The Slayer (Untamed Hearts #2)(34)
“Or right hook. We still see him fighting orthodox, very unusual for him.”
“He’s not doing half-bad. I can see a lot of training went into his new strategy. Oh! A right hook from Garcia. This was very good strategy on the part of his camp. Evans has been preparing all these months, expecting that powerful left hook Garcia’s become known for. We’re not seeing it, but we don’t know if he’s going to pull it out. It could throw Evans off. Another kick from Evans, but we’re seeing good footwork from Garcia. He trains with Wyatt Conner too, former UFC fighter, known for amazing footwork.”
The round seemed to last forever, with the commentators rambling on about strategies and left hooks and right uppercuts and footwork. All Alaine saw once the round ended was that Chuito had a horrible cut over his right eye that his team was trying to treat in a way that looked very painful.
Chuito’s dark gaze was intense as he stared ahead; then he turned to Wyatt and said something that sounded sort of like, “Fuck this.”
“That round clearly went to Evans,” the commentators were saying as they flashed to Evans. “Garcia is just not as experienced as Evans. He doesn’t have the fights under his belt that Evans has.”
Alaine could already feel her heart dropping, but she didn’t stop praying. Hoping. Wishing with everything in her.
When round two started, she was back to peeking through her fingers.
“Nice kick by Evans,” the announcer started. “It is loud in here tonight. Evans is a very popular fighter, but you’re hearing that chant of USA. A lot of people want a win for Garcia tonight. A great uppercut from Evans!”
Chuito’s head snapped back with the last hit, but he didn’t stumble; he just bounced back, his dark eyes narrowed, his fists held up as he moved around the other fighter.
Alaine could almost see the change in him, some sort of hidden reserve of fury. She wasn’t nearly as surprised as the announcers when Chuito jumped forward.
“A powerful left! Oh! Evans is down!”
Alaine stared in shock, blinking because it was so fast, the way that fighter just dropped flat on his back, blood covering his face.
“KNOCKED OUT COLD!”
The other fighter’s leg shook as the ref leaned over him. He was totally unconscious, his body stunned as if it didn’t know how to react. Just like that and William Evans was passed out and twitching on the mat. It was sort of horribly fascinating to watch.
“A SECOND-ROUND KNOCKOUT BY GARCIA! UFC LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!”
The cage doors opened, and Clay, Wyatt, and Jasper, one of Chuito’s other coaches, ran in. They all piled on him and hugged him. Chuito looked a little shocked, sort of like Alaine felt, just thunderstruck that it was over. That he had won.
There was so much chaos in the aftermath, but Alaine didn’t see it.
She burst into tears instead.
All the fear. All the hope. It all flowed out of her as she slid off the couch and sobbed there alone for Chuito. For what he had achieved. She cried through his octagon interview, where the announcer told everyone that the entire island of Puerto Rico had shut down for his fight, and all Chuito could say about that was, “Gracias, esto fue para mis Boricuas.” He looked to the camera and grinned, showing off his dimples, and actually yelled into the mic, “Weeepa!”
The interviewer asked, “This is a big win. You trained hard. What does it mean to you to be the champion?”
“It means, uh, a lot. Not for myself, for the other people who helped me. I did it for them. It’s not for me. It’s for them. I won for them.” Chuito smiled again, those dimples making him look so handsome. Then he took off the black UFC hat that he was wearing and rubbed a hand over his head that was shaved down to black stubble. The action made him look humble in a way the other fighter didn’t. All the more so when he said, “It was for my brother. For my tiá. Maybe they were watching over me.” He hit his chest as he said it, touching the tattoo over his heart. “For my mother. My cousin Marc.” He lifted an eyebrow at the camera. “My bros in Miami. My bros at the Cellar.” He turned around and reached out to Wyatt, clasping his hand quickly before he turned back to the camera and said, “It was for you too, mami.”
More tears ran down Alaine’s face, because it felt like he was talking directly to her. He didn’t say her name. He didn’t have to. She knew he was talking to her.
Then the moment was over as Chuito finished with, “?Y fue para Puerto Rico!”
It wasn’t the last thing Chuito had to say throughout the night. He did another postgame interview, this time wearing dark sunglasses to hide the cut over his right eye. His black UFC hat was pulled low on his forehead, making him almost look normal, rather than battered and bruised.
The other fighter was surprisingly gracious in his defeat.
Just as Chuito was humble with his win.
Not all fights ended like that. Some fighters were cruel and cocky in the aftermath. Chuito wasn’t one of them. He was genuinely likable in the limelight, though Alaine knew he would argue with her if she told him that.
All she could think about as she watched it was his promise that it was for her too. It felt like it meant something. Like he was going to stay here, and maybe, just maybe, they could be more than neighbors and friends who had sleepovers more often than not.