Rocky lay flat on his back, staring up at the blinding lights above the cage.
For several seconds, he couldn't comprehend what had happened.
He had been so close. One more punch, and he would have sent Nemesis crashing to the floor.
Instead, he was the one lying helplessly on the canvas.
How the hell did this happen?
The punch Nemesis had taken wasn't a mistake. It was a trap.
Nemesis had deliberately allowed the blow to connect, using the brief opening to launch a devastating counterattack. The kick struck Rocky with such brutal force that he felt something crack beneath the impact.
His ribs.
They had to be broken.
Every attempt to draw a breath sent a sharp, stabbing pain through his chest. His body refused to obey him, no matter how desperately he tried to move.
Then a shadow fell across his face.
Nemesis crouched beside him and their gazes met.
The black mask concealed most of the fighter's face, but those eyes—
Rocky's pupils constricted.
He knew those eyes.
