Dani never stood a chance.
That was the truth of it. She was good—quick, fluid, deceptive—but Vera Duvall was something else entirely. Dani had realized it too late. And by then, it didn't matter.
She had tapped out.
And Vera had kept going.
The crowd roared, but I barely heard it. My eyes were on Dani's still form. Vera had finally released her, letting her collapse onto her hands, her body convulsing slightly before she slumped forward, unconscious. Foam dribbled from her lips, her breathing shallow.
Her team moved fast. Not to stop the fight—no one had dared to interfere. They had simply waited, motionless, as Vera squeezed the life out of their fighter. And only once Vera turned and walked away did they rush in, one of them immediately pressing down on Dani's chest, another forcing back her lips to ensure she didn't choke on her own spit.
They knew this would happen. They expected it.
And worse, they accepted it.
