Relief crashed into me like a wave, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Damon didn’t raise his fists. He didn’t celebrate, didn’t bask in the victory. He turned, dazed, broken, and his bloodshot eyes searched the crowd frantically. Blood still dripping from his brow. He was looking for one thing.
Me.
And the moment our eyes met, I ran.
I didn’t care about the cameras flashing, the crowd screaming, the chaos erupting around us. I didn’t care about the blood on his skin or the bruises blooming across his face. I didn’t care about anything except the fact that he was standing.
Alive.
Breathing.
Mine.
He had jumped out of the ring, stumbling past the ropes, and I was already there— reaching for him, arms open, heart breaking. He cupped my face with trembling hands, his touch gentle desp
