…one last time.

***

Olivia

Darryl and Jackson nudge Seth, but he refuses to move. Instead, he watches the zealous crowd that screams his name. I peer past him and see Don waiting in the cage. On the distant T.V. they close in on his face, broadcasting his look of distaste all over the arena. He paces from side to side and bounces on his feet. I’ve never seen Don look so serious—he’s out for blood. Seth looks over his shoulder at Jackson and pulls out his mouth guard.

“Keep her safe,” he orders and Jackson wraps a strong arm around my waist, squeezing me to him.

Seth starts forward and the crowd goes insane. My eardrums, my stomach and my heart all threaten to combust. I’ll never get used to this. Ever. I stumble as Jackson pulls me along beside him. He keeps his head down and pulls me even closer as hands whip out to touch us. Fingers brush over my shoulder and through my hair as we thunder down the walkway and right up to the cage. When we’re there, the referee checks behind Seth’s ears, inside his mouth, and his gloves, and I smile as he passes the brief examination. Not a second later, he bounds up the stairs and into the cage. Once inside, neither Seth nor Don take their eyes off each other. I run my hands along the extra bit of flooring. The scream from the crowd cause the cage to vibrate and I wonder if it tickles the base of Seth’s feet like it does my fingers. The tingles set off by the floor of the cage course through my body—from my fingertips to my heart. My heart races, with each cell vibrating at their own speed. Never in my life have I been so excited for a fight. Never have I been as excited or as terrified as I am at this very moment.

I sit back in the small metal chair provided as the announcer stands in the middle of the ring. A microphone slowly drops in from the roof and he grabs it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s gut-wrenching fight is about to commence.” A shiver rolls down my spine as he introduces both the contestants, making note of where they’re from and how much they weigh. The announcer goes into their hate-filled background, hyping up the audience more and more until they’re begging for blood.

With an introduction of the referee, the microphone is pulled back up to the roof, the announcer leaves, and the door is locked behind him. The crowd settles and I grip the edge of my seat. I wish I was in the crowd with Selena and I wish I had her shoulder to bury my face in. Seth and Don still their eager bodies… waiting for the bell to go. The wait turns into a small eternity and I’m not sure if the loud pounding in my ears is solely from my heart, or the hearts of everyone in this room thumping in time with each other.

Then the bell sounds and everyone jumps to their feet, including me. At the front, by the cage, is like being in the ocean. The currents control you—every scream and clap sends me closer to the cage until I’m standing by Jackson and Darryl. I’ve never been so close…

Don and Seth circle each other silently, trying to gauge which game the other is playing. Don is first to move. He growls impatiently and launches forward, driving Seth backwards with his fists. Seth keeps his hands up, blocking all that fly for his face, only missing one or two that collide with his ribs.

“Move!” I scream as Seth side steps and Darryl stumbles into the cage.

“Go!” Darryl shouts and Seth takes advantage of Don’s slip. He grabs his head and drives his knee right into the middle of Don’s face. “Yes! Again!”

Seth lines up for a second knee, but Don pushes forward, driving him back until they crash onto the canvas.

Under my hands the floor shakes, rattling my adrenaline-laced frame. I see it now… why my dad loved fighting so much. It’s invigorating—empowering… or at least it is until Don gets the upper hand on Seth and punches him in the mouth. My blood runs cold as Don smirks and pulls his arm back to hit him again.

“Your hips!” Jackson shouts. “Move your fucking hips!”

Seth flicks his hips, tossing Don off him and quickly jumps to his feet. Don recovers quickly too, and charges at Seth, swinging his arm with brute force. By some miracle, Seth dodges them all and drops low. He slams his fists into Don’s ribs and I hear the air being forced from his lungs every time Seth’s fists connect.

My own ribs ache as I watch. I stuff my fingers into my mouth, biting nervously on the nails. Seth bounces on his toes, ducking and dodging all of Don’s comeback hits. Catching a break, Don takes a step back to breathe and rethink his game. Seth has been training like crazy this time and he’s studied Don. He wants revenge, and what Seth Marc wants, Seth Marc gets. Don launches forward, diving at Seth’s legs. With a loud thud, Seth drops to his knees and sprawls, countering the take down. Don falls flat on his stomach. Seth jumps on his back and wraps his strong, thick arms around Don’s neck and pulls. Immediately, Don’s face darkens to a violent red, but he refuses to tap out. I lean even closer to the cage, until I can smell the baked vinyl the cage is dipped in. I can hear my own breath falling from my lips in heavy, quick pants. The referee gets in Don’s face. He’s talking to him and Don is shaking his head.

