He wasn’t attacking in any way. Instead, he moved and dodged his opponent’s punches, simply avoiding being hit. Bouncing back and forth, weaving around the other fighter. It was a beautiful display of his athleticism, and yet terrifying. “He’s so fucking smart.” Piers sounded impressed, so I leaned closer, trying to hide my knowledge and interest. “Who?” “That guy…Appalachia. He’s running on defense right now, letting that fighter Asylum wear himself out. I’ve seen him hit—the guy’s a beast and could have knocked his opponent to the floor already, but instead, he’s waiting. The bosses are going to love him.” “Why would they love him?” I glanced at Piers for a split second, too worried about Cahill to turn away for any longer. Piers was completely focused on the fight, his eyes dark, an expression close to obsession on his chiseled face. “The bosses like longer fights, remember?”
