A woman who has been mocked and belittled as a fragile princess turns out to be a ten-time boxing champion. When the people around her push too far, she steps into the ring to fight back and prove them wrong.
The eight gym owners glanced at each other. Nobody wanted to be the first to chicken out. Eight gym banners came in fast, lined up in a row. I looked at them and finally felt like fight was worth showing up for. The live stream count blew past 10 million. I shed my wrapped my hands with bandages, and walked up to the ring. The foreign coach stood up
abruptly and stared at the scar on my thumb, grabbed Hunter's arm, and his voice cracked. Wait. Don't put anyone up there yet. His finger jabbed at me, shaking. That woman, I swear to God, that's the underground fighter from Atlantic City. That's the Masked Reaper.
Coach Kevin's one sentence killed every sound in the gym. Hunter turned to look at him, smile gone. Kevin, you sure you got the right person? Kevin didn't even hear him.
He walked right up to the ring and stared at my right hand. Scar on the thumb, right shoulder drops on habit. That wrist roll she just did. No mistake, I watched her fight 17 times at the pit.
Someone in the crowd blurted out, Wait, a ten-time champ? Why's it seventeen fights? Kevin whipped his head around, voice cold. Ten-fight win streak. That's her retirement record, not her total fights.
The livestream chat exploded, scrolling too fast to read. Dad wasn't looking at the screen, just staring at me. Rai, is he telling the truth? I looked down and tightened my hand wraps.
Um, pretty much? Mason almost launched out of his chair. What do you mean, pretty much? You can't even open a damn water bottle.