20 September 2019 - `5 Minute Fiction Friday
He saw a spatter of his own blood fly to the canvas as the latest blow came in. His ears rang, his eyes blurred, but he had been prepared; it had to look convincing.
He fell back to the ropes, swaying. The smell of blood, stale sweat and crowd anticipation did nothing to halt his intense focus.
He ducked beneath another exhausted jab and he locked eyes with him, the lens of his speckled glasses doing nothing to hide the steely glare he had become so notorious for.
He knew what he had to do, to save her.