The gym smelled like sweat and blood — a familiar scent that felt almost comforting by now. The sound of heavy bags getting thumped, gloves smacking pads, and Victor's gravelly voice barking instructions filled the space. Jack Hayes stood in the middle of the mat, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his toes, trying to stay loose. He knew the next five months were gonna be hell.
And he welcomed it.
"Again!" Victor shouted.
Jack dropped into a wrestling stance just as the 220-pound monster charging at him went for a double-leg takedown. Jack sprawled, his hips heavy, but the big bastard was strong — too strong. Jack felt his feet skid backward as they grappled, and before he knew it, his back hit the mat hard.
"Fuck!" Jack hissed, slamming a fist against the mat.
"Don't get mad," Victor said, arms crossed as he watched from the edge of the mat. "Get better."