Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Forty-One

The cheering of the crowd is deafening. They don't seem to care who wins or loses, they just enjoy the violence. They like watching Ghost get knocked around.

My heart is racing and my breathing is ragged when I throw myself against the barrier separating the stands from the ring. There are flocks of people standing around; cameramen, medics, crew, as well as the tables with the judges and commentators.

I search frantically for Dane, and spot him standing a few yards away, right next to the ring, watching Ghost with a worried expression as he chews on his nails.

I scream out his name, hoping he'll turn and look at me. He doesn't hear me, but I notice the people sitting around me start passing annoyed looks from the commotion. I ignore the curious gazes and shout for Dane again just as two sets of hands grip either one of my arms and tug me backwards. I wrench away from them and scream once more, as loud as my voice can carry.

Finally, Dane's head jerks in my direction. There's a discerning frown on his face as he tries to figure out who just yelled his name. His eyes lock on mine as the men try once again to haul me away. He hurries forward with a confused expression.

"Emerson?" He shouts over the noise, coming up to the other side of the barrier.

I kick my legs out, trying to stop the guys from pulling me away, "Dane." My voice is frantic.

He quickly snaps into action, calling to the men, "Hey, stop. She's with me."

They pause, but don't let go of me as one of them questions, "You know her?"

Dane nods urgently, his eyes momentarily glancing towards the ring, "Yeah, she's the manager for the fighter, she belongs here with me. Let her go."

"Aren't you the guy's manager?"

"We're both his managers."

Hesitantly, the guys finally let go of me. I don't know if they actually believe Dane, but they probably decide that this is more trouble than they're getting paid for, so they leave me be and walk away.

Dane sends me a curious glance as I step closer, smoothing down my wild hair as I look back at Ghost.

"I really didn't think you would show." Dane comments, sounding a little cautious.

"What round is this? How is he losing already?" I question persistently, ignoring his tone.

"It's the third round—"

"So it's over? I missed it?"

"No, this is a pro match so there are twelve rounds." Dane explains, shaking his head sullenly, "But it's not likely he'll make it through much more. He's not in good shape, Emerson. I think with everything that went down, he's just too distracted to stay focused. He's making rookie mistakes and missing shots left and right."

My heart pounds in my throat as I murmur, "So this is my fault."

Dane doesn't outright agree, but I know he's thinking it. We both watch for a moment as the last ten seconds of the round play out. Ghost barely misses a swing over his head as the buzzer sounds and they both retreat to their corners for the minute-long break.

Hurriedly, I throw myself over the barrier, intent on going to Ghost. He needs to see me. He needs to know I'm here. I'm a little surprised when Dane doesn't protest, he just helps me over before we both rush to Ghost's corner.

He's breathing hard and sweating as he leans against the ropes, while a medic inspects his face and puts Vaseline over the cut on his nose to make it stop bleeding.