The gym falls silent as we stand and wrap our knuckles. I give Nico this look as if to say, Ha, I'm sparring when you said I couldn't, which earns me a side-eye, but I can't help it; I'm excited. Not just because I get to spar, but because I get to spar with Maddie, who's practically royalty around here.

I focus on the fluttering tape as I wrap it back and forth. It always feels strange to be in here after hours. The heavy bags hang motionless, the ring untouched, but I can almost feel the ghosts of past matches lingering in the air. With a subtle pleading glance at Ali, I slip on my gloves.

I'm practically humming with excitement. While I'm learning a lot from my sessions with Nico, it's clear he goes easy on me, so until I fight someone of the same size and weight category, I'll never improve, and who better to fight than the girl who trained with Hayden?

As soon as I'm ready, I follow Maddie to the ring, heart pounding in excitement. The bright lights above me illuminate the space, casting long shadows across the canvas floor. I get into position, ignoring the tight little knot in my stomach, and pretend it's just another spar session with Nico or Auden.

Maddie slips into the space opposite. She's pulled off her sweatshirt, so she's wearing a similar outfit to me – sports bra and yoga pants – but while I look like an amateur pretending to be a boxer, she's the real thing. Her arms are strong from all her training, and her abs are tight and defined. I hold my hands higher, wondering if I'm getting ahead of myself, but it's too late to back down now.

"Don't go easy on me," I warn because if we're going to do this, I want it to be real; I want to see what I'm capable of.

She laughs as she circles me. Her hazel eyes are determined and focused, scanning my body for weaknesses. "I don't plan to."

Nervous, I glance behind her to where Nico leans on the ropes, watching us. I've sparred with him a million times but having him watch me feels inherently more nerve-wracking. I push the thought away and focus on Maddie, swiftly taking note of her stance and the ease with which she moves on her feet.

I mirror her stance, but while she seems to glide across the canvas with ease, my footwork feels clunky. I take a deep breath and try to think fast. Unlike Maddie, I don't have the skill to remain on the defense, so I focus on offense.

I lunge forward with a quick left jab. Maddie tries to block it, but I'm fast on my feet, and the punch lands cleanly on her jaw. I follow up with a cross combo, putting weight behind the punch.

Maddie staggers back, surprised by the sudden attack, and I smile a little, surprised at how good it feels to fight someone who doesn't hold back. I know, deep down, she'd expected me to fight like Hayden, but I don't. When I fight, I fight like Nico.

She adapts quickly, swooping to the side with a mean right hook. I stumble back, able to feel the sting of the hit as it spreads through my jaw. Nico's always gentle when we spar, so the blow, for once, leaves me stunned.

I stumble further back, hands up high as I keep a safe distance, waiting for the right moment to strike. She fights just like Hayden, sharp but tight and controlled, hands high and autonomous. If I fight the same way, she'll beat me hands down, so I think of the time I'd watched Nico fight and channel him.

I feint a right hook like he did fighting Hayden and switch to a cross, catching Maddie's cheek. I follow through with a right hook to her jaw, scraping her jawline as she swivels her head. She surges forward, her fist a blur as it impacts my cheek, and I feel my skull rattle.

We continue to trade blows, each of us determined to come out on top. Sweat beads on my forehead, my arms beginning to tire from the constant movement, but I refuse to let it show. I push through the fatigue, determined to keep up the pace.

Nico's eyes don't leave the ring, taking note of every detail of the fight. He knows my every strength, every weakness, and somewhere inside me, I hear his voice echo: anger is passion, and passion is a powerful tool.

I clench my jaw and think of my father. Not just the lies about moving in with him, but the day he left us, the heartbreak I'd felt not once, but twice – once for me and once for Cody. The fire ignites, a bright, burning flame that travels through my arms and into my hands. I clench my fists tighter, channel the fury, and swing.

I press my advantage, raining down a series of blows, testing Maddie's defense. She tries to counter, but I'm relentless, driven by anger as I keep up the pressure. I'm in my element now, the fire in my lungs burning brighter than ever, ready to set us alight.

Flashes of memories float to the surface: my mother's cruel words, my father's spineless promises, my brother being bullied. The thoughts fuse together until it's hard to determine where one memory begins and the next ends, but it works. I surge again, feigning a right hook before meeting Maddie's chin with an uppercut.

