After She Falls, page 33
Her uncle’s face darkens. “Gone.”
The finality in his voice alarms her. “Gone?”
“He was arrested last night,” Max explains, his face hardening all over again. “He’s in the hospital now, but then he’s going to jail.”
Shock fills her as his words sink in, followed by a deep wave of relief—until she glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand and realizes what time it is. “Am I still fighting Gemma tonight?” she asks, sitting up quickly before gasping at the searing pain near her rib cage.
Max hurries to her side. “No way, Adri. Your side looks really bad. And your face is . . .”
“What? What’s wrong with my face?” She looks around for a mirror until he reluctantly brings her one. Her heart sinks as she examines every angle of her face, taking in all the new bruises and cuts. Her right eye is badly swollen, and everything aches, but her rib hurts the most.
“I’m going to tell them to put in Tosha,” Max says quietly.
“What?” Her head snaps up. “No!”
“They’re not going to let you fight without a physical—”
“Then schedule one,” she demands, giving him a fierce look. “I’m fighting tonight.”
He groans. “Adri . . .”
“Please, Max.” She sits up straighter and almost gasps again but presses her lips together, hiding the pain. She lightly pushes her hand against her side, searching for the most sensitive part. It burns with pain, but she presses harder, testing how much she can take. “Can one of you help me up? I need to walk around.”
Max tries to protest, but she’s adamant, so he helps her slowly stand. At first, she feels off balance, but she gradually regains her footing. She catches a glimpse of herself in the room’s massive gilded mirror and frowns at her reflection. She doesn’t look terribly intimidating with her battered face and crumpled black dress, but she’s determined. As she throws a few punches, she notes the way her torso throbs as her arm extends and retracts. Thankfully, the more she throws, the less she notices the pain. It won’t be easy, but she can still fight.
“Please.” She looks pleadingly at Max. “Schedule the physical. I’ll pass it.”
“Adri . . .”
“Please, Max.” On some level, he must’ve sensed that she would still want to fight, otherwise he would’ve wasted no time calling for a doctor. She looks at Roman next, hoping that he’ll back her up. He looks uneasy, but he doesn’t try to stop her. They both look at Max next, waiting for his answer. “What if it was your fight?” she continues, her voice starting to break. “This is it. This is my chance. Don’t let Owen take it away—”
“Okay,” he says finally, as her heart leaps with hope. “I’ll schedule it.” But concern is etched all over his face. “I would be lying if I said I wanted you to fight like this, but . . .”
She smiles faintly. “You know I’m going to anyway?”
He sighs and gently pulls her to him. She winces, but she pushes the pain away as she looks up at him. His eyes are full of doubt, but the doubt seems to fade the longer he looks at her.
“Just win, okay?”
31
THE CORONET DOME is lit up like never before as fans pack the seats. Electronic music shakes the speakers and sends a shiver of adrenaline up Adri’s spine as she watches everything from the television screen in her locker room. Clips of her and Gemma—both looking their fiercest—replay endlessly on the jumbotron, high above a fleet of commentators seated near the cage. Adri listens as they discuss her personal life like it’s just another highlight reel.
“In a shocking turn of events, Rivera’s husband, Owen Anders, a former fighter, was arrested last night—”
“Her ex-husband, actually,” someone quickly corrects him.
“Oh, right, her ex-husband, my apologies.” He clears his throat and glances down at something on the table before continuing. “Yes . . . Owen Anders, once a prolific fighter from Miami, was arrested last night after an altercation that left Rivera injured, though not seriously.”
“Thank God,” Melissa Medlock adds, seated nearby.
He nods. “Absolutely, but obviously these aren’t ideal conditions for Rivera as she enters the cage tonight, especially against a fighter like Stone.”
Boom steps in front of the television, blocking Adri’s view. “That’s enough of that. Time to warm up.” Adri nods, and they fly through her best combinations. Owen almost fractured her rib, so her abdomen is wrapped with gauze and tape, but the tape keeps unraveling the more she moves. Boom notices and frowns. “You’re going to protect that rib for me, right?”
