whatever they’d gotten into my water supply was eating at me.
And… it was.
But as long as I was upright, I wasn’t done.
Terrell came in fast, throwing one jab after another. I let the first one graze past and swatted the second aside with my forearm, just enough space to step in, dropping a hook right into his unguarded ribs.
He grunted, backing up quickly as the air expelled from his lungs.
Got ’em.
He circled, trying to reset, but I stayed on him, hitting him in the same spot again. I tried to get in one more, but he’d finally gotten the message. He blocked it, and managed to catch me with a jab that rang in my head louder than it should’ve.
I blinked through the noise.
Focused.
I got him in the chest once, twice.
He staggered.
“That’s your window.”
She was right.
I found his jaw with a quick cross-jab combo, and he dropped. Just like that he was on the mat, the ref shouting out numbers that barely registered.
Counting.
Terrell tried, more than once, to get back on his feet.
The moment never came.
The crowd exploded, loud and messy, but I didn’t even look at them. I turned my head straight toward the tunnel.
Santiago and his fucking smirk was gone.
Of course he was.
Bitch.
The ref grabbed my wrist and lifted it high.
Winner by knockout was supposed to be something to be cocky about, but I couldn’t even soak it in before Delaney and Coach G were on me, helping me out of the ring.
I needed to get out of the public eye before whatever I’d been given fully knocked me on my ass.
Back in the locker room, I dropped onto the bench like my legs had turned into jello. Rhea was quick to crouch in front of me, hands on my face, steadying my gaze.
“When the fuck did he get pulled into the Renegados ?” I asked, before she could say anything. “Did he always have that ink?”
“Nah,” Coach G answered. “It was new. You think this is ’cause of that shit from the club?”
“I know it is,” I said, fighting off the urge to close my eyes. “Somebody… talk to Blue. Tell him… Santiago was back… he was back here…”
“Hey, right now, let’s focus on getting you taken care of,” Rhea said as Delaney pressed another drink into my hand.
“Let’s get going,” she said. “For now, let’s get you either down to Recoverie or up to your suite. We need to get food and electrolytes in you.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue.
I was done for the night.
But there would be hell to pay tomorrow.