“Lieutenant?”
“Understood.”
Medical staff replaced her damaged headgear with inspected equipment.
Rachel checked every fastening herself.
As she tightened the final strap, she leaned close.
“He’s going to come at you with everything.”
“I know.”
“He’ll try to make you angry.”
Emily looked across the ring.
Mason was bouncing on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders, staring at her as if she had stolen something from him.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
The referee brought them to the center.
Mason had nearly a foot of height on Emily and a significant advantage in weight and reach.
Up close, he looked even larger than he had outside the ring.
He leaned forward until the referee’s arm separated them.
“Thirty seconds,” he whispered.
Emily said nothing.
The bell rang.
Mason charged before the sound had faded.
His first strike was not designed to test distance.
It was intended to end the fight.
Emily shifted outside the line of attack, and his fist passed her shoulder with enough force to turn his body.
He recovered quickly and swung again.
Emily blocked, stepped away, and let him advance.
A murmur moved through the crowd.
To spectators expecting a dramatic exchange, it looked as though she were retreating.
Mason believed the same thing.
“Run,” he said.
“That’s what you people do when the cameras are on.”
He attacked again.
Emily gave him ground, but never the same angle twice.
Each step forced him to reset his feet.
Each missed strike made his movements wider.
Her father had taught her that powerful people often revealed their weakness through repetition.
Mason’s was simple: whenever he felt embarrassed, he loaded his right shoulder before attacking.
Emily had noticed it when he struck the locker.
She had seen it again when the referees blocked him from reaching Noah.
Now the signal appeared before every reckless punch.
Mason drove her toward the boundary.
The crowd rose as he closed the space.
He threw the right hand.
Emily ducked beneath it, turned her hips, and redirected his momentum.
Mason stumbled into the ropes.
The soldiers nearest the ring shouted in surprise.
Mason spun around.
Emily was already back in position.
No celebration.
No smirk.
That angered him more than mockery would have.
He rushed her again and forced a clinch, using his weight to drive her backward.
His forearm pressed across her protective vest as he attempted to control her upper body.
Emily lowered her center of gravity and shifted one foot outside his stance.
Instead of trying to overpower him, she made his strength work against his balance.
For one second, Mason’s weight moved too far forward.
Emily turned.
