Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Are you asking me to literally tap out of watching?” I tease.
He snorts with laughter. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
All the extra people file out of the cage. Griff and his opponent stop their restless warmups and stand in their respective corners.
Griff still seems to have extra energy buzzing through him. He keeps bouncing on his toes and shaking his arms. Underhill speaks to him through the fence and Griff nods every now and then.
The announcer’s voice booms over the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event tonight! Reigning champion Mike ‘Magic’ Everson out of ME Army Gym right here in Las Vegas with an impressive record of eleven wins and one loss, versus the up-and-coming Supreme Underground Fighter Griffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal out of Furious Fitness all the way in Empire, New York! You’re here to witness history as Stonewall steps into the cage for his first professional fight tonight.”
Griff raises his arms over his head and turns to face all sides of the arena.
A low, unfavorable-sounding roar moves through the crowd. We’re on Magic’s home turf. Good. A spiteful thrill runs through me. I can’t wait for Griff to whoop this guy’s ass in front of all his fans. But as he turns this way, our section bursts with chants in Griff’s favor.
Unable to stop myself, I jump out of my seat. A scream rips out of my throat, and I clap wildly. Griff’s eyes land on me and his cheeks push up. He points at me and tilts his chin.
The announcer keeps talking but it’s impossible to hear him over the deafening roar of the crowd. I lower myself into my seat again.
My stomach flips as the announcer hurries out of the cage and the ref calls the fighters to the middle.
“Breathe.” Shelby squeezes my hand. “He’s got this.”
“I know.”
I take a breath and block out the noise from the audience and focus on Griff.
Magic seems calm, almost bored, as if he thinks this will be an easy fight.
Griff seems to have redirected all of his extra energy inward. He’s impossibly stoic as he stands and stares Magic down. Magic bares his teeth and jerks his head forward, but Griff doesn’t flinch.
Next to me, Remy’s coiled tight, eyes fixed on the inside of the cage. Does he wish he was in there instead of Griff? Or does he want to pummel Magic the way I wish I could?
The ref says a few more words to the fighters. They tap their gloves together. The ref raises his hand and backs away quickly.
Griff crouches and puts his fists up. Magic tests him with a few probing jabs that Griff bats away. Griff responds with a low kick. Magic grunts and backs away.
“Shit,” Remy mutters.
I turn and find him grinning.
“Slap him, Stonewall!” someone screams.
Magic throws a powerful right hook that Griff ducks. The missed punch throws Magic off-balance, giving Griff time to move in close and whack Magic across the face with an open palm. He grins as Magic’s head snaps sideways and follows with a punch to Magic’s chin.
Magic rocks backward, catching himself against the cage wall. He returns with a flying kick to Griff’s midsection.
My heart hiccups with fear as Griff staggers backward. But he recovers fast and comes at Magic with several quick punches. Magic manages to pin him to the cage wall and they grapple, fighting to take each other down. Griff throws a sharp knee to Magic’s midsection and they separate.
“Shit, Magic’s already out of breath,” Remy says. “Griff’s still looking as fresh as a daisy.”
I don’t know about a daisy. Griff looks more like a highly trained K-9 focused on taking down a criminal with an anal cavity full of heroin.
Magic spins and lashes out with a wicked kick, aiming for Griff’s temple. Griff dodges the foot and responds with a combination of punches.
“Jesus Christ.” Remy shifts to the edge of his seat. “Magic’s just standing there like a fuckin’ zombie eating shot after shot.”
Magic ducks and covers his head, but Griff’s relentless, pouring on the punches.
The ref calls time. Griff calmly walks to his corner, hands on his hips, while Magic staggers over to his stool and falls onto it.
While I can’t hear what Underhill and Eraser are saying to Griff in his corner, their animated gestures seem positive.
As the second round starts, Griff’s confidence must be soaring. He’s lighter on his feet, almost taunting Magic.
“Don’t get cocky, bonehead,” Remy mutters.
Magic lowers himself and rushes Griff, flipping him onto the mat. My stomach jumps as the hard thud of their bodies hitting the canvas reverberates.
“That was a mistake,” Remy says. “Griff will finish him.”
“Now who’s cocky?”
Remy chuckles and hugs me to his side.
Our whole row’s screaming as Griff and Magic grapple on the floor. The crowd starts chanting “Stonewall!” and I think it’s almost over when the ref sends them to their corners again.