queen cobra | eli moskowitz

chapter twenty-four.

Isabella's knuckles thudded against the heavy bag, each punch reverberating through her arms and up into her shoulders. Sweat dripped from her brow, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd been at the boxing gym for over an hour, pushing herself harder than ever before.

"Isabella!" Coach Davis barked from across the room. "Watch your form! Don't just swing wildly, focus! Your power's not gonna mean shit if you can't land the hits clean."

She barely acknowledged him, her mind clouded with anger and frustration. The events from the night before at the party played on a loop in her head. Hawk and Moon, Miguel hitting Sam, the argument... it all made her blood boil. She was here to work it out, to hit something until her body screamed for mercy, but the fire inside her only seemed to grow hotter with every strike.

Coach Davis wasn't having it, though. He stepped closer, clapping his hands loudly to get her attention. "Isabella, focus! Get outta your head and into the fight!"

"Yeah, yeah," Isabella muttered under her breath, taking a step back from the bag. Her fists clenched tightly in the gloves as she inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the mess in her head.

"Alright," Davis said, his voice firm. "You're getting sloppy. You need to spar. Get in the ring."

Isabella turned toward the center of the gym where a man in his mid-thirties stood, already geared up and waiting. He was bigger than her, heavier, his arms thick with muscle, and the way he bounced on his feet told her that he was experienced. He cracked his neck as he glanced over at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, as if he didn't take her seriously.

That only fueled her anger.

"Go easy on her, Mike!" one of the guys from the gym called out, chuckling. "She's just a kid!"

Isabella's jaw clenched. Just a kid? She'd show them.

She climbed into the ring, her gloves tightening around the ropes as she slipped between them. Coach Davis leaned in from outside, his voice calm but firm. "You know the drill, Isabella. I don't care what's going on in your head, you fight smart. Watch his footwork, stay light on your feet, and don't let him bully you with his size. Now, go."

The bell rang, and Isabella didn't waste any time. She shot forward, her fists raised, eyes locked on her opponent. Her anger was a live wire, buzzing under her skin, and she let it fuel her movements as she threw the first punch, a quick jab to his gut.

The man blocked it easily, his massive forearm absorbing the blow like it was nothing. He smirked, his eyes taunting her, daring her to try again. He danced around her, his footwork smooth and practiced. But Isabella wasn't deterred. She followed up with another jab, aiming for his ribs this time.

"Too slow, kid," the man said, stepping back and dodging the punch effortlessly. He retaliated with a quick left hook, which Isabella barely managed to block, the force of it sending a shockwave down her arm.

"Move, Isabella!" Coach Davis shouted from the sidelines. "Don't stand still. You're a fighter, not a target."

Isabella gritted her teeth, circling around the man, her eyes narrowing with each step. She threw a combination of punches, left jab, right hook, left uppercut, but the man deflected most of them, his size giving him the advantage. Every time he hit her, it was like getting struck by a freight train. She could feel the power behind each blow, and it only made her angrier.

"Stop rushing!" Coach barked. "You're getting emotional. That's how you get hurt. Breathe!"

Isabella ignored him, ducking under the man's punch and going for his midsection with a brutal right hook. This time, she felt the impact, her glove sinking into his flesh. He grunted, the first sign that she had gotten to him. She followed up with another quick punch, aiming higher for his jaw, but he was ready.