As she toys with the loosening tape, her heart sinks. Both Boom and Max want her to leave it wrapped, but she knows it won’t make a difference. Gemma will go after her injury whether it’s taped up or not. She faces Boom in her fighting stance and signals to her rib cage. “Try to hit me.”
Max’s face darkens as Boom cautiously goes for a light punch near her rib. Adri blocks that one, then another, but the tape scrapes against her skin as it continues peeling off.
She sighs. “I just need to unwrap it, guys.” She looks to Max, and he reluctantly unwinds it, slowly revealing the large welt blooming against her skin. Even just his light touch stings, but she ignores the pain.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
She nods, scared but sure. He nods back, his face still uncertain.
When an official knocks on her door to let them know that it’s almost time to go, Boom hugs her tightly. “Rocco told me this morning that you’re his favorite fighter,” he says. “He said he likes you even more than Cyrus Saber, so that’s a pretty big deal for him.”
She smiles and turns to Max next, and he holds out her robe and helps her slip it on over her gold sports bra and shorts. La Tormenta shines across her back. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
He hugs her, too, and Adri lingers in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, which momentarily slows her own. “Rocky Balboa would be proud,” he says against her hair, making her laugh. “Danny Lyons would be proud.” Her laughter softens into a sad smile. “Dalila Rivera would be proud too.” Tears fill her eyes as his arms tighten around her before he turns her toward the door. “Let’s go.” She can sense that he doesn’t really want to let her go, but eventually he does.
As the three of them walk down the narrow hallway, toward her tunnel, the sounds from the dome get louder and louder. Elaborate purple and white lights swivel, illuminating the cage and the crowded seats, where thousands of fans hold signs and shout her name as cameras glide around them, capturing everything. When they reach the opening, Adri’s walk-in song—“The Final Bell”—rattles the walls, and she loves it as much as she did the first time she heard it as a little girl watching Rocky for the first time.
As she makes her way to the cage, she pauses to look up at the suites. She can’t see anyone, of course, but she knows they’re all there—Roman, Yvonne, Skye, Enzo, Rocco, and Eva. Eva is probably waving furiously at her while Roman watches through the glass, his mouth moving in a silent prayer.
Adri draws a shaky breath. Gemma walked out first, so she’s already waiting in the cage, dressed in a dark metallic set that glitters under the moving lights. Her eyes move over Adri’s bruised face and linger near her torso before she smirks coldly. Suddenly, Adri remembers what she said about Skye so many months ago.
“I’m going to finish her in the first round.”
Her stomach tightens with fear. Gemma has the same vindictive gleam in her eye now, but Adri’s falling confidence is bolstered when she realizes the crowd is clearly on her side. They’re still cheering for her, and some are even on their feet.
Gemma notices, too, and scowls. Linc stands behind her, in her corner along with a team of coaches, and he stares menacingly in Adri’s direction.
“This is it, folks, this is the moment.” A familiar voice fills the dome, narrating the night’s events. “For the win, for fifty thousand dollars, for the title of Coronet Strawweight Champion . . . Who will take it all? Who has the will to win tonight?”
In the few seconds remaining before the fight begins, Adri’s mind races to the night before, the day before, the weeks before, the months before—every moment of torture, of training, of progress. She imagines Owen, finally locked away in a cage of his own and feels a twinge of pity mingled with satisfaction. In some ways, she almost understands him and the rage that fuels him. Without Roman and Dalila’s guidance, she might’ve grown up to be cruel and controlling too. Adri frowns. Unlike her, Owen never discovered the incredible power of love and forgiveness. She prays one last time as she waits for the referee’s signal, but she doesn’t pray to win. Instead, she just offers up a silent, sincere thank-you for her freedom.
When the referee takes his place in the center, it feels as if everything is moving in slow motion until she and Gemma tap their gloves together. Then, in an instant, time speeds up again, and Adri’s senses sharpen as Gemma throws fast, hard punches, immediately making her move around the cage. Adri tries to fend her off, but Gemma moves around expertly, easily anticipating what Adri will do next.
