Right Hook (Gaslight series) COMPLETE

79| Bright lights

Alyssa ♔
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I can't remember her name. I'm about to spend the next several rounds with her in this ring, and I can't even remember her name. I wrack my brain for what the ref had called her seconds before the bell, but nothing comes to mind. Nada. And now it's too late.

I take a deep breath and focus on her tightly braided red hair instead. I don't know why I'm scared. I should be used to the harsh glare of the spotlights on my skin. Having grown up performing in every dance class, pageant, and choir my mother could find, I'm used to all the cameras and crowds. So why, in my element, do I feel like a lamb before a lion?

It doesn't even matter - just focus, Alyssa. You trained for this. You're ready. I suck in more air before raising my hands, trying to seem composed despite my nerves. But the slight tilt of Red's mouth tells me she's picked up on my anxiety. I raise my hands higher, tuning out the persistent pounding in my ears, and meet her gaze. Something about her reminds me of Marnie. Not in looks or posture but in the expression on her face, as if she thinks she can easily beat me - I'm starting to think she's right.

She circles me like a vulture, her eyes scanning for any sign of weakness. I straighten my shoulders, suddenly conscious of how she and the crowd will see me: slender, prim, my golden hair neatly braided for the cameras. Just a hint of makeup. She probably thinks I'm an easy target, and I'm loathed to prove her right.

She throws the first jab. I sidestep neatly, then spin on my heel until I face her again. That's it, I imagine Max saying-just one step at a time. You've got this, Goldilocks.

I smile at the imaginary scenario as Red moves closer, visibly annoyed by how quickly I'd slipped by her. I dodge another jab, trying to remember she's not doing this to hurt me but to test my defenses. Never exhaust yourself in the first round, Maddie said. Use it to understand your opponent: their techniques, their weaknesses. A good boxer doesn't win solely on strength but by paying attention.

Red launches another jab. Her fist speeds toward me, this time catching the top half of my ear, and for a second, I consider just how easy it would be to quit. To have Max take me back to the house and watch a movie instead. That would be the easy thing to do, the path the old me would have chosen. Until I met Max, my life had been a series of starting hobbies and abandoning them when they became too hard, just because I could. But with boxing, it's different; it's the longest I've ever committed to something, and I'll be damned if I don't see it through.

Red swings again, and I narrowly dodge another strike. My stance wavers, bringing back memories of the first time Max had me spar against him. I'd collapsed on the mat like a sack of potatoes, and he'd been forced to lean over me like I'd just dropped dead of a heart attack, that look in his eye like he wondered what he'd gotten himself into. How far I've come since those early sessions - farther than I ever realized, partly because of him.

Between dodging Red's attacks, I steal a quick look at my corner, half-wishing it were Max standing there. But the sight of Hayden, his eyes sharp and focused on me, soothes my nerves. He nods at my opponent, reminding me to stay focused. I turn back to Red just in time to feel her fist connect sharply with my cheek.

Staggering back, I feel the sting of her punch sear my skin. My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, urging me to lift my gloves just in time to deflect her next strike. Neither old nor new Alyssa is the type to stand here and not at least try, so I throw myself forward and prepare to attack. I might be in a boxing match instead of the Palisades, but whether in the ring or on a pedestal, the rules are the same: hunt or be hunted.