Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother novel Chapter 189

The crowd roared like thunder.

I stood in the center of the ring, blood dripping from my split lip, my opponent unconscious at my feet. The referee grabbed my arm and raised it high.

“Winner! SERA

The noise crashed over me. Cheering, Screaming. Money changing hands. But I felt nothing.

Just the burn in my lungs. The ache in my ribs. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

Good. Pain was good. Pain meant I wasn’t thinking.

“Jesus Christ, Sera.” Rico appeared beside me, pressing a towel against my bleeding eyebrow. “You trying to kill yourself out there?”

“I won, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but barely.” He guided me toward my corner, his grip tight on my arm. “You took way too many hits. What the hell were you

thinking?”

I wasn’t. That was the point.

The medic appeared with his kit, dabbing at the cut above my eye. I flinched but didn’t pull away.

“This needs stitches,” the medic said.

“Later.” I grabbed the towel from Rico, wiping blood from my face. “When’s my next fight?”

Rico stared at me. “Your next–Sera, you just finished a fight. A brutal one. You need rest.”

“I don’t need rest. I need another match.”

“Tomorrow night. But seriously, you should–”

“Good. Sign me up.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. His eyes scanned my face, seeing too much.

“You’re going to burn out at this rate,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’ve fought six times in two weeks. That’s insane even for you.” Rico crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. I just want to work.”

“Bullshit.” He leaned closer. “Talk to me.”

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189 Chapter 189

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I stood up, ignoring the way my legs shook. “I’ll be here tomorrow. What time?”

Rico studied me for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Nine PM. But Sera? You need to be careful. This pace… it’s not sustainable.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I climbed out of the ring, my body screaming in protest. Every muscle ached. My head throbbed. My knuckles were raw and bloody beneath the tape.

Perfect.

The locker room was empty when I got there. I stripped off my gloves and wraps, wincing as the tape pulled at my torn skin.

My reflection in the mirror looked like hell. New bruises blooming across my cheekbone. Split lip. Cut eyebrow still bleeding through the butterfly bandage. Dark circles under my eyes.

I looked exactly how I felt.

Broken.

*Stop it. Don’t think. Just move.*

I turned on the shower as hot as it would go and stepped under the spray. The water burned against my cuts and bruises, but I

welcomed it.

Pain. Focus on the pain. Nothing else.

But my mind wouldn’t cooperate. It kept drifting back to that street. To Damien. To *her*.

My chest tightened. I pressed my forehead against the shower tiles, letting the water pound against my back.

*He moved on. Of course he moved on. What did you expect?*

The soap stung when I scrubbed at my face. Good. I scrubbed harder.

By the time I got out, my skin was red and raw. I pulled on clean clothes with mechanical movements. Jeans. T–shirt. Hoodie to cover the

bruises.

Rico was waiting when I emerged.

“Walk with me,” he said.

It wasn’t a request.

We walked through the warehouse in silence, past other fighters warming up, past equipment and heavy bags and the ever–present

smell of sweat and blood.

“I got some news,” Rico said finally.

“What kind of news?”

“The good kind. Maybe.” He glanced at me. “There’s been talk. About you.”

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1 frowned. “What kind of talk?”

“The kind that says you’re one of the best female fighters this circuit has ever seen.” He stopped near the back exit. “And that kind of

talk? It attracts attention.”

“What kind of attention?”

“The wealthy kind. The powerful kind.” Rico’s expression turned serious. “I’m hearing rumors that some big players might start showing

up to watch fights. Scouting talent.”

My stomach twisted. “Big players?”

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