“Squeeze!” someone behind me screams. “Squeeze the fuck out of that asshole!”

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Darryl shouts, slapping the canvas.

The bell sounds, lifting weight I didn’t know I had off my chest. The referee pulls Seth off of Don and he saunters back over to us.

“Dammit!” Jackson barks, slapping the wire. “Fuck!”

They grab a small blue stool and run for the cage door. I remain on this side of the cage as Seth drops onto his stool. He’s close now. So close I can see perspiration coat his skin. Even over the cheers, I can hear his heavy breathing. As they rub more Vaseline on him and give him small amounts of water, he peers over his shoulder. I zero in on the cut that splits his bottom lip. It’s bleeding and swollen. The sight fills my stomach with worry. I don’t like seeing him hurt, especially on his perfect face.

“How are you doing?” Seth shouts, smiling.

“Don’t worry about me. How are you doing?”

He flicks an eyebrow and grins confidently. “I almost had him.”

“Almost,” I repeat, fighting my own smile.

I have no doubt that Seth can beat Don… I just don’t want him getting too confident too soon. Who knows what Don has planned. The break ends quickly and before I know it, Jackson and Darryl are by my side and Seth is back on his feet.

The bell rings and Seth goes in immediately, ducking and dodging Don’s swings and punching him wherever he can. After taking an undoubtedly painful combo to the stomach, Don throws a punch, going for a quick right jab. My heart stops, stutters, and then starts up again as Seth dodges the punch, responding with a jab of his own, followed by a quick right uppercut to Don’s jaw. Seth is on top of his game tonight. All of his movements are planned, precise, and devastating, and I can’t wait to see Don crash to the canvas. Hit after hit they exchange, neither of them growing tired of beating the other. A minute into the round, Seth dives at Don and the two become a ball of limbs as they roll around, trying to get the drop on the other.

“Keep your shoulders up and arms away!” Jackson shouts.

As the round draws to a close, Seth gets the upper hand. He straddles Don, pushing down on his chest. Seth drops an elbow on his face and I gasp, feeling the blood drain from my own face as the sound of hard bone against bone echoes through my head. Seth drops another and another, splitting Don’s brow wider, until blood is running off the sharp edges of his face. The crowd goes insane at the sight of blood—desperate for more. Don raises his arm to push Seth off and his team screams for him to keep it down. Seeing the opportunity to end the fight, Seth grabs Don’s arm and wraps his legs around it, he falls back against the canvas, straightening Don’s arm out. Don’s face contorts in pain and I see his fingers twitch toward the canvas. Do it. Do it. Do it. I beg him.

I drag my stare from Don’s face to Seth’s. His face is void of any emotion and his brow is furrowed, like he’s trying to decide what to do. His eyes flick to mine and I inch closer to the cage, drawn to him like a magnet. Don groans in pain, the sound sending sympathy driving into the pit of my stomach. Then, Seth releases Don’s arm and jumps to his feet. I gasp—Jackson and Darryl gasp—the entire crowd gasps. What the hell is he doing? He had that in the bag!

Seth waits, giving a dazed Don time to get to his feet and then he shouts at him—words I can’t hear over the roar of the crowd. The whole stadium shakes under stomping feet and I grip the edge of the canvas. Don shakes his arms and lifts them to his face before charging at Seth like a rhino. They collide and crash to the ground once again. Neither of them attempt a submission, instead, they hit each other over and over, punch for punch. There is no style to this fight anymore, it’s just an old-fashioned street fight.

Jackson ‘whoops’ beside me and makes me jump. I look at Darryl, who squeezes his hair between his fingers, pulling hard.

“He’s ignoring the game plan,” he tells me, his face displaying his concern.

