Falcon (Own the Skies Book 3)

by Emma Nichole

  There are so many spots in my vision it’s more than difficult to see anything in front of me.

  When we are told to come out fighting, my body works on autopilot. I bring my hands up to protect my face.

  I can see Jesse Dominique across from me, but he’s a hazy blur. He’s moving around, stalking me, and when he comes close enough, I swing out, connecting a blow to his right shoulder.

  He retaliates with a punch to my stomach and a swing kick to my legs, trying to knock me off balance, and he nearly succeeds. I stumble, much to the pleasure of the crowd, but I right myself easily and take a few steps back to regain the upper hand.

  Dominique rushes me again, and I bend forward, taking a swing at his stomach then forcing a kick the same way, nailing him in the chest.

  He retaliates with a solid blow to the top of my head with his right hook.

  It shakes me to my core and almost sends me to my knees. I stumble back into the cage and he attacks. Landing blow after blow after blow to my head and my body. But I don’t tap out. I never tap out. I raise my hands as best I can, lock them together over his hand and bring them down with all of my force to an area between his shoulder blades.

  He coughs out as the air leaves his lungs and he steps back away from me as Round 1 comes to an end.

  I can feel that my head is bleeding. He broke skin. It’s confirmed when the team descends on me to patch me up before Round 2 begins.

  “Falc, man, look at me.” Joe is down in front of me, holding my face in his hands to see if anything else needs attention. “Are you all right? You’re getting manhandled out there.”

  “I’m fine.” I shove him away a bit so I can put my head back down, away from the lights.

  “Like hell you are. What the fuck is going on?”

  “I said I’m fine.” I take a breath and put on the best game face I can. Fighting through the pain. “Let’s do this.”

  I push from the cage and head back to the middle of the Octagon and Round 2 begins and ends much the same as round one.

  It’s scrappy, it’s messy, and it’s bloody. And with each passing moment, I feel worse…and worse.

  I try to fight. I really do, but my punches connect with air. My kicks and shoves lead nowhere.

  I don’t even see him coming for me. I don’t see him taking his swing. I just feel the impact of his fist in the center of my face…then the sharp slam of his foot connecting with the left side of my head.

  I don’t even feel my body connect with the mat.

  Everything is just…black.

  Chapter 26

  Faith

  There’s only so much shitty hospital coffee you can drink before your stomach starts recoiling at the smell.

  I’ve been pacing back and forth since the minute we stepped into the ER, unable to sit, unable to focus, unable to settle.

  I haven’t seen Marco since he hit the mat and chaos took over.

  Jesse Domonique raised his hands in victory and the crowd went wild. It took everyone entirely too long to realize Marco was still on the mat, not moving.

  I tried to get to him, I really did, but the press descended upon the floor, snapping photos and shouting questions and words I didn’t even comprehend at the time.

  Frank found me amongst the madness and took my hand, pulling my up the stairs toward the main entrance. I tried to stop him. I wanted to get to Marco, I needed to, but he told me we had to go because we needed to be at the hospital when the ambulance got there.

  He shoved me into the back of the black SUV I arrived in, with Vincent in the driver’s seat, and an hour later, here I stand, shaking like a leaf, waiting on something, anything. I need a shred of news. A shred of an update.

  “What is taking so long?” I ask out loud, to no one in particular.

  Joe pats my back. “We’ll know something soon. We have to.”

  “Is he okay? Is he awake? What happened? I…I’m just…I hate waiting like this with all the unknown.”

  I haven’t cried yet. I’m not sure why. It’s like I’m emotionally frozen. I can’t react until I have answers, otherwise I’d be fetal right about now.

  “They aren’t saying much right now, ma’am. I’m just not sure.”

  “Faith, please. Call me, Faith,” I tell him, as I sink down to sit beside him.

  Courtney has been pacing in the hallways, fielding a bunch of calls from the press about what happened and what his current state is. According to her, there is a media firestorm happening outside of the hospital. Apparently this has gone viral and in this day and age, that means it’s absolutely freaking everywhere.

  Fucking vultures.

  “I’m looking for the family of Marco Masen,” a young doctor calls from the doorway of the waiting area.

  I rise from my seat so quickly; I’m shocked there isn’t a trail of smoke behind me. Joe is right on my tail and Courtney as well.

  “We’re his family,” Joe says.

  “I’m his…”

  The doctor interrupts me, “You’re Faith, right?”

  “I am.” I nod.

  “I’m Dr. Ford, I’m going to be taking care of Mr. Masen tonight. He’s been asking for you since the minute he arrived.” The doctor smiles. “He said I’d know who you were immediately because you’re the knockout in blue.

  I relax just a little with a smile. “So he’s okay then? If he’s making jokes, he has to be.”

  “He is. He does have a concussion from the kick to his head and subsequent fall to the ground. All his vitals look great. He is alert and talking.”

  “So what happened?” Joe asks.

