Damon sat on the stool, breathing slow and steady as the cut man worked at the swelling around his eye.
He felt the ache in his legs, the tight burn in his shoulders, but he knew he was still in control.
He had dominated the past rounds, at least, that's what he believed.
His gloves rested on his knees, fingers twitching, mind sharp.
He'd expected this to be a back-and-forth, but he hadn't expected it to stay standing the whole way. Damon hadn't even touched his wrestling this fight. He didn't need to.
This had been pure striking, a chess match of fists and feet, a contest of willpower and technique.
And it was the kind of fight that usually ended with someone knocked out.
Damon could feel it, Jon was still there, still fighting, but Damon had been breaking him down piece by piece.
He wasn't sure how much longer Jon could keep taking it.
They finished the touch up quickly.
