The Last Round

**Part 1: The Fighter’s Burden**

The gym smelled of sweat and iron—a stench that clung to the air like a second skin. It was late, far too late for anyone to be there, except for Jace Carter. The only sound was the rhythm of his fists pounding into the heavy bag, a dull thud followed by a sharper crack of the chain as it swung. He had been at it for hours, his shirt soaked through, his muscles burning. He was chasing something, though he wasn’t sure what.

Jace wasn’t a young man anymore. At thirty-five, he was well past the age most fighters hung up their gloves. But he couldn’t stop. Boxing was all he had left. It was the only thing that made sense anymore.

Years ago, Jace had been a rising star in the boxing world. He had the speed, the power, the raw hunger that made promoters drool. His name had buzzed through the circuits like a wildfire, and people had started calling him "The Hurricane." Every punch was like a gust of wind followed by a storm—unstoppable. He had fought his way to the top, undefeated for years. But with success came something darker, something he hadn’t anticipated. He started losing himself in the fame, the pressure, the money, and the lifestyle that came with it.

And then came the fall.

Jace had been in the fight of his life. The championship belt was in his grasp, but one mistake—a slip in focus—had changed everything. The punch had come out of nowhere. He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t anticipated it. It had knocked him down and out. The world spun, and when he opened his eyes again, it was over. His opponent was raising his hands in victory, and Jace’s world came crashing down.

He never fully recovered from that loss. Not physically, not mentally. After that, everything felt different. The cheers weren’t as loud, the respect wasn’t as genuine, and slowly, the opportunities began to fade. Jace went from being a contender to a cautionary tale in a matter of months. His sponsors pulled out, his coach abandoned him, and eventually, even his closest friends drifted away.

He started drinking, not enough to destroy him but enough to drown out the noise of his failures. Nights spent in dark bars replaced nights in the gym. He couldn’t escape the weight of that loss—it haunted him, became a shadow that clung to his every step. The one punch that