The first thing Ethan noticed when he woke up was the pain. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he sat up, his ribs throbbing with each breath. The events of the night before came rushing back: the gang, the fight, the adrenaline.
He winced as he shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. His reflection in the mirror looked as rough as he felt—dark circles under his eyes, a fresh bruise on his jaw, and scuffed knuckles from his punches.
But beneath the pain, there was a flicker of pride. He had survived.
By the time Ethan arrived at Sophia's gym, she was already waiting. She glanced at him, her sharp eyes scanning his bruises.
"Rough night?" she asked, barely hiding a smirk.
Ethan hesitated, unsure whether to tell her the truth. "Something like that."
Sophia stepped closer, her voice low and serious. "If you're getting into fights outside the gym, you're wasting my time. You're not ready for the streets, and you're definitely not ready for the underground. Got it?"
Ethan nodded, but the memory of the fight still burned in his mind.
Sophia sighed. "Well, if you're still standing, it means you learned something. Let's see if you can use it."
The day's training focused on control. Sophia set up a series of drills designed to test Ethan's precision and patience.
"Fighting isn't just about throwing punches," she said, demonstrating a quick combination on the heavy bag. "It's about making them count. Every move you make should have a purpose. It's like an art."
Ethan tried to replicate her technique, but his punches lacked the same crispness. Sophia stopped him, grabbing his wrist.
"You're rushing," she said. "Slow it down. Feel the motion. Power comes from control, not chaos."
For hours, she drilled him relentlessly. Jabs, hooks, footwork—every detail had to be perfect. Ethan's body begged for rest, but he pushed through, determined not to let her down.
The First Challenge.
By late afternoon, Ethan was drenched in sweat, his arms trembling from fatigue. That's when the gym door opened, and Marco DeLuca strolled in.
"Well, well," Marco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The comeback dick–head is still at it. Didn't think you'd last this long, Cruz."
Ethan shot him a glare but didn't respond.
Sophia stepped forward, her arms crossed. "What do you want, Marco?"
Marco smirked. "I've got a fight lined up. Nothing big—just a warm-up match for one of my guys. Figured Cruz might want a shot at proving he's not completely washed up."
Ethan's heart leapt. This was his chance.
Sophia, however, didn't look convinced. "He's not ready."
"Let him decide," Marco said, turning to Ethan. "What do you say, champ? You ready to step into the ring, or are you still hiding behind your coach?"
Ethan clenched his fists. He knew Sophia was right—he wasn't ready. But the thought of another chance to prove himself was too tempting to ignore.
"I'll do it," he said, ignoring the warning look Sophia shot him.
The fight was set for the following night in a run-down warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't an official match, but the underground circuit rarely cared about rules or regulations.
Sophia was furious.
"You're walking into a trap," she said as they prepared for the fight. "Marco doesn't care if you win or lose—he just wants a good show. And if you're not careful, you're going to get hurt."
"I can handle it," Ethan insisted.
Sophia shook her head. "You barely survived a street fight last night. This is different. These fighters know what they're doing, and they won't hold back."
Ethan knew she was right, but he couldn't back out now. Not after everything he had been through.
"I have to do this," he said. "If I don't, I'll never know if I can make it."
Sophia stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The Fight Night.
The warehouse was packed with spectators, the air thick with smoke and the smell of sweat. Ethan stood in the corner of the makeshift ring, wrapping his hands as he tried to block out the noise.
His opponent was already in the ring, shadowboxing to warm up. The guy was massive, his muscles rippling as he moved. Marco had clearly chosen someone with the intent to humiliate Ethan.
Sophia leaned in close, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay calm. Stick to what we practiced. Footwork, defense, and wait for an opening. Don't let him dictate the fight."
Ethan nodded, but his stomach churned with nerves.
The bell rang, and the crowd erupted.
The first round was brutal. Ethan's opponent came at him like a freight train, throwing wild haymakers that forced Ethan to stay on the defensive. Every punch felt like it could break bones, and Ethan struggled to keep his footing.
But as the round wore on, he started to see the cracks in his opponent's strategy. The guy was strong but sloppy, leaving himself open after every big swing.
In the second round, Ethan began to fight back. He dodged a wide hook and countered with a jab to the ribs, then followed up with a quick combination to the head. The crowd roared as his opponent staggered.
Sophia's voice cut through the noise. "Don't get cocky! Stay focused!"
Ethan nodded, keeping his distance and waiting for the right moment. When his opponent charged again, Ethan sidestepped, pivoting on his heel, and delivered a devastating uppercut.
The man crumpled to the mat, and the crowd erupted in cheers and boos.
As the referee declared him the winner, Ethan felt a surge of pride. For the first time, he had proved to himself—and to everyone else—that he wasn't just a washed-up fighter.
Sophia met him outside the ring, her expression unreadable.