“This is an unexpected matchup if there ever was one, folks. Our number-eight seed is fighting the number-one seed, and it’s showing. Rivera’s holding her own out there, but this looks personal for Stone. She’s got Rivera on the run—”
“Shots to the body, Gemma!” Linc barks, in unison with her coaches. “Body! Body! Body!”
Gemma doesn’t listen to them, though. She’s enjoying keeping Adri on the defense, throwing constant jabs at her face and trying to pull her down every chance she gets. Adri’s chest rises and falls as she tries to catch her breath and find an opening, but Gemma is relentless. Panic fills her as the first round drags on.
“Just take her down, Gemma!” one of her coaches screams. “Don’t stand with her!”
Gemma shoots in and almost manages to take her down, but Adri sprawls just in time, gritting her teeth as Gemma claws at her side.
“Hang in there, Adri!” Boom yells. “You’ve got another ten seconds!”
Adri does everything she can to keep Gemma from getting the mount that she so desperately wants, but her side throbs painfully as Gemma tries to yank her off balance. Max’s warning rings in her ears, filling her with dread as she shoves away her grasping hands. If Gemma gets her on the ground, even for a just a few seconds, Adri knows it’ll be over.
Finally, the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the first round, and the referee pulls them apart, but not before Gemma gives her a quick, hard shove. Adri’s anger bubbles up as the crowd responds with cheers and grumbles, but Adri doesn’t react. Instead, she just retreats to her own corner, where Max is waiting for her. She doesn’t have any extra energy to waste.
Adri sits down heavily as he splashes cool water on her face. “She won that round,” she says glumly, wanting him to disagree, but he nods. Her confidence deflates until she notices the small smile playing on his lips.
“What?” she asks, as he discreetly applies ice to her abdomen, helped by Boom, who blocks them both from Gemma’s view. They don’t need to give her any more reasons to attack Adri’s injury.
“Did you hear what her coach said?” Max asks.
She frowns, trying to remember, but her mind and body are too overwhelmed with adrenaline and fatigue.
“He told her not to stand with you for much longer. Apparently, she can’t handle a real striker.” He looks her squarely in the eye. “We already knew that, but it’s nice to know that they know it too.”
Adri exhales, encouraged but still intimidated. She wanted to throw more punches in the first round, but she was too afraid of opening herself up to more takedown attempts.
“Commit to the plan and follow through, Adri,” Max says firmly, capturing her attention again. “Faith or fear—you pick. You’re taking a big chance either way.”
She nods, understanding, as he helps her up again. She can keep retreating, or she can trust the power inside of her and advance.
She begins the second round with fresh resolve, but Gemma seems equally determined. Her punches and kicks land hard, numbing Adri’s already battered body, but Adri throws just as many as she does this time, countering every punch with one of her own and landing some powerful ones, much to the delight of the crowd.
Behind her, Max and Boom scream for her to keep going, their voices growing more hopeful as the round goes on. A few more minutes in, Adri feels the momentum building in her favor—until Gemma lunges forward, surprising her. She rams her body against Adri’s, purposefully throwing all of her weight against her injured torso as she tries to take her down again.
A gasp of shock and rage escapes Adri’s lips as pain overwhelms her senses, but she moves instinctively thanks to her training, bearing down just in time so Gemma can’t pull her to the mat. Clearly frustrated, Gemma drags her to the side of the cage instead and pins her there. Adri realizes what her plan is and panics—Gemma’s going to throw her signature elbow strikes there instead of on the ground, with Adri’s face and torso trapped between her and the cage door.
Adri barely dodges the first elbow, but Gemma immediately follows up with a brutal punch to her abdomen, as close to her injury as she can get. Adri doubles over in pain as the crowd gasps, and the referee hovers over them, ready to end the fight if Adri can’t recover quickly enough. She sees tiny silver stars as she forces herself to straighten again, but she manages to stand tall despite the staggering pain.
