Page 3 of Ensnared

“We agreed on nothing,” I say. “But even if we did, that was before you started giving people orders behind my back.”

“Why do you think I did that?”

I put more pressure on his arm, realizing belatedly that he’s not even trying to get loose. “Hey.” I knee him. “Fight.”

“Fight what?” he asks. “You got me.”

I’m actually angry enough that I want to break it. He’s doing the same thing he ordered them to, not going full-on. Instead of doing something monumentally stupid, I throw his arm away and stand up in disgust. “Why?” I kick his side as hard as I can. “Why aren’t you trying?”

“Last month, Holden broke your nose.” He stretches and bounces lightly. “Last week, Javi gave you a black eye.”

And I’m swearing under my breath again. “That’s the game, Gideon. It’s how it works. You know that better than anyone.”

He drops his voice and ducks his head. “Well, maybe it’s different for me.”

“What dumb crap are you saying?”

“Alright, you two. My office.” Coach Sousa looks ticked, and when he’s that mad, we can’t ignore him. He’s been known to cancel fights, or worse, sub another fighter in your place.

Gideon stops in front of the office and waves me in. I kick him as I pass. Stupid jerk, acting like he’s all chivalrous. Coach Sousa closes the door, which is basically a red flag to the entire gym that stuff’s about to go down.

“Alright. What’s going on?” I ask.

“I can’t keep watching you get hurt,” Gideon says. “Don’t get mad at me for trying to help.”

“Help? I’m a fighter, not some elderly lady who bought too many groceries.” I slam a fist into his stomach as hard as I can. “It’s not helping, you jerk. We go hard so we can win. Your idiocy might cost me the fight.”

He barely grunts, and then pushes past me and sits in a chair, like nothing even happened.

Coach reams us for fighting on the floor, and tells us how we set the example for the other fighters, yada yada. It’s nothing that we haven’t heard before. But then, he stops.

He yelled at both of us.

Like I was the problem. “Did you hear what he did?” My hand’s itching to punch Coach in the stomach, now. “He told the guys?—”

“Liz.” Coach Sousa grits his teeth.

“What?” I look from Coach to Gideon and back again. “What am I missing here? Or did the two of you suddenly break misogynist for no reason?”

Coach Sousa sighs. “I have to tell her now—that’s on you.”

Gideon exhales.

“His next fight, the one the week after yours, is Gideon’s last.” Coach Sousa’s words are flat, his mouth a grim line.

“What?” My eyes fly to Gideon’s face. “What’s he talking about?”

Gideon shrugs. “My heart’s not in it anymore.”

“No way,” I say. “I don’t buy it.”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter whether you do or not.”

“Our finest fighter is enlisting.” Coach Sousa spits on the floor. His voice goes up when he says, “Special ops.”

Why would Gideon do that now, when he’s finally on top?

My oldest friend—my self-appointed nanny—doesn’t give me any kind of answer. He just stands up and heads for the door.