43

Liam pulled the ropes apart as he climbed into the ring. The man cattycorner from him, a junior from University of Tennessee, stared at him with intensity — an attempt to make Liam nervous.

It worked.

I could see the doubt in his eyes, the uncertainty that he was ready to win. Sighing, I left Bella to prepare for her upcoming match and leapt up onto the edge of the ring, grabbing Liam's arm and forcing him to look back at me.

"The first time I fought you, I thought I'd lost. Thought I'd blown the tournament, failed. You had me second guessing every decision I'd made, every jab, every hit, everything. You're a damn good fighter, Liam, but you've got to get out of your head and let instinct take over. You know what to do."

"What if it's not enough?" he asked. "Our program depends on us winning."

"Winning a National title isn't a guarantee that our program will get to stay. All we can do is leave all we have in the ring."

Liam nodded and looked back at his competitor. David Usher had made quite the name for himself here at the tournament and was ranked second nationally. He was strong, broad in the shoulder, and knew how to use his body to make his punches hurt.

"He doesn't have anything on you," I said, drawing Liam's attention back to me. "Nothing. You're quicker. Short jabs, keep him moving, and make him expend more energy as early as you can. He can't keep up with you, dude."

Liam smiled. "You know, if you hadn't talked me into coming back, I wouldn't be here, Edward. You and Bella, you've been through so much. I mean, I don't know if I could have handled half of what you'd dealt with. And then you came to school and Mags and I . . . Well, we were assholes."

"Yeah, you were," I admitted. "But it's in the past. We're cool now. All that matters is winning this tournament."

Liam smiled and pushed away from the ropes. "Think I'm ready now."

"About damn time," I snickered and leapt off the edge of the ring. "Kick his ass."

Liam nodded and turned back to his opponent, his shoulders square, an air of confidence that I hadn't seen in a while in his posture. The ref stepped into the ring, his hands grabbing the waistline of his black pants and hoisting them up. He looked from David to Liam and back before he gestured for both fighters to meet him in the middle.

I moved over and settled on the bench next to Bella, who had her iPod balanced on her knees. Her eyes were closed and I knew she was focusing on her next match, the match that would send her into the finals against Tanya. Settling next to her, I draped my arm around her and kissed the side of her head.

Bella smiled and plucked one of the buds out of her ears. "Straighten him out?"

I nodded. "Think so. You ready?"

"Almost," she murmured and placed the bud back into her ear. She shifted so that she was leaning against me, her head resting on my chest.

As Bella mentally prepared for her next battle, I turned my attention to Liam and David. The referee sent both men back into their corners and after a moment, he gestured for the judge to ring the bell. The sound echoed throughout the Colosseum, everyone's attention was on the two men whose future relied on who hit harder, who had more stamina, and who wanted it more.

David came at Liam hard, his arms swinging in a maze of madness. Liam managed to block the first two, but the following three clocked him hard on the right side of his head, his left abdomen, and under his chin. Liam groaned as he pushed David off him, shifting around the ring so that he wasn't pressed against the ropes. Smart move, because the last thing you want was to be trapped with no way around a guy wider and taller than you.

Liam and David battled back and forth over the next two rounds, giving and taking as many hits and punches as the other gave. From what I could tell, they were about even. After two grueling rounds, the bell rang, signifying the third and final round. Liam staggered toward David, who was moving much slower than he had at the start of the match.

David attempted a left hook, but Liam was able to block it and sent a hard right, uppercut to David's chin. David stumbled back against the ropes.

A look crossed Liam's face and found myself scrambling to my feet as he moved in.

"Finish him!" I snarled, rushing to the edge of the ring, as did the rest of our team and those on David's team.

Liam boxed him into the corner, his fits flying in a blur. Left, right, left, right, right, uppercut, jab, gut shot, chin, head, side. Over and over, Liam struck, not giving him an inch, knowing that all it would take was one hit and the momentum would change.

"What'd do you know?" Bella scoffed, looping her arm with mine as we watched. "He's had his aha moment."

"His what?" Phil asked, leaning toward Bella to hear her better.

"His aha moment," she said, smiling. "You know, that moment when you're in the middle of the hardest fight of your career. You're exhausted, not sure how you're even still standing. But you realized that all that matters is right now is this moment. He's going to win, simply because he has nothing to lose. He's having his aha moment."

Phil chuckled and nodded. "Yes, he is."

And Bella was right. Liam held David against the ropes until the final bell rang. The referee sent him back into his corner before helping David into his. Phil climbed up and began cutting the tape off his gloves. Liam spit out his mouthpiece, gasping for air.

"Was . . . it . . . enough?" he begged. "Did . . . I do . . . enough to . . . save the program?"

"Hey, that doesn't matter right now," Phil said, draping a towel around his neck. "You did great, Liam. Win or lose, we're proud of you."