As Gemma keeps her trapped in place, throwing more elbows and jabs, Adri feels her victory slipping away like sand in an hourglass. When Gemma lands another solid punch to her torso, tears run down Adri’s cheeks, but she barely notices them now—she’s too numb. There’s a strange high-pitched whistling sound in her ears as she takes more blows.
She knows Max and Boom are probably yelling at her to break free, and that the crowd is screaming for her to fight back, and that her uncle and Eva are likely praying with their faces pressed against the glass, but her body feels temporarily paralyzed with pain even though the still, small voice in her head urges her not to quit.
Gemma’s eyes narrow when she survives yet another heavy hit to her rib, and, in that moment, Adri forgets that she’s losing and throws a heavy punch of her own. The crowd roars when it makes impact with Gemma’s chin, stunning her long enough that Adri pries herself free from her grasp. By then, there’s only a few seconds left in the second round, so she finishes it with everything she has, landing a steady stream of punches that make Gemma’s coaches spring up and bang on the cage as they shout new, frantic instructions at her. When the bell finally rings, they both retreat to their corners, equally rattled this time.
“Adri, listen,” Max says, his voice deadly serious as he quickly tends to her wounds. “This next round, she knows she can’t stand with you, so she’s going to do anything to take you to the ground.” When his eyes meet hers, she can see the fear in them. And hope. “You have to finish it, okay? Finish it now.”
Adri’s heart races as the pressure mounts, but she knows he’s right. Gemma’s desperation is written all over her face when they meet in the center again for what Adri knows will be the final round. Every move that they make in the next five minutes will determine who leaves the cage a champion tonight.
“Gemma, take her down!” Linc shrieks as the round begins. “Finish it!”
Gemma obeys, roughly grabbing Adri around the waist, but, after so many attempts, Adri is ready for her this time. She sends her elbow down, slamming it against Gemma’s temple. The crowd erupts when she stumbles backward, and Adri gets her with a hook before pushing her against the cage. Gemma fights back, but Adri releases a stream of blows to her face.
“Gemma, focus!” one of her coaches screams. “Cover up and get out of there!”
Gemma covers her face and manages to sneak in a sharp uppercut to Adri’s injured torso—her hardest one yet. She smirks through her mouthguard as Adri staggers. “You feel that one, Rivera?”
She’s about to pull Adri to the ground, but Adri surprises her with a sudden burst of counterpunches, one of which hits Gemma squarely in the face with a sickeningly loud crunch. Adri watches as blood pours from her opponent’s broken nose, and a heavy hush falls over the dome as Gemma touches her face, clearly stunned.
Adri looks her in the eye. “Feel that one?”
Gemma’s face contorts with rage as they exchange more blows, both more determined than ever now. Adri’s body burns all over, but she doesn’t stop punching, not for one second. Eventually, she manages to force Gemma to one side of the cage, near where Max stands.
“Finish the fight right here, Adri,” she hears him say. “It’s yours.”
His voice fans the flame inside her as Gemma doubles over, trying to protect herself from Adri’s relentless strikes. All Adri can hear is the sound of her own labored breathing as more blood continues to pour from Gemma’s nose, covering them both.
“Get away from her, Gemma!” Linc screeches. “Get away!”
Gemma tries her best, but she can’t escape, so she stays hunched over but continues clawing at Adri’s rib, doing whatever she can to inflict the most pain. For a brief moment, she’s reminded of Owen. For years, Owen found all the things that mattered most to her—her passion for fighting, her freedom, her love for Eva—and those were the things he used to inflict the most pain. Now, Gemma is the one trying to use that pain against her . . . but Adri can use it too.
She inhales, drawing fresh determination to finish the task in front of her, still aware of her weaknesses but even more aware of her growing strength. When Gemma sends another vicious punch toward her rib cage, Adri blocks it, shocking everyone. Thinking fast, she uses that split second of surprise to throw her most powerful hook yet, hoping it’ll be her last. The crowd gasps in unison as Adri’s fist makes contact and Gemma’s head snaps in the opposite direction. The Coronet Dome falls silent—then explodes—as her body falls gracefully to the mat, landing with a soft thud.
