Kings Never Die

It took one look. One look and I was madly in love with him. He was cocky, like every other boxer I’ve seen. But there was something else in his blue eyes. He didn’t know my name but he looked at me like I was the only girl in the arena. And the moment he knocked my brother out with one strike, I knew I was his. I knew Ryan Hart wasn’t going anywhere.

Despite my mother’s warnings and my brother’s jealous ranting, Ryan and I were inseparable. We were always together. We fought like cats and dogs, sure. But when we loved? We loved hard. We were each other’s everything. My mother and aunts thought this was a toxic relationship. But even if it was, I never cared about anything they said. That was until Ryan’s attitude started to change. At first it was subtle, angry explosion here and jealous paranoia there. I didn’t think anything of it. Then he started getting violent. Naturally I told my mom, and the look in her eye told me everything I needed to know.

Ryan was suffering from something boxers like to call, Punch-Drunk Syndrome. It’s common in boxers, but that’s not the scary thing. The scary thing is, my father died because of it. And now the love of my life could possibly heading down the same path. With a little girl on the way, my biggest fear was losing him. Despite what he thinks, kings do die. He’s not as untouchable as he thinks he is.