Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1) (11 page)

The third round started, and Micah came out a dominant force. Between Micah’s shin kicks and the blood that still pooled at his temple, the competitor really had no tricks left to offer. It was about surviving Micah.

Blow, blow, blow. The men remained on their feet, tossing fists between one another. Alice was on her feet in the final minute as the clock at the judges table ticked the red lit seconds down. She muttered along with it: “20… 15 … 10 … 5 …” Micah’s final seconds were spent just waiting, defending off what little remained of the other man’s energy.

The bell rang, as the rest of the stadium joined her in standing. The girls to Alice’s side jumped wildly, yelling Micah’s name in high pitched tweets and shrieks. The lady in the blue tube top jiggled and leapt in the air. She turned to her friends with a huge grin on her face—as if she herself had won the match. Alice couldn’t help but stare tersely and roll her eyes at such a display.

The decision from the judges came back quickly, as the black gloved referee grabbed the men by the arms and led them to the center. The announcer appeared as well, and he joined in raising Micah’s arms victoriously. The competitor hung his head and walked out solemnly without stopping to take photographs.

Compared to the rest of the matches of the night, the photographers were ravenous with Micah. They shouted at him to change positions, to put his arsenal of muscles on display, to speak louder into the microphone as they interviewed him on his victory. Lights flashed around him, enveloping him in a halo of fame and celebrity.

As for Alice, she waited patiently in the stands for her time to come, for the house lights to turn on, and for the workers to start clearing the blood off of the ring.

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