Nevara
Every part of me screamed.
My ribs throbbed from the hit. My pride stung worse. The sand beneath me felt cold and gritty against my palms, but Kael’s words snapped like a whip above me:
“Get back up and finish strong. Or he wins.”
Like hell he was winning.
I pushed to my feet, slow but steady, every breath a shot of fire through my side. Hopkins stood across the ring, barely masking his smug grin. He thought he’d already won—thought I’d stay down, tuck tail, take the loss.
Stupid boy.
I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck, and stepped back into stance. “Let’s go again.”
He sneered. “You sure? Hate to bruise the king’s favorite toy.”
I didn’t answer.
I just moved.
Fast.
He wasn’t expecting it.
I pivoted on my heel and drove a sharp jab to his gut—legal, clean, just enou
