Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(86)

The kid rambles off a string of French, and although I have no idea what he’s saying, I can sense his enthusiasm.

“He says he has never missed a single one of your fights, and that your fight against Lyon was the most impressive under-one-minute fight in UFL history.” She cups her mouth to whisper. “He’s kind of obsessed.”

Flashbacks of when I was this kid’s age, looking up to Jonah at the airport and spouting off his fight stats, flicker in my mind. If I’d only known then the future that awaited, my fate hanging in the balance and depending on that one seemingly random connection… I set eyes on the kid, his grin contagious. “Thank you. I appreciate that. You ever consider becoming a fighter?”

Again he and Fleur go back and forth, and she turns to me. “He said, ‘Yes, but it’s difficult because his parents think he should study to be an engineer, saying it’s a safer route.’”

“I know the feeling. Someone once told me I was too smart for sports.”

She translates.

I pat the kid on the shoulder, and his eyes widen and move to where I touched him. “Don’t give up on your dreams, okay?”

He nods as the translation is completed and then holds up a black Sharpie marker, shaking it and pointing to his shirt.

“He wants you to sign his shirt.”

“Sure.” I grab the pen, and he turns around and offers me his back.

I don’t have to think of the right thing to write. I already know. It took one sentence to inspire me. I think the same can be done for this kid.

Rene,

No one dictates your future but you.

—Quick Kill McCreery

I’m finally able to pass along the one piece of advice given to me by The Assassin to someone who needs to hear it.

Rene turns back around and holds up his phone, indicating he wants a photo. Our little interaction has attracted some attention, and people gather around, snapping photos. Rene and I get a quick selfie, and he hugs me before running off to a group of waiting teens.

This is why I should stay—for kids like Rene. I had The Assassin, and there were days in high school that I’m not proud of where I contemplated putting an end to the bullying and the suffering. It was the promise of seeing another UFL fight that helped me hang on most days. Then it was Axelle, but she’s gone.

The crowd closes in, snapping photos and asking questions in French. I hook my arm over Fleur. “Think we better go before the paparazzi show up.”

She wraps her arm around my waist, and we motion to the other guys who’ve congregated close by that we’re headed to our car.

“Anyone up for an early dinner?” Liam waves to our drivers, who’ve been patiently waiting for us to finish up at the tower. “Our flight to the states leaves at the butt crack of dawn.”

“Sounds good to me.” I usher Fleur into the backseat, turning one last time to get a glimpse of the tower, but the incessant snapping of cameras has me climbing into the car sooner than I’d like.

In twenty-four hours, I’ll be flying high over American soil.

And I’m scared to death what going home will bring.

*





Axelle





I love my job.

Granted, it’s the kind that requires a uniform, but I don’t mind that as much as I thought I would. I work for a great company, one that prides itself on loyalty, hard work, and commitment. It’s more like a family, really.

Actually, for me, that’s exactly what it is. Family.

And for the first time in my life, I’m proud of who I am and what I do. I’ve worked hard to get here, and I’ve earned my position. The interview process alone would’ve inflamed all my old insecurities. God knows my boss isn’t the most sensitive man in the world. But I’m not that insecure girl anymore. I faced adversity, fell in its wake, and dragged myself to my feet to move forward.

I filter through my work shirts embroidered with the company logo and settle for the blue one. I like the way it brings out my eyes.

Sliding that over my head with a pair of workout leggings and one of my three pairs of color-coordinated Nikes, I grab my bag and head to the kitchen to grab a bite before I go.

“Goooood morning, family!”

“Oh!” My mom slams her cell phone into her lap with a forced smile. “Morning!”

I narrow my eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“What? Nothing.” More of that fake smile.

I pin Blake with a glare. “What’s going on?”

He sucks on his teeth, seeming to struggle with how to answer my question. “Just, uh…” He slams his lips shut.

I peek over at Jack, who has his nose buried in a bowl of cereal, his mop of golden hair ruffled from sleep. I swear when you give that kid food he forgets the world around him even exists.

“Jackie Bear, help a sister out.”

He blinks up at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Huh?”

“Ugh, you’re no help.” I motion toward him and his trough. “Continue.”

He goes back to his cereal, and I turn back to Mom and Blake.

I nod to her lap. “Something interesting on your phone there, Mom?”

“Oh, this?” She holds it up and then makes a psht sound with her lips. “I was just noticing the…weather?”