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

Chapter 189: Chapter 189
Seraphina’s POV

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.”

“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.”

I 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?”

“Yeah. People with money. Connections. The kind who could offer you real opportunities.” He paused. “There might be one coming soon. Maybe next week. Maybe sooner.”

“What kind of opportunities?”

“I don’t know yet. But Sera?” He grabbed my shoulder, making me look at him. “This could be huge. Life-changing huge. So you need to be at your best. No more reckless fighting. No more taking unnecessary hits.”

I pulled away. “I’m always at my best.”

“No, you’re not. Not lately.” His voice softened. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. And you don’t have to tell me. But whatever it is? You need to get your head straight. Because if these people show up and you’re fighting like you’ve got a death wish, they’ll pass you by.”

“I hear you.”

He studied my face for another long moment. Then he nodded. “Good. Go home. Rest. Ice those bruises. I’ll text you details for tomorrow.”

I walked to my car in the dark parking lot, my body moving on autopilot. The keys felt heavy in my hand.

I should care about that. Should be excited. Should be planning how to impress whoever showed up.

My hands started shaking again. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.

*Stop. Stop thinking about him.*

I turned on the car and pulled out of the lot. The city lights blurred together as I drove, their reflections swimming in the corners of my vision.

Tomorrow I’d fight again. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Until I couldn’t remember why it hurt anymore.