Fight day had arrived. The sun rose over Las Vegas, and the energy in the city was already different. Every billboard, every commercial, every conversation on the strip seemed to point toward one thing, Cross vs. Novak.
For Damon, the morning started steady. He moved through light drills with Victor, keeping his body loose and his timing sharp.
Nothing too heavy, just enough to feel his rhythm and burn off the nerves that came with waiting.
The hours passed in stretches of quiet focus.
By late afternoon, it was time to shower, change, and prepare for the night ahead.
When they arrived at the arena, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The car door opened, and cameras were waiting.
Svetlana stepped out first, dressed elegantly, her presence commanding attention as flashes lit the walkway.
Ava followed, wearing a small, carefully picked dress, her hair done neatly. She clung to Damon's hand, smiling wide at all the noise around her.
