Ruby's heart lodged itself somewhere between her ribs and her throat, pounding so violently she was surprised no one around her noticed. Her palms were slick with sweat, but she didn't wipe them. She couldn't look away.
The arena roared, thousands of voices colliding into a single, deafening sound, but Ruby barely heard it. The world had narrowed to the woman inside the cage.
Riley Scott moved like a force of nature.
Every step, every shift of her weight, pulled Ruby's gaze with an almost painful insistence. Her short black hair clung messily to her face, damp with sweat, her tattooed arms flexing as she threw punch after punch. She was bruised, breathing hard, desperation etched into her features, and somehow, impossibly, still breathtaking.
Ruby swallowed.
There was something terrifying about watching someone so beautiful fight like this. Something holy. Something that made Ruby's chest ache.
Riley's opponent lunged, her leg snapping upward in a vicious kick aimed straight for Riley's face.
Ruby's breath hitched. Her fingers curled into fists.
God, no.
The idea of that gorgeous face marred by a scar felt like a personal offense to the universe. Ruby's pulse thundered as Riley twisted just in time, dodging the kick with a fluid, almost inhuman speed.
Riley countered, one brutal punch, then another.
Her opponent crumpled.
Didn't get back up.
The arena exploded.
The sound hit Ruby like a wave, vibrating through her bones as the crowd surged to its feet. She felt it in her chest, her skin prickling with adrenaline that wasn't even hers.
"The winner of this fight—and the reigning UFC Women's Champion for the past five years—Riley Scott!"
Ruby shivered.
Her eyes snapped back to the cage as Riley lifted her championship belt, jumping like she'd just conquered the world. Her face was fierce, flushed, alive, and the look in her eyes made something dangerous coil in Ruby's stomach.
Ruby wanted that look directed at her.
She wanted it desperately.
The crowd slowly thinned after the match, fans trickling out in buzzing clusters, but Ruby remained rooted to her seat, replaying every second in her head like a sacred ritual.
"Ruby!"
She flinched.
Sophie stood in the aisle with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised in warning. "We should go. The match is over."
Ruby didn't even glance at her. "Not yet."
Sophie groaned. "Please tell me you're not doing this again."
"I just want to see her one more time."
Sophie slapped her forehead. "Oh my god. Your little girl crush has gone way too far. We've been here hours after the match ended. I have a life, you inconsiderate little shit."
Ruby finally looked at her, pouting slightly. "Fine. We can leave. Only because I owe you for coming with me."
She cast one last longing look toward the arena. "I'll see you later, my future wife."
Sophie grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the exit. "You are unhinged. You've been obsessed with her for ages. Let's go before you drown us both in your drool."
The night air was cold as they left the stadium, but Ruby barely felt it, her veins still buzzed with Riley's victory. Somewhere between giddy rambling and adrenaline-fueled laughter, they decided shots were a fantastic idea.
The club was loud, dark, and alive. Music pulsed through the walls, through the floor, straight into Ruby's chest. She swayed instinctively, letting it carry her as she danced toward the bar, Sophie close behind.
"Tequila," Ruby declared.
"Obviously," Sophie agreed.
After that, the night dissolved into noise and dancing and heat. Laughter blurred into shouting. Faces smeared into lights. The last thing Ruby remembered clearly was thinking, I wonder if Riley Scott likes tequila.
Ruby woke up feeling like death had personally taken offense to her existence.
Her head throbbed. Her mouth was dry. She was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, and had absolutely no memory of getting home.
Fantastic.
She shuffled into the kitchen and started the coffee maker on pure instinct. That's when she spotted Sophie sprawled across the couch, mouth open, drool streaking down her chin, a blanket half on the floor.
Ruby snorted.
She snapped a picture. For blackmail. Obviously.
Sophie groaned as Ruby nudged her awake and handed her a mug. "Thanks for bringing me home last night,"
Ruby said, voice rough but amused. "I barely remember anything after the club."
Sophie squinted at her. "What are you talking about?"
Ruby frowned.
"Weren't you the one who brought me home?"
They stared at each other.
Silence stretched.
"…Okay, that's unsettling," Ruby muttered.
She checked her phone. Dozens of photos. All blurry. All useless. No helpful clues. Just chaos.
"At least we're alive," Sophie said, already curling back up. "Now shut up so I can go back to sleep. My head is killing me."
Ruby retreated to her room, unease settling in her chest as she collapsed back into bed.
Who the hell brought them home?
RILEY POV
After the match, Riley showered, let the physician examine her, accepted ointment for swelling like it was part of a ritual she knew by heart. Contrary to popular belief, being a martial artist was brutal. When the adrenaline faded, all that remained was soreness so deep it made moving feel optional.
All Riley wanted was her bed. Snacks. A movie. Burgers. Ice cream. Anything forbidden by the hellish diet she'd just endured.
"Yo, Riley! We're hitting the club, get your ass out here!"
She winced as Blake yelled directly into her ear.
"I'm exhausted," Riley complained, tugging on her hoodie. Grey hoodie. Black pants. Sneakers. Comfortable. Done.
"You can rest when you're dead. Tonight we party."
Blake grinned like the menace he was. They'd been friends since childhood. He was a professional boxer. Loud, reckless, loyal to a fault. Without him, Riley knew she wouldn't be where she was.
"Okay," she sighed. "But if I die, I'm haunting you."
"At least you'll look hot doing it," Blake shot back.
The club was already buzzing when they arrived. The bouncer waved them in instantly, escorting them to VIP.
Drinks lined the table like trophies.
The DJ cut the music.
The crowd booed.
"Relax," a voice boomed over the speakers. Riley groaned, covering her face. She knew exactly where this was going. "My best buddy just won the match of the year! Raise your glass for Riley Scott, free drinks on me!"
Cheers erupted.
Riley smiled despite herself.
The owner, Donnie Cortez, hugged her moments later, a whirlwind of energy. Girls flooded the VIP section, mostly gravitating toward Blake. Riley slipped away to the bar, uninterested.
She ordered a gin and tonic and watched the dance floor, until a body suddenly slammed into her.
Warm hands grabbed her face.
Lips crashed into hers.
Tongue. No warning. No hesitation.
Riley froze.
When it finally ended, she stared into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. The woman was blonde, flushed, undeniably beautiful, and very, very drunk.
"Hi, wifey," the girl smiled.
Riley's heart stuttered.
The woman wrapped herself around Riley like she belonged there. "You're gorgeous. Please marry me."
Riley tried, unsuccessfully, to disentangle herself.
The girl's friend eventually appeared, laughed, celebrated, and then begged Riley to take them home before they got mugged.
Keys were shoved into Riley's hand.
An address rattled off.
Both women promptly passed out.
Riley stared at them, stunned, pulse racing.
She had won the biggest fight of her career.
And somehow, this felt even more dangerous.