Free Impact (The Fight for Life #2) by K.A. Sterritt

surface. I was no scalp and I was about to prove it.
    The crowd went completely mental for the local hero. I'd been brought over as a spectacle, but Lucas’s smug demeanour as he climbed into the ring made me more determined than ever to ruin that plan. I enjoyed winning, but fighting had a very specific enticement for me, and it wasn’t just about the end result. I relished the mind game and the sweet sensation of blindsiding my opponent. Fighting in any arena was as intricate as a chess game. Every move was calculated—a hook, uppercut, block or jab—all designed to take another piece from my opponent. In the end, only one will reign supreme—and little did the Perth crowd know, I was the king.
    “Eight rounds is going to be a marathon in your condition, so make sure you stick to our plan, okay?” demanded Nick. “Wait for him to attack, counter strike, and then move off.” Nick pushed my mouthguard in. “Listen to my instructions and don’t get carried away. You are not anywhere near your full strength, and you need to be smart. You need to listen to me. We both know you shouldn’t be here. Don’t be a hero out there.”
    I nodded before turning to face my pawn.
    Adrenaline kicked in. The hairs on my arms stood up and my feet felt lighter. This was my moment, and all other thoughts left my head. This was what I craved. This was my oblivion.
    Lucas bounced around his side and I felt his eyes studying me. That always indicated a smart fighter, and my eyes narrowed. I would give him nothing predictable. He would’ve gleaned little from meeting me at the weigh-in, and he only had my one recent fight to go by. I might have been weaker than I would’ve liked, but I was formidable when I was in the zone.
    Lucas threw the first punch: an obvious right hook I had no problem dodging. I was only vaguely aware of the crowd erupting before they fell away. I waited for the split second that his weight was on his back foot to slam my gloved fist into the side of his head before moving off quickly. As expected, he toppled backward, caught off balance. He righted himself and closed the distance quickly. I knew he was about to go for a combination. He was rattled. I’d taken his knight and I was about to take his castle.
    Nick and I had agreed on a strategy whereby he would make the defensive and offensive calls as the fight played out. I would be too close to my opponent and wouldn't have the same perspective as Nick in the corner. In my current physical state, I had to concede my ability to make instinctual decisions was compromised.
    Lucas attacked, and I countered and then moved off. I was holding my own and preserving some of the precious energy I had to work with. The first four rounds were fairly uneventful, and the crowd no doubt felt a little ripped off. I had to force myself to remain present a lot of the time as my mind drifted away. Get your shit together , I mentally chastised myself.
    “You’re doing okay, Leo,” Nick said as he pulled out my mouthguard and towelled me off at the end of the fourth. “Your hits were cleaner, but you are tiring.”
    I nodded, wincing when he dabbed at a small cut above my eyebrow.
    When the bell rang, I moved back into the ring. I was feeling the heavy toll on my body, and doubt started to infiltrate my psyche. I pushed it away, angry at myself, but the next couple of rounds, I couldn’t deny he was starting to dominate. His body appeared to blur and I had to narrow my eyes to focus. I wasn’t anticipating his moves, and much to my horror, he was anticipating mine.
    “Are you still sure about the plan, Nick?” I asked, as he towelled me off. “I need the knockout.”
    “I’ll call offensive when I see fit. You’re holding up, but I’m not sure you have the reserves for it.”
    “I can do it. I can take down this little fucker.”
    He waited ‘til I looked him in the eye. “You have to trust me, Leo.”
    I nodded but couldn’t make eye contact. I barely trusted