"Have to win," he muttered, taking another gulp of air as he dragged the towel over his face.

I wanted to argue with him that it didn't matter, because in a perfect would it wouldn't, but we lived in the real world and it did matter. Every loss hurt our chances of winning the championship, and losing the title would almost ensure that our program would die.

The referee knelt next to the judges, accepting the small index card with the name of the winner scribbled across it. He stood and moved into the middle of the ring. He gestured for both Liam and David to join him, which they did slowly.

Gripping both men's arms, he looked around at everyone before lifting Liam's arm and saying, "Winner, from UCLA: Liam Shepard."

The crown exploded in applause and our team was screaming. At least one of us would be making it into the finals.

Liam thanked the referee before climbing out of the ring, finding himself in the midst of an excited team.

"You did it!" Maggie squealed, throwing her arms around him. Before he could say anything, she planted a heated kiss on his lips.

"Jesus Christ," Phil groaned, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Could we have one tournament that doesn't involve my fighters sucking face?"

"No," we all said together, causing him to scowl.

"Whatever," Phil muttered and placed his hand on Bella's shoulder. Once, and not that long ago, my wife would have cringed from the physical contact, sending her over the edge, but not anymore. "Bella, you ready?"

"Yep," she chirped, blowing out a deep breath and rolling her shoulders backward.

While the rest of the team continued to congratulate Liam on his win and advancement into the final match, Phil and I led Bella to her ring, where her opponent — Jasmine Fields. Tall, with short brown hair, broad shoulders, Jasmine had a good two inches on Bella. We'd seen her take out one fighter after another over the last two days like they were nothing more than a rag doll. She was strong and quick for her size. She wouldn't be easy, and based on the look on Bella's face, she knew she was going to have to battle hard for this win.

I held the ropes apart while Bella climbed through, hooking her gloves around the red vinyl and rolling her shoulders back, trying to stay loose.

"Hey," I said, drawing her attention to me. "I've been doing some thinking."

"What I'd tell you about that, Masen?" she teased. I chuckled, but didn't respond. "What's on your mind?"

"After the seasons over, after we've won, we need to go on a honeymoon."

Bella smiled wider. "Where?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Wherever you want to go."

"Hmm, okay," she said, leaning against the ropes and pressing her lips against mine. "How about whoever wins their titles by the bigger margin gets to pick where we go?"

"Oh, I like that." I kissed her again, deeper, more passionately than she had me. It wasn't until Phil cleared his throat, reminding us that he was still there. I pulled away from Bella and looked at him. "Sorry."

"No, you're not," he scoffed but turned to Bella. "You're ready."

"Are you asking, or telling me?"

"Telling." Phil leapt off the edge of ring, grabbing the back of my shorts and pulling me down next to him. "Time to let the wife kick ass, Edward."

"As long as it ain't mine," I snickered.

Bella rolled her eyes, but turned to face Jasmine, who was still glaring at her. Intimidation wasn't going to work on Bella. The referee climbed into the ring and called both women to the middle. Jasmine squared her shoulders as she peered down at Bella, who appeared bored by the attitude. The referee called for a good, honest fight and then had them bump gloves before sending them back into their corners. A moment later, the bell rang, signifying the start of the match.

Jasmine seemed surprised when Bella came right at her, clocking her in the mouth with a hard left jab that had spectators all around us crying out in pain.

"Move your fat ass, Jasmine!" Tanya screamed from the other side of the ring. "Fucking move it, you ugly slut!"

"Wow," I muttered under my breath.

"What?" Phil asked.

"Tanya's scared," I told him.

"Of?"

"Bella. She knows that when push comes to shove, she'll own her ass in the ring. She's hoping Jasmine will take Bella out and then she won't have to fight her."

"What makes you think so?" Phil wondered.

I laughed softly. "Look at her. She's damn near frantic about Jasmine getting her ass beat. Some might think of it as team pride, but I don't think that's true. I think Tanya only cares about herself and Bella's the only person here who can take her out, and she knows it."

I left Phil at Bella's ring side and settled on the bench so I could start preparing for my match. I didn't need to be worried about Bella. There wasn't any chance of her not winning. Jasmine wasn't quick enough to out move her, strong enough to out hit her, or brave enough to lay down and take it. So while I taped my hands and stretched, Bella fought two and a half rounds against Jasmine before the referee called the match and declared Bella the winner.

Bella climbed out the ring and rushed to my side, throwing herself in my arms. Our lips met in a fiery passion, but before I could congratulate her on a solid victory, we heard Tanya scream, followed by a loud commotion.

"Holy shit," I muttered, pulling Bella behind me as we watched Tanya screaming and throwing chairs on the other side of the ring.