"Not bad," she said finally. "But this was just the beginning. The real fights are still ahead."
Ethan nodded, determination blazing in his eyes.
"I'm ready," he said.
The victory buzz stayed with Ethan all night, but by morning, his body reminded him of the price. Every muscle ached, and bruises bloomed across his ribs and arms. He had won, but Sophia's words echoed in his mind: "The real fights are still ahead."
"She's so serious about everything!" He thought to himself, "But she's kinda cute.."
At the gym, Sophia greeted him with a scowl.
"Nice of you to show up," she said, tossing him a water bottle. "Don't get comfortable. Winning one fight doesn't make you a contender."
Ethan nodded, already used to her tough love. "I'm ready for whatever's next."
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Because Marco's not going to stop now. You embarrassed him, and that means he'll come back harder."
Ethan paused. He hadn't thought about the consequences of taking Marco's challenge, but he wasn't about to back down. "Let him come," he said.
Sophia shook her head, muttering something under her breath. "You're going to regret saying that."
As Ethan settled into his training routine, the gym door creaked open. He glanced up and froze.
A man stepped inside, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding immediate attention. His face was partially obscured by a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw, giving him a permanently dangerous look.
Sophia's reaction was immediate. Her usually sharp demeanor softened, and her eyes narrowed with something Ethan couldn't place—fear?
"What the fuck are you doing here, Gabriel?" Sophia asked, her voice low and tense.
The man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Good to see you too, Sophia. I heard you were back in the game."
Ethan watched the exchange, confused. Gabriel's gaze finally landed on him, and the air seemed to grow heavier.
"This the new project?" Gabriel asked, nodding toward Ethan. "Doesn't look like much."
Ethan bristled but stayed quiet.
Sophia stepped between them, her tone icy. "What do you want?"
Gabriel chuckled. "Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble. Just thought I'd drop by, see what you've been working on. Heard some interesting things from Marco."
Ethan's stomach twisted at the mention of Marco.
"You're working with him?" Sophia asked, her voice sharp.
Gabriel shrugged. "We have... mutual interests. Let's just say I'm keeping an eye on the circuit."
Sophia's jaw tightened. "If you're here to intimidate my fighter, it's not going to work."
Gabriel's smile widened. "Intimidate? Nah. I just wanted to see if he's worth the hype. But don't worry, Sophia—I'll see him in the ring soon enough."
With that, Gabriel turned and walked out, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
A History Unspoken.
As soon as Gabriel was gone, Ethan turned to Sophia. "Who was that?"
She didn't answer immediately, pacing the gym like a caged animal. Finally, she stopped and faced him.
"Gabriel is... someone you don't want to mess with," she said carefully. "He used to fight in the underground circuit, but he's more than that now. He's dangerous, Ethan. Stay out of his way."
Ethan frowned. "What's his deal with you?"
Sophia hesitated, her expression hardening. "That's not your concern. Just focus on your training."
It was clear she wasn't going to say more, but the tension in her voice told Ethan everything he needed to know—Gabriel was trouble, and it was personal.
That night, Ethan sat in his small apartment, replaying the events of the day.
There was a knock at the door. Ethan tensed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly midnight.
He approached cautiously, peeking through the peephole. No one was there.
Frowning, he opened the door a crack and froze. A small envelope sat on the floor. Picking it up, he found his name scrawled across the front in messy handwriting.
Inside was a single photograph.
It was a grainy shot of him walking out of the gym earlier that day. On the back, a message was scrawled:
"You're in deep now. See you soon."
Ethan's blood ran cold.
The next morning, Ethan showed Sophia the photograph. She barely glanced at it before tossing it aside.
"This is how they play the game," she said. "Mind games, intimidation. They're trying to shake you."
"It's working," Ethan admitted. "What am I supposed to do?"
Sophia stepped closer, her expression fierce. "You do exactly what I tell you. You train, you fight, and you don't let them see you flinch. If you break now, you'll never survive the circuit."
Ethan nodded, but the knot in his stomach wouldn't loosen.
That evening, as Ethan finished his training, Marco appeared at the gym.
"Cruz," he said, his grin predatory. "You've got a new fight lined up. One week from now. Big crowd, big money."
Sophia cut in. "He's not ready."
Marco ignored her. "You don't have a choice, champ. You're in the game now. Backing out isn't an option."
Ethan's heart sank. "Who am I fighting?"
Marco's grin widened. "Gabriel Jonathan."
The room went silent. Sophia's face darkened, her jaw tightening.
"No," she said firmly. "He's not fighting Gabriel."
Marco shrugged. "Not up to you, coach. The fight's already set. Good luck, Cruz. You'll need it."
He left without another word, leaving Ethan and Sophia in tense silence.
"I can't do this, can I?" Ethan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sophia didn't answer immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was cold and hard.
"You're going to have to."