Coleman hit the canvas hard, and for a moment, the entire gym seemed to hold its breath.
Ronny didn't jump in wild. He followed up sharp and clean. A tight hammerfist snapped into Coleman's ear.
Then another to the side of the jaw. Coleman rolled, trying to protect himself, but his reactions were slower now, uncoordinated.
He reached out instinctively, wrestling on autopilot, and shot for a leg.
But Ronny saw it coming from a mile away.
He sprawled, hips heavy, stuffed the shot completely, then angled off and drove a knee into Coleman's ribs.
It wasn't a clean flush, but it hurt. Coleman grunted, still clinging to Ronny's ankle with one hand.
Ronny grabbed the wrist, broke the grip, and stepped out of range.
Coleman stayed crouched on all fours for a beat, trying to find air, blood dripping from his nose and eyebrow. His balance was off. His eyes were hazy.
Damon stood cage-side, arms folded.
