Reese
“Reese?” Brooke calls my name from the bedroom door. “You ready?”
I leap out of the bathroom, where I was tying my hair back in a braid, and nod. “I’m so nervous.”
She laughs and hugs me, happily so.
“You don’t look nervous,” I tell her as she goes to give some last-minute instructions to Racer and kisses him good night.
She grins privately. “Whatever happens, Remington will be celebrating tonight.”
“Why do you say that?”
She leans over to tuck Racer in bed. “Because I’m pregnant.” She smiles so wide as she looks back at me. “I’m pregnant and Remington is going to be thrilled. Nothing matters more to him than we do. Right, Racer? A little sister, or a little brother?”
“No,” he says frowning, sitting up in bed. “My mommy’s mine!” He squeezes her. And she laughs and smacks his rump and settles him back down to bed, and nods to Diane.
We take the elevators to where Pete waits with an SUV. And then we both head out of the hotel, past Central Park and toward the East Side, to the warehouse of the Underground.
There are easily fifteen thousand people present, and Brooke leads me to a row of empty front-row-center seats.
I can smell the metallic scent of blood and sweat and beer and warmth of too many humans together. The sight of the ring so close makes my breath hitch.
“How you do it, I don’t know,” I tell her as we wait.
She pats my thigh reassuringly. “It gets easier. It’s never fun when there’s blood.”
“There’s going to be blood.” I exhale, preparing for it.
She nods. “It’s the final. They fight for all.” She scowls and waves Pete over. “What’s the delay?” she asks.
“They’re saying Maverick isn’t here.”
“What do you mean?”
Pete purses his lips in concern. “If he isn’t here in a minute, he’ll be disqualified.”
I glance at Maverick’s corner with a sinking feeling in my gut, then I tell Brooke, “Something happened. There’s no way Maverick would miss this fight—”
“Reese—” Brooke tries to appease me when the announcer speaks.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen . . .”
And Pete glances at Riley, who waves a signal at him, and Pete turns to us with a grin.
“It’s on,” he says.
And oh god.
It’s on.
