CHARLES FOX.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, but it barely registered in my head. My fists clenched tight, wrapping the worn tape around my knuckles, each loop tighter than the last. My chest heaved, each breath labored, heavy with the anger I couldn’t shake off. It wasn’t the fight that had me like this—it was *her*. Ruby.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop replaying that last conversation in my head. The way she looked at me, her eyes cold, her walls so high I couldn’t see over them. She didn’t trust me, didn’t want to let me in, and it twisted something deep inside me. I slammed my fist into the locker, the dull clang barely a whisper against the storm raging in my chest. *Damn it!* Why was she always under my skin, making me feel like this? It was like I couldn’t
