As Damon stepped into the cage, a strange sense of freedom washed over him.
The roar of the English crowd, the tension in the air, the weight of an entire nation watching, it all faded into nothing the moment his feet touched the canvas.
Here, inside these walls, he was untouchable.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. This was home.
Then he saw it.
The look in Darion Elwards' eyes.
It wasn't the usual stare of a man ready for war. It wasn't fire. It wasn't hunger.
It was hesitation.
It was fear.
Damon's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He could smell it.
The crowd may have been against him, the arena may have been hostile, but none of it mattered. In the end, this fight was just between him and the man in front of him.
And right now, that man had already lost something critical before the first punch was even thrown.
