Page 117 of Pulse
“Why’s that?”
She smirked as I let go. “You’re a good challenge.”
I smiled right back. “Ditto.”
“Don’t hold back.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Okay ladies, you know the rules,” the referee said, looking at Fury and then at me to make sure we were listening. “Fight until one of you taps or can’t continue. It’s the Championship, so give the people a good show.”
I didn’t even stop to wonder what the prize for winning the Championship was. I hadn’t even looked, but I’m sure it was a pretty penny. Whatever it was, I’m sure it would go a long way towards helping the people I loved.
Fury blew me a kiss and I smirked, toeing the line. The referee raised his hand and held, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
The whistle blew, his hand dropped and it was on.
I darted forward, jabbing with my left and as Fury’s guard lowered to block, I threw with my right. My fist clipped her forearm as she backed off a step, the crowd cheering. Obviously, she’d been training with the same thing in mind. Do the unexpected.
I tested her a few more times and when she did the same we were at a deadlock. We circled, each of us looking for an opening. It wasn’t going to be an easy fight, or a short one.
Fury punched and I was too slow to bring my guard up and her fist connected with my eyebrow. I felt the impact split through my skull the same moment the sensation of ripping skin pulsed through my forehead. Then the warm trickle of blood as I twisted out of reach of her left hook, which was coming back to clean me up.
She smirked at me as I shook my head and put her guard back up.
The thing I liked about Fury was that she didn’t talk during fights. She didn’t taunt to try and put me off; she used her skill to best her opponents. It only meant that this win would be sweeter because I was fighting the best.
We circled for what felt like an hour, getting a few punches and kicks in, grappling and breaking away. Someone had to take a risk soon, because this fight was going to go on until one of us dropped dead from exhaustion and that could take hours.
I’d split Fury’s lip and I think I’d cracked one of her ribs and still she refused to slow. My eyebrow was throbbing like a bitch and I knew I’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. Black and fucking blue.
Fury made the first move. She lunged with a roar, and I stumbled back, hitting the cage. She pinned me, shoving her forearm against my neck and sunk a punch right into my stomach. The air whooshed from my lungs and with a cry I brought my arms up and locked around her upper body, trying to wrestle my way free.
My vision pricked as she pressed her arm against my wind pipe and sunk another punch into my guts. For some reason, the only thing I could think about was Hulk smashing. Where the hell that came from I didn’t know, but as Fury went to clock me with a third punch, I shoved against her with all my strength.
She stumbled one step, then two, her body off balance and I struck.
I had to go hard or go home and I was definitely not going home.
I attacked, smashing my shoulder into her stomach. I hooked my arm around her knee and grasped her wrist in my other hand and then I hauled her onto my upper back and heaved. Fury sailed through the air and landed hard on her back, her eyes widening. The crowd cheered and whistled, calling for blood. I almost had her.
I stepped forward and raised my fist for the final blow. One punch, right onto her temple. One-Shot Miller. Her eyes met mine and she knew it was over.
Fury slammed her fist on the mat and just like that, it was over.
Reign of Terror had won.
I’d won.
Fancy that.