  “Well, his history of head trauma is starting to show itself in the form of migraines. It’s relatively common after a head injury to have sporadic headaches, but with repeated concussions in quick succession, that’s when we start to worry. It can cause any number of problems that I can’t even begin to cover standing right here. But, in my professional opinion, and I’ve stated it to him multiple times in the time I’ve been treating him here, he needs to consider stepping away from contact sports. He can be prescribed medication for the chronic migraines, but with the way his body is responding to the concussions, I fear that another one now or sometime down the line may be too much for him to recover from.”

  I close my eyes and let all of the information sink in.

  “So you mean, he could die?” Courtney asks.

  “Not necessarily,” Dr. Ford replies. “But that is something we have to consider. The more likely scenario is brain damage. Loss of motor function, memory.”

  “Jesus.” I chew on my thumbnail. “Can we go see him?” I am eager to see him, touch him, to see with my own eyes he is okay.

  “We can let you go back one at a time. Hospital rules,” Dr. Ford says. “I’ll be back around to check on him a little later.” He nods and makes his way out of the waiting room.

  I turn toward Joe. “You should go. You’re his family. He needs you.”

  “He’s asking for you, Faith. I think it’s high time you realize you’re his family too now.” He gives me a smile. “Go. We’ll be here when you’re done. Don’t rush.”

  I look at Courtney and she nods in agreement.

  “Thank you both. So much.” I turn away and rush down the hall toward the nurses’ station to find out where he is.

  ***

  I stand outside of the door of his room in the emergency department to gather myself before I push open the door and peek around the curtain. My heart explodes and shatters all at once.

  He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown with IVs connected to his arms and monitors attached to his fingers and chest. He looks exhausted, but when he turns his head and sees me waiting for him in the doorway, his eyes light up like a firework.

  “Faith.”

  That’s all he has to say before I bolt across the room and into his arms, careful not to disrupt any of the wires or tubes attached to him.

  He pulls me from my feet and into his lap
across the bed, holding me as tightly as he can as my face buries into the crook of his neck.

  “You scared the shit out of me. Out of all of us,” I whisper against his skin.

  “I know, baby. I’m sorry, but I’m good now. It was just a little mishap and I’m all good to go,” he says, and I lean back to look at his face.

  “Are you really saying that right now?” I shake my head. “You have a concussion. Another one, Marco. You were clearly in so much pain during your fight that you could hardly function. I just, I don’t know when enough is going to be enough.”

  “I don’t want to fight about this, Faith. Not with you and not with anyone else. This isn’t something we have to talk about now or even tomorrow. For now, I just want to hold my girl as tightly as I can. I want to kiss her and remind her how fucking amazing she is. Can we do that?”

  I lean forward and rest my forehead on his chest.

  “This conversation isn’t over, Marco Masen,” I say quietly. “But for now, I want nothing more than to stay right here in your arms.”

  Falcon

  Faith fell asleep in my arms, in the hospital bed, soon after she settled into them. The nurses tried to make me tell her to move, but I put an end to that before it even started.

  I know Courtney and Joe were out in the waiting room, but I sent one of the nurses out to send them back to the hotel, letting them know I’m okay, I’m fine, and I want Faith to stay the night with me.

  I expected to be moved up to a room, which I was fucking dreading because that just comes with its own set of complications and connotations, but apparently, they just want to hold me here for observation until morning.

  I would be lying if I said what happened today didn’t scare me. How could it not?

  It was the worst my head has ever been, and on top of that, I got fucking embarrassed by Jesse Dominique. I know that isn’t what I should be worried about right now, but this is my fucking career.

  I’m scrolling through Twitter on my phone, and every other tweet is a video of me being knocked out, and every one of them stings to see. It’s a blow to the pride, but it also shows me how fucking terrible I looked. It was obvious on my face that I was in pain.

  I thought I was doing a nice job hiding it. Apparently not.

  The top reply to a video tweeted out by a very well-known gossip site makes my blood run hot and my anger prickle in the back of my neck.

  Twitter reply from @BraxTheKingWhite

  Just like a bitch. On his fucking back where he belongs.

  My hands are shaking when I toss my cell phone to the foot of the bed, happy I stopped myself from chucking it into the fucking wall.

  I hear a soft knock on my door and my nurse, Sherry, sticks her head in.

  I put my finger up to my lips to tell her to be quiet because Faith is still asleep on my chest.

  She nods and walks closer to whisper.

  “Your sister has called the nurses’ station a dozen times. We’ve tried to tell her you’re resting, but she has threatened me directly. If you’re up to it, I’ve told her you’d call from your room.”

  Sherry has been a joy the entire time I’ve been here, which feels like a fucking eternity, even though it’s only been six hours. She’s very soft spoken and kind, and the fact that my pit bull of a sister is raging at her is insane but incredibly typical of Nora.

  “I’ll call off the goons, Sherry. I’m sorry about that. She’s very…protective. She’s a nurse too, so she has the need to know any and everything that happens to me medically.”

  “Oh, I know. She informed me many times that she was a nurse.” She giggles then passes the phone over to me from the rolling tray. “Let me know if you need anything. Either of you.” She nods down to Faith then heads out to let me call Nora in private.

  I dial out her number and wait for her to answer. I check the time while the phone rings.