I think of my recent ban from the gym, and the anger stains my skin like poison. It's not Coach's fault, and I don't blame him for a second for upholding the rules, but the anger isn't for him, anyway. It's for me.

As the fight wears on, my hits lose their power, and my limbs grow heavy with fatigue. Maddie senses this and attacks with renewed vigor. I push to my limits, every muscle in my body protesting with exhaustion. I throw myself forward, intending to land a well-placed uppercut, but my arm feels so weak that it sails above her shoulder. She retaliates with a flurry of punches that knock me to the mat.

I lie still for a moment, trying to work out where the pain is coming from, but it's everywhere all at once: a throbbing ache that starts in my head and travels all the way to my fingers.

"I'm calling it," Nico says.

"No," I say and shakily get to my feet. "I'm good."

In one swift move, Maddie removes her helmet and holds it between her fingers. She's silent for a moment, but her eyes soften in this way that cuts through me, the equivalent of someone asking if you're okay when you're on the verge of tears.

She removes her mouthguard and looks at me properly. "You're nearly there, Cassie," she says. "You just need to work on your stamina."

"Control," Nico says from behind us. I turn around to see his arms folded and his eyes considerably harder. "She needs to work on her control."

Hearing this agitates me more than it should. Maddie looks between us with a flash of uncertainty before turning back to me. "Do you want me to walk you out?" she asks.

"I'll be fine," I say. "I'm going to say goodbye to Nico and lock up."

"See you tomorrow?"

I nod and lean on the ropes as she heads for the exit, too exhausted to stand. But as angry as I am about losing, tonight has filled me with the tiniest sliver of hope. I didn't lose easily, which makes me think that with a little more practice, I'll be ready to fight Katarina.

I hope.

I take out my mouthguard and turn to Nico, who slips through the ropes and towers over me. Frowning, he removes my helmet and drops it to the ground before brushing a thumb across my still-tender cheek. Still irritated by his comment, I pull back a little and turn to the ropes, but he grabs my arm and spins me into him.

"You might not want to hear it," he says, "but it's true. You go too hard, too fast, and burn out."

"You told me to use my anger," I say. "Anger is passion and yada, yada, yada."

"I told you to control it," he says with a bite to his voice, "which I'd say is the opposite of what you were doing."

A flash of agitation hits. I look up at him, acutely aware of how close he's standing, but I can't for the life of me pull back. Part of me just wants to get a reaction out of him. He's always so militant outside the ring that I'm desperate to see him unraveled. "Sorry, I forgot you're the master of control."

He closes the last remaining sliver of space, his jaw a hard-set line. "Evidently not around you."

My heart skips a beat as I think back to earlier. If I weren't your coach, I'd do a lot of things I shouldn't. Surely, he didn't mean what I think he means. Surely, someone like him would never be interested in someone like me. So why does it feel like he might be?

I take a step closer, close enough that if I tilt my head, we'd be kissing. "Are you saying you lose control around me?"

The reaction it elicits is instant. His jaw contracts as he lowers his head, eyes swiftly falling to my lips. "Cassandra." The word comes out in a hard, rough breath that tickles my cheek. My throat thickens, and my stomach is consumed with this flickering heat, only this time, it's not anger.

"What?"

His eyes flick lower, dropping to my black, clingy sports bra, and this time there's no uncertainty about his intentions, no doubts that I've read him wrong. For the first time since I met him, he's losing control, and I'm the reason why.

The thought excites me in ways that it shouldn't. I fight to steady my racing heart, about to pull him closer by his t-shirt, but he grabs my wrist midair. Lowering his head, he lets his mouth brush close to my ear, his breath hot and fluttery. "Tell me to stop."

The voice in the back of my mind whispers stop, but it doesn't leave my lips. One kiss could ruin everything, could mean the difference between winning or losing my fight, but right now, I don't care. All I want is to give into this heat, to feel something more than anger.

All I want is him.

I tilt my chin until his eyes are on mine. They are dangerous and hungry, the same kind of look that he gets in the ring, right before he dominates his opponent. It's strange–I'm used to seeing him so controlled, and here he is before me, his body taut, eyes laced with longing as if he is one step away from losing all restraint. I nod briefly, the tiniest confirmation, but that's all it takes. In one quick move, he takes my face and swoops down to kiss me.

A/N

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