𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?| Robby Keene & Eli Moskowitz [COMPLETED]

𝒍𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊. the end

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN,
THE END

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Cameron stood dead center in the middle of the arena, her heels just brushing the edge of the mat, heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears louder than the roar of the packed crowd. The noise was an ocean-a tidal wave of cheers, chants, and muffled conversations from every direction, merging into a single, overwhelming blur. But none of it mattered. Not the buzzing energy crackling in the air. Not the stifling heat rising from the overhead lights. Not even the announcer's voice booming over the speakers.

All that mattered was what was about to happen.

This was it. The final match. The moment she'd trained for, bled for, fought through bruises and setbacks and god-awful late nights for. The pressure of it all weighed heavy on her shoulders, but underneath the nerves, beneath the ache in her muscles and the sweat on her palms, was something stronger. Determination. Grit. Fire.

And then there was Zara Malik.

Zara-freaking-Malik. The queen of smug smirks and insufferable taunts. The girl who carried herself like she'd already won, who dripped arrogance with every word, every saunter, every eye roll. The girl who never let Cameron forget she was watching her. Studying her. Laughing at her mistakes. Who thought she was untouchable. Invincible.

But tonight? That ends.

Beating Zara wouldn't just be a win on the scoreboard-it'd be a statement. A reckoning. A public takedown of everything Zara represented. Cameron wasn't just here to compete. She was here to silence the noise once and for all.

Her fingers trembled at her sides as she scanned the bleachers, looking for something, someone-her eyes darting past cheering classmates and senseis until they caught on a familiar head of dark curls. Her heart skipped, but the crowd shifted and he disappeared. Miguel. She just needed to see him, just a glimpse, and maybe she could breathe again. Maybe the knot in her chest would loosen.

But before she could look again, someone bumped her arm-firm but not harsh.

"Camden."

Cameron blinked and turned toward the voice. Johnny Lawrence stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes sharp and steady.

"Don't get in your head," he said over the noise. "Just focus on what you gotta do out there and nothing else. Got it?"

There was a quiet strength in his voice, a steel backbone beneath the gruff delivery. Cameron nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Yeah," she murmured, though her fingers betrayed her, lifting to her mouth as she bit at her thumbnail, anxiety still curling in her belly like smoke.

Then-