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He gets me to the fence midway through the round, crowding in and driving a knee into my thigh. I get an arm under his, turn him, and force him back against the mesh. He fights for the position, but I keep him there long enough to land a couple of short punches, then shove off him. Up close is where Kovac wants this fight, and I’m not giving it to him.

When he comes after me, there’s a little less snap in his jab. His mouth is open now. I’m breathing hard too, but my feet are still doing what I ask them to.

By the horn, I’ve had the better of him again.

“Same again,” Davie says as I sit. “Keep going to the body. Make him work.”

This time I keep my eyes on Davie. I take the water, listen to him, and let somebody wipe the sweat from my face. I don’t seek out Briony.

Kovac comes out harder for the third. His opening right hand whistles past my ear, and the next thumps into my guard. I get clear, put a jab in his face, and make him start again.

He’s loading up now. Looking for something big enough to change the fight. I can see it in the way he sets his feet, the extra weight behind each shot. For a while, it makes him easier to hit.

I land to the body then crack him in the face. His head snaps back. I’m already moving away, pleased with that one, when his right hand catches me.

The lights jump. My knees dip, and I stumble sideways.

Fuck.

I get my hands up as he comes at me. A punch crashes into my gloves. Another gets round them, and I retreat until the fence catches my back.

Something warm runs into my left eye. I blink, and my vision smears red.

He throws again. I tuck in behind my forearms, taking what I can on them, but one lands in my ribs and drives the air out of me.

I need to slow this down.

When he steps in for the next punch, I grab him, locking my arms round his body and pressing my forehead into his shoulder. He tries to wrench free. I hold on, feet spread, waiting for my legs to feel like mine again.

He digs a short punch into my side. I tighten my grip.

Come on. Make it to the horn, Sloan, then you can regroup.

After a few breaths, the floor feels steady. I work an arm inside his and turn us a fraction off the fence. He pulls back to throw a punch, but I catch him with a short uppercut. It buys me a second to move, but he’s straight after me.

The rest of the round is ugly. I jab to keep him off, grab him when he gets too near, and blink blood out of my eye. Every time I get a little space, he closes it.

When the horn finally goes, I could kiss the timekeeper.

I walk back to the stool. My legs are steady again, but I wipe my brow with the back of my glove and it comes away red.

The cutman is waiting for me. I tip my head back and let him work. He wipes away the blood and presses a swab to the cut above my eyebrow. I flinch.

“Stay still,” Davie says, crouching in front of me. “You took the first two rounds, but you got greedy there. You landed and left yourself open.”

I spit the gumshield into a waiting hand. “Aye. I know.”

“Then don’t do it again. Set him up. The body shots are hurting him.” Davie glances at my brow as the cutman works. “You can finish this, Ryan, but you cannae give him another two rounds to keep opening that up.”

The bottle comes to my mouth. I rinse, spit, and take a breath. My ribs hurt when I fill my lungs.

“Are you wi’ me?” Davie asks.

“Aye. Jab. Work the body. Keep my hands up coming out.”

He nods. The cutman eases the pressure off my brow and seals the cut with grease.

As Davie moves aside, I glance up. Briony’s leaning forward in her seat, a hand pressed to her mouth. I can’t tell whether she’s worried about me or just hates what she’s seeing, but when our eyes meet, she doesn’t look away.