The lockers behind me were once painted black. Before then, they were red. You can tell by the layers of paint peeling away on each and every one of them.

A faucet drips in the shower room next to the locker area I’ve been put in while I wait my turn in the ring. The room on the other side of the showers is a little nicer and most fighters pick it … and that’s why I pick this one. I’m alone.

Not talking to Camilla last night or all day today seemed like a good idea. But I’m starting to wonder if it was a mistake. I thought I could focus on the fight, but all I’ve managed is a knot in my stomach that I can’t get to go away.

Winning this fight is a must-do. I’ve trained for it, battered myself for it, and I could use the money. Why I can’t block everything else out and feel good about my strategy not only confuses me, it pisses me off.

I trained through the police investigation when I was a kid. I trained through work lay-offs and break-ups with girlfriends and working two jobs. I even managed to focus when I was working towards my HVAC certification. Now, the final fight of my life, and I’m losing my edge.

The crowd roars outside and I hear the announcer over the intercom tell the fans to settle down. It’s insane out there, bottles being thrown and brawls starting in the crowd. The energy in this arena, an old warehouse, is all jacked up. That is a distraction in itself.

Voices come down the hall and I listen as they echo. I make out Nate and know it’s his fist that slams on the metal door before he opens it.

“Hey,” he says, his head sticking in. “How you doin’?”

“Ready to roll.”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” He steps in, but still blocks the door. There’s something in his face that causes that knot in my stomach to twist harder. “This will excite you some more. Look what I found.”

His arm comes off the doorframe and Camilla walks around the corner. She’s working her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at me with wide, curious eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I yell, springing to my feet. “Damn it, Camilla! Can’t you fucking listen to anything I say?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you I was here,” she whispers.

“Oh, because that makes it okay. Fuck!” I groan, throwing her what must be a death stare because she flinches, her face paling, but she holds her ground.

She walks to me, her chin up, posture straight, and puts her hand on my arm. I just look at it.

“You do realize I’m expending all the rage I need to be spilling out there, right? When the other guy is trying to kill me?”

“I just wanted to support you.”

“You could’ve done that from home,” I seethe.

“Yes, I could’ve. But I wanted, needed, to make sure you’re okay.”

“There are a thousand people out there just dying to do something stupid tonight and now you are in the mix. How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate when I’m going to be worried about you?”

“How was I supposed to be sitting at home and not worrying about you? Damn it, Dominic! Don’t you understand?”

I force a swallow, my eyes trying not to see the emotion in hers.

“This is important to me. You are important to me.”

“You are important to me too,” I gulp. “That’s why I don’t want you here.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insists. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

I look at Nate. He understands. He shakes his head in frustration with Camilla, but knows better than to get involved.

“Are you alone?” I ask her.

“Yes.”

“Of course you are.” Hearing the fight before mine coming to an end, I scramble for a solution. “Nate, get her a seat somewhere high. Out of the way.”

“I can take care of myself,” she says, narrowing her bright blue eyes.

“Cam, baby, most days I’d say you’re right. Tonight, you’re wrong.” I look at my brother. “Somewhere high.”

“I could keep her with me,” he offers.

“Fuck, no,” I hiss. “The closer you get to the ring, the more shoving and shit happens. Get her out of the way.”

“I’m right here,” she insists. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

“We know you’re here. That’s the problem.” I set my sights back on her. Her attempt at blending in is adorable. Jeans, white sneakers, and a pale purple shirt. “You don’t look like the average fight fan.”

“Don’t be an ass, Dom,” she says, fighting the tears in her eyes. “Come on, Nate. Lead me to my seat.”

They turn but stop.

“Hey, Dom,” Hannah says over the top of their heads. “You about ready to head down to the ring?”

Camilla casts me one final look over her shoulder, a look so full of hurt and anger that I have to close my eyes from seeing it. I know if I don’t, I’ll be going after her, and I just need to get through this.

When I open them, she’s gone.