Davina's POV
The atmosphere crackled with raw energy, air dense with perspiration and haze.
Liquor mingled with the mob's collective fervor, shouts amplifying with every heartbeat.
My pulse thundered against my ribs, my gut churning with anxiety I couldn't name.
What was driving this terror?
I wasn't the one about to enter that cage.
Irvin was.
The current bout was finishing up, both combatants trading final vicious strikes. I barely watched. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in my own chaos.
I had spotted him.
Caught Irvin in his prep room, positioned there, regarding me like I was trespassing. Like he couldn't figure out what to make of me. Still... the way his eyes tracked me, how his stare burned into me—it stirred something inside.
Then I bolted. Like a complete moron.
The fight concluded with one warrior hitting the canvas, spectators exploding in approval. I hardly noticed the scene before real anticipation flooded in.
The headline bout was starting.