I look back to the fight—they’re on their feet now, classic boxing style, neither of them using their legs. Don sways uneasily, his face bloodied and cut. It drips into his eyes and he swipes it away, but the ref doesn’t call the fight. As Don throws a quick, heavy punch, Seth ducks and slams his fists into Don’s stomach. Don hunches and I see it in Seth’s face—the smirk on his lips—he’s going to finish it off. He pulls his arm back and the bell sounds. The referee jumps in, filling the space between Seth and Don.

As Seth walks over to us, Don falls to his knees. Like before, Jackson and Darryl run into the cage with a little blue stool and Seth drops onto it. They try to tend to him—try to cover him in more Vaseline and dab his cuts, but he isn’t having any of it. He turns on his chair and removes his mouthguard.

“How’d you like that round?” He pants, swiping wet hair from his forehead.

“You had it, why’d you stop?”

He shrugs. “Because I wanted to hurt him more.”

I grip the wire. “I don’t think he can take much more, Seth.”

“You want me to finish it?”

I nod and he smiles, turning back to his team. They put cloths on him, ice bags, Vaseline the lot and eventually, the referee calls for the team members to leave. I peer around Seth and over to Don. He looks like shit… one eyes is swollen shut. A huge chunk of Vaseline sits on his brow, preventing anymore blood from leaking into his eye.

The bell rings out one last time and Seth bounces forward. Both of the boys are tired—their movements much slower than the beginning of the match. Their faces show their exhaustion and I feel sorry for them—both of them. Seth lifts his hands to his face as Don throws his fists hard and fast, determined to get Seth in this final round. Don knows if this goes to the judges, he’s lost. He’s panicking—he desperately needs to knock Seth out. Watching it, watching him hit Seth relentlessly makes my blood boil. Seth blocks as many as he can, but a couple slip through, weakening his defense.

“Come on, Seth!” Darryl shouts. “Get out of the way!”

Seth plants a heavy foot and dips low. Don is thrown off balance and falters in his movement. That’s all Seth needs. I see his eyes narrow and his lips twitch right before he slams his fist into Don’s stomach. Don flinches, hunching slightly. Putting all of his strength into his right hand, Seth pulls back and slams his fist into Don’s face. Don’s tossed to the side, spitting blood all over the canvas. Seth hits him again, from the opposite side. More spit. More blood. The crowd goes ballistic as Don crashes to the canvas and ceases to move. The referee dives on Don and waves Seth off. The bell dings excitedly, announcing Seth’s victory. I clap my hands until they burn and then I clap even harder. Pride surges through my chest as Seth does an over-excited lap of the cage, shouting and cheering. The gate opens and floods with team members, doctors, and cameras. I finally let out the breath I’m sure I’ve been holding this entire time and relax against the cage.

Two and a half grueling rounds going punch for punch and finally, Seth came out on top by executing the perfect KO. Hearing the crowd scream for him sends a crackle of electricity through my body and I grind my teeth, fighting off a shudder that threatens my spine. Finally, he kicked Don’s ass. Finally, he gave him exactly what he deserved. As sad as it sounds, watching Don lie on the ground, dazed, lifts weight off my shoulders. Seth will never have to fight him again, and once we leave Vegas, I’m sure he’ll never have to see his face again. After this, I doubt he’ll hang around Portland anymore, at least not while Seth’s there, anyway.

I watch Seth be thrown backwards as Jackson and Darryl crash into him. He looks like he’s still too hopped up on adrenaline to hurt, but I suspect when his body cools down his muscles are going to fucking ache.

“You did it!” they shout, slapping him around.

Seth laughs and squeezes them to his body. He wouldn’t be able to do this without them. Team Seth, that’s what they are, and this final fight doesn’t mean it has to end now.

“Seth!”

His laugh fades and smile falters as Matt Somers beams at him from across the cage. He flicks his head and Darryl and Jackson let Seth go. Seth gives me a small, reassuring smile as he strolls over to Matt, the presenter, and six cameras that linger in front of him.

The presenter is handed a microphone to address the crowd. His shiny, gold ring stands out, glistening in the light provided by the rigging above as he pats down his messy, brown hair

“Wow,” he simply says and everyone screams their agreement. “That was intense. How are you feeling, Seth?”