Mac, understanding the stakes, locked the doors to the public. For six weeks, Elara trained
like a demon. She shed the rust of five years, her movements becoming sharper, her strikes
deadlier.
The Apex arena was a subterranean concrete bunker, packed with wealthy spectators
baying for blood. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the metallic tang of adrenaline.
Elara walked down the ramp to the cage, wearing her old colors: black and crimson.
Her opponent, The Anvil, was a massive woman, heavily tattooed, with a reputation for
putting opponents in the hospital. The bell rang.
The Anvil charged, much like Bull had, but with professional speed and power. Elara