The crowd’s roar is like a thunderstorm crashing down on the ring. But I barely hear it. All I can hear, all I can feel, is the pounding of my heart and the chant that fills the air: her name.

Not my name. Never my name. Always hers.

Ace Gunner — the name my father made sure the world would remember. The prodigy. The son of a champion. But what the world doesn’t see is the chain that comes with it. I didn’t choose boxing. Boxing chose me the day my father shoved gloves onto my tiny fists and told me to fight or be nothing.

And now here I am. Still fighting. Still trying to be something.

And there she is — her. The only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m not good enough. Not because she taunts me. No, she doesn’t need to. She’s everything I’m not. She chose this life. She wants this fight. Every time she steps into the ring, it’s like she belongs here. Like she owns the air we both breathe.

She’s shorter than me, but that doesn’t matter. It never did. She’s faster. Smarter in the ring. Like she can read me before I even move. And every time I lose to her — every time I don’t break her — I can hear my father’s voice sneering in my ear. “Ace? You let her beat you?”

I tighten my gloves, watching her enter the ring. There’s something different about her tonight. I see it in the way her shoulders slump just a little. The way her breathing isn’t as steady. She’s hiding it, whatever it is. But I see it. And for the first time in a long time, I smell blood.

My grin sharpens as I step closer, leaning in so only she can hear me over the roar of the crowd.

“And? Afraid of losing?”

My voice is low, teasing, but inside I’m screaming. Because this — this is my chance. This is the night I finally take her down. The night I finally silence my father’s ghost.

And maybe, for once… I hope she’s weaker than she looks.