The fight isn’t going well. With each kick, headlock, and punch, victory flies more out of reach.

Every time he regains traction only to have it repeatedly taken from him as that guy Vance mutters things that we in the audience can’t hear. Tobias’s face keeps turning red with rage. Something is going on between those two men that’s deeper than this fight.

“It’s his mental state,” I urgently tell Sofia. “He’s fucking with his head! What is he saying?”

“I don’t know,” she gravely mutters. “But it’s gotten under his skin. He’s going to lose.”

“No! He can’t! I shouldn’t have distracted him. He got off to a bad start!”

She and I fly out of our seats with the crowd as Vance takes control in a head lock and throws Tobias’s enormous body to the mat. We shout at the top of our lungs, “Get up, Tobias!” and “Take him out!”

He rolls Vance over like Sofia did with that guy from the swamp, and she and I grab onto each other in suspense. A few well laid punches storm from Tobias’s fingerless gloves and Sofia and I start screaming our heads off along with everyone else. The crowd is half his, half his opponent’s. It’s brutal, both sides going nuts for their fighter, and I can’t take my eyes off the disaster and chaos of it all.

A guy representing Budweiser tells us, “This isn’t about money!” We look over at him. “It’s about revenge! Vance wants to keep his title, and prove he’s the best. Tobias wants to show the world what he’s made of.”

“Your guy is getting ahead,” Sofia whispers, grabbing my arm.

Everyone in the arena is standing now as things heat up, the power struggle transferring ownership every two or three moves. I’ve never felt this much anxiety in my life.

From out of nowhere Tobias starts hammering Vance with such speed and precision a hush of anticipation comes over the crowd. The ref sounds the bell, and Tobias pulls back.

If that bell hadn’t rung then this fight may have been over.

Like we’ve been running a marathon, Sofia and I collapse onto our seats, out of breath. One of the ring girls starts her slow strut with the round’s number held high, her slender arms flexed to balance.

But when Tobias turned for his corner, Vance didn’t go to his. He comes up and punches Tobias in his shoulder blades.

An illegal move.

The clock was stopped.

The crowd explodes with boos and hissing as Tobias goes down.

Vance mounts him in a wrestling move.

The ref can’t make it stop.

I jump out of my chair and grab the sign from the girl’s surprised grip.

Rushing to the cage and slamming the sign against it, I shout, “TOBIAS!!” A grunting mass of sweat and blood lying on his back, his eyes lock onto mine. I throw the card and yell, “END IT!”

Light glitters across his stormy blue irises.

A surge of energy takes him over.

He latches his hooks on Vance’s forearms.

Holding them to stop the stream of punches he shoves his opponent off.

Vance flies into the chain fence.

Tobias’s sweaty muscles ripple as he stalks his prey.

It is awe-inspiringly hot.

I need him to win.

I need those hands on my breasts, my ass, my thighs.

Everywhere.

And if he doesn’t win, that’s not going to happen.

Vance gets pinned to the chains.

Tobias takes him out with a series of punches fueled by anger at the illegal attack and by me reminding him who he really is. I don’t know what that guy Vance was saying in his ear this whole time to weaken him, but Tobias is a winner. I can see it as clearly as I can hear the crowd going berserk.

Dead weight slumps to the ground, Vance out cold.

Tobias, hunched over and panting, stares at his opponent as the ref is shouting things to the announcer.

A slow grin spreads on my face and Tobias looks at me.

He tips his head like he did before they began.

My chest is heaving with excitement.

But the fact remains that none of that was legal.

Is the fight really over?

The judges are huddled together, the ref with them. A doctor has appeared at Vance’s side, checking his pulse. The Announcer waits for the verdict, total poker face as the wireless mic is suspended before his pursed lips.

The ref crosses to him and both heads go down as they converse.

“Due to foul play, attack during time-out, the judges have ruled the defense legal and admissible. The winner and new Heavyweight Champion is… Tobias Kyrkooossss!”

I’m gripping the cage, fingers looped through the holes as the ref holds Tobias’s arm high in the air just in time for Vance to come to consciousness and witness his loss.

The new Champion holds my eyes in a stare that ends with a smirk.

Pushing off the chain I strut to my cousin and her devilish, knowing look. In a put-on, heavy drawl she says, “Oh, honey. You done outdid yourself out there!”

I drawl back with eyelashes flapping, “I sure did, didn’t I?”

Around us people clamor to be near Tobias, and camera flashes explode nonstop. The media is shouting questions, angling for a sound bite as he heads back to wherever it is fighters go before and after fights. All of this is new to me, so I picture it as someplace filled with women who, poor things, won’t be getting any of his attention tonight. That man is all mine.

He shouts, “HANNAH!” as bouncers shove rabid fans away from him.

I cock an eyebrow and shout over the noise, “Yes?”

“My locker room!”

“What about it?”

As the wave carries him off he just smiles.