  It is six in the morning. Which means it’s nine in Georgia. Which means she’s slept about as much as I have. None.

  “Hello?” she says after answering.

  “Can you not threaten my nurses, please?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Marco! I’ve been worried sick! Why haven’t you called me? Why haven’t you updated me? I haven’t heard a thing since Faith called to tell me what happened! But she was too late because that shit was all over the internet the minute it happened. What in the world is going on? Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? Is it your head? Are you hurt? Are they keeping you? Can you feel your legs? What about your head? Does it hurt?”

  Her words come out in one long, rapid tirade.

  “Whoa, whoa. Relax. Slow down. Breathe before you pass out.”

  “I’m not worried about me right now. Marco, you need to tell me what happened and you need to tell me right now.”

  She has that tone I know so well, and in this moment, she sounds just like someone I haven’t heard in a very long time.

  “You sound just like Mom right now. It’s kind of scary actually,” I admit to her.

  “Then be scared enough to talk.”

  “Christ’s sake.” I sigh. “There was this pain in my head. I guess it was a migraine, but I’ve never felt it like this before.” I look down at Faith to see if she’s still sleeping soundly. She is. “It was radiating from my neck and going up behind my eyes.”

  “That’s definitely a migraine. Have they done a CT scan?”

  “They have. Same shit as always.”

  “So you’re being told this is dangerous and you need to stop before you get hurt?”

  “Don’t start, Nora.”

  “What do you mean? Has this not scared you enough? What will it take? Will it take you getting so hurt you can’t walk anymore? Or that you can’t remember me? Or Mom and Dad? Or Faith?”

  The last name stung more than I anticipated.

  Faith. This strong, beautiful woman in my arms was so scared for me. So scared something happened to me. So worried that as soon as she was able to finally relax, she instantly fell asleep, too exhausted to keep her eyes open a moment longer.

  “You know I need to finish what I’ve started, Nor. One more fight won’t kill me. I won’t go out on a damn loss.”

  “One more fight could kill you. That’s my point. That’s everyone’s point, Marco. You’re smarter than this. Don’t do something stupid for your pride, or even in my defense.”

  “Nora, I love you, no matter what, and I hope you can respect any decision I make. Faith is sleeping next to me right now, so I’m going to go so I don’t wake her.”

  “But…”

  “Goodnight, Little Sister.”

  I kill the call before she can even respond.

  Am I being a dick? Maybe a little, but this fight, likely my final one…against a man who wronged my sister, has a reputation for abusing women, and is an all-around piece of shit, needs to be done. And he needs to be put in his place. Knocked down a few pegs, and even if it kills me. I’ll be the one to get it done.

  Chapter 27

  Faith

  Slipping from the hospital bed quietly, as to not disturb Marco, I go into the bathroom and close the door.

  He thought I was sleeping last night when he talked to his sister. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but I also didn’t want to move from his arms.

  He’s never going to step away from fighting.

  Never.

  The thought of that alone is enough to make the pit in my stomach grow. Watching him hit that mat is something I’ll never be able to get out of my brain. His body was limp. He wasn’t moving.

  For a split second, the worst flipped through my brain, but I had to shut that down fast. I couldn’t think that way. If I did, I wouldn’t be functioning.

  I lean against the door and pull my cell phone from my pocket and swipe across the bottom to unlock it. I’m immediately flooded with messages and alerts I didn’t hear before because it was on silent.

  Nora has texted me more times than I can count and called just
as much. Rose. My parents. Case. Amelia.

  I’ve got emails and notifications from social media that I decide to clear out immediately. I pull down my menu and open up Twitter and see Marco’s name is a trending topic in the USA.

  Oh no…

  I click the hashtag and it opens a list of tweets that mention his name. There are news articles, clips of the knockout happening, reactions, press releases, and there are a variety of tweets with varying different tones. Most of which make me sick to my stomach.

  Tweet From @CarlaBrown345

  He’s so hot! Please don’t let him be broken!

  Tweet From @Just_Justice

  Serves him right. Have you SEEN how arrogant he is?

  Tweet From @xxxGamerBro_8

  Who is this Falcon Masen everyone is talking about? Never heard of him in my life.

  Tweet From @BraxTheKingWhite

  Let’s take a poll! Will #FalconMasen be too much of a pussy to fight me?

  Tweet From @BraxTheKingWhite

  Maybe his hot ass sister can take me for a few rounds, if you know what I mean.

  Tweet From @BraxTheKingWhite

  Calling it now, if Falcon shows up to our fight at the end of this week, I’m guaranteeing a solid knockout in the first thirty seconds.

  Tweet From @BraxTheKingWhite

  And while he’s down there, he can suck my dick like the little bitch he is.

  Oh my God. Who is this asshole? Who does he think he is?

  I click his name to see his Twitter page, and he’s instantly a piece of work I’d love to punch square in the face. The type who thinks he rules the world because he has a penis. Who thinks he is a gift to women and we should all bow down before him and he is above the rules.

  The type of man who doesn’t understand the word no.

  I release a slow breath and close out the app before sending off a few texts to those that have asked how he is.

  “Baby?”