Page 3 of The Clinch
The bell rings. They reset. The other guy comes out desperate, swinging wide. Carver absorbs the first hit, then answers with a right cross that cracks through the Armory and kills the noise. The man stumbles. Eden screams. Nate jumps to his feet.
Lionheart stalks. Shoulders loose. Focus lethal. Economical.
I grip the railing hard enough to feel the metal bite, and still it doesn’t settle me.
I try not to look at him. I fail.
His head turns, just slightly, finds me in the chaos, and holds. His mouthguard shifts as one corner of his mouth lifts. It’s a look that feels like a dare, like he’s asking if I’m still watching.
I am.
Then he turns back to the fight.
The final exchange is fast—a slip, a drop, a brutal combination that sends the other fighter flat onto his back. The ref dives in, waving it off.
The building detonates. Lights flash. The ref lifts Carver’s arm. The crowd roars his name. He stands dead center under the lights, massive and still, every inch the champion.
Too magnetic.
Too beautiful.
Too much.
Exactly the kind of man I built walls against.
The ref drops his hand. Carver rolls his neck once…and looks at me.
The impact goes straight to my bones—a weighted stare, brimming with certainty, promising he knows exactly how to break me open.
Nate exhales. “Here goes.”
Eden squeezes my hand. “I warned you.”
Carver bites down, yanks out his mouthguard, and drops it to the canvas, his focus never wavering.
Every camera in the place catches him; it still feels aimed at me.
I don’t move.
Before anyone can reach him, Carver plants both gloves on the top rope and vaults over in one smooth, powerful motion, landing hard on the floor outside the ring.
Security shouts. Cameras surge. The crowd presses forward, screaming his name.
He doesn’t slow down.
He heads straight for our section.
“Holy shit,” Eden breathes. “He’s coming here.”
Ten feet.
Seven.
Five.
Ignoring the reaching hands, he moves as if the chaos doesn’t exist. When he reaches us, he leans over the barrier and presses a quick kiss to Eden’s hair.
“Thanks for coming, baby sis,” he says, his voice rough and stripped down.
