Path To Resolution (Fighter's Den, #5)

Chapter 34 - Wolfe

I've never been so fucking nervous in my life. This day is going to be important for so many reasons I can't decide what's freaking me out more but I need to be on my A game. I need to fucking do this.

"Emerson."

Coach enters the ring, a small smile playing on his face that I return. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him and not feel so fucking grateful that he's alive.

It's been four months since he was shot and he's recovered well. It took a lot of physiotherapy for him to get back on his feet but he did it. He's a motherfucking champ. You can barely tell he evaded death, aside from the limp he walks with now. We didn't realize it at the time but when Coach jumped in front of me and got hit, he went down at an angle that broke his knee and passed out from the pain rather than the actual bullet. The doctors didn't notice it until they started the surgery and had to treat the bone at the same time as they were dealing with the bullet wound. That's why Coach was out for so long — withstanding two surgeries is no joke. But he woke up four days later and has been going to physiotherapy since. His limp hasn't stopped him from coaching us in the least and I know I'm prepared for this match.

"You doing this?" He asks now and I know it's about more than just the match.

"Yeah," I blow out a nervous breath. "I'm doing this."

"Good," He claps me on the shoulder. "There's no reason you shouldn't. You have it in the bag, son."

"Thank you, Coach."

"Two minutes until the match starts. Need a speech?"

"I'm good," The corner of my mouth tugs up. "Trust me, I'm amped up more than you know."

"I think I do know," He laughs and claps my shoulder again. "Give 'em hell."

I nod and bounce on the heels of my feet, trying to ignore the way my stomach is flipping over. I look around at the crowd and most of them are already on their feet in anticipation, holding signs with my name on it and shouting for me. It's kind of fucking crazy and a hell of a lot different from my first match. My fan base grew after that fifteen-second knockout and they're all eager for more. I hope I can deliver.

"One minute," The ref reminds me and I tip my chin at him.

"Let's go, Emerson!"

"Fuck him up, kid!"

I look back at the front row where all the VIP seats are. Aside from the Fighter's Den gang, Mitch and Dante are here too. It's weird how thing unfolded these past few months. South Bloods was in dire need of a leader after the way it fell apart and surprisingly, Mitch stepped up and took place. He turned the gang around for the better. South Bloods is no longer recognized as a ruthless gang but a damn organized one, with fewer enemies and more allies and who the streets turn to when they're in trouble. Dante rejoined but just as a member, specifically as Mitch's right hand man. The two make an unusual pair and work together well, surprisingly enough.

My eyes shift down the row to where my friends and family are, all of them cheering me on. Their support moves me. As much as I wish everyday that my parents and Gramps could still be with me, it's safe to say I found a kick-ass family that never makes me feel alone. And the person I love most? At the very end of the row, leaning back in her seat and watching me with a smirk that screams all kinds of trouble. She tosses me a wink when I give her a look of warning and have to turn away because she's going to distract the hell out of me at this rate.

"Fighters to the centre of the ring," The ref calls.

My opponent, Douglas Grey, meets me in the middle where we knock together our gloved fists. Grey is a big dude, close to my height and packing on some serious muscle. It's rare to be this tall or muscled in the boxing industry but Grey seems to be on the same spectrum as me so this should be an interesting match.