Her anger toward her teammate for losing was shifted to Bella, when she looked over at us. Pure hatred and loathing dripped from each word she snarled, making the woman even uglier than normal.

"I'm fucking going to destroy you, Cullen. You won't even know your fucking name when I'm done with you," Tanya screeched, shrugging off the hands of her team and coach as they tried to settle her down.

All eyes shifted from the mad woman to Bella, who laughed. "Bring it, bitch."

Tanya snarled four-letter words under her breath as her teammates and coach dragged her away from the ring, murmurs of outrage following in her wake. The fact that the officials hadn't done reprimanded Tanya's behavior spoke volumes. It was clear we weren't wanted here, and not expected to succeed.

"What a crazy, bitch," Phil scoffed, rushing over to where Bella and I stood. "I used to be pissed that she chose Stanford over us, but now, I'm thinking it's a good thing she didn't come here."

"Gee, ya think?" Bella snorted and because pulling her gloves off. "But it's okay, because I'm going to knock her on her ass."

"Yeah?" Phil smiled. "Can't wait, but it's time for your husband here to kick some ass of his own."

"And I will."

"Yeah, you will, baby." Bella leaned up and pressed her lips against mine again before Phil grabbed my arm and dragged me toward my ring, causing her to laugh.

"Sorry," I chuckled, sliding my arm form his grip.

"No, you're not," he said with a grin.

"No, I'm not," I admitted, hopping onto the side of my ring and climbing in between the ropes. Hooking my gloves on the ropes and leaning backward, I tried to stretch my arms and back, keeping my muscles loose. "Tell me about my opponent."

"Like you don't already know everything about him," Phil quipped, but went on to add, "Frankie Ramirez. Junior from University of North Texas. He's the defending National champion, but he's had a hard year. Struggled with injuries, fatigue. Barely made it into the tournament, but has been looking better than ever. He's strong, fast, and smart. He's not going to make it easy, Edward."

"Do they ever?" I asked before releasing the ropes and turning to face Frankie. He was about the same height as me, around the same build. He had a dragonfly tattoo on the right side of his chest with the name Lillie under it. "I'm ready."

The referee climbed into the ring, looking from me to Frankie and back and called us into the middle. The closer I got to Frankie, the more serious the look on his face became. The referee grabbed both our gloves and brought them together.

"I want a clean match. No cheap shots, nothing under the belt, and when the bell rings, you're to move to your corners immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Frankie muttered.

The referee nodded and looked at me. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," I said, calmly.

"Bump gloves and move back into your corners."

I pulled my hands back to bump Frankie's, but he hooked our hands so that I couldn't move. My eyes widened and I looked to the ref and back, not wanting to start shit before the bell rang.

"Just wanted to say good luck, man," Frankie quickly said. "I've enjoyed watching you today."

"Oh, okay," I mumbled, adding a quick, "Thanks," after feeling stupid. "Good luck to you, too."

Frankie smiled and released my gloves, turned and walked back to his corner. It was the first time I'd ever had an opponent compliment me before we fought. I had a striking suspension that he was trying to throw me off my game, get me to relax, but it wouldn't work. It couldn't I needed the win too much to let him get the best of me.

Once back in my corner, Phil played my mouthpiece in and we waited for the bell to ring. The clang echoed throughout the arena, everyone's eyes on the Frankie and me. I tucked my arms close to my body as I stepped out of corner, knowing better than to go on the offensive immediately. Frankie smiled around his mouth guard and followed my actions, taking two steps to counter mine. He moved toward me, sending a left hood toward my head, which I blocked and followed with a right uppercut. He groaned and fell backward a step, but quickly recovered.

Over and over, we battled, each of striking as much as we blocked. By the start of the third round, my arms and legs ached. Frankie moved slower, but his hits were just as hard as they were from the start, and I seriously wondered if I'd be able to win and move onto the finals. For the first time in a long time, I felt like an amateur, like this was my first battle and I wasn't strong enough to win. The feeling of failure was overwhelming and as the final bell rang, I was pissed at myself for not being better.

Bella was immediately at my side, helping to remove my gloves and headgear. I spat my mouthpiece onto the floor, cursing the way our match had gone.

"Hey, you did great," Bella murmured, placing her hands on either side of my face. "You've got this."

"It wasn't enough," I muttered, barely able to keep the tears of humiliation from falling. "I needed to be stronger."

"Edward, listen to me," Bella demanded, but before she could pump my ego, the referee called Frankie and me back into the middle of the ring. The judges had made their decision.

The referee gripped both of our wrists. "Ladies and gentlemen, moving onto the finals, your winner by one point . . . . Mr. Edward Masen, from UCLA!"

My knees buckled as the referee raised my arm into the air. I'd done it. I'd made it to the finals. As Bella wrapped herself around my body, I found myself staring at Liam. Once again, we'd be facing each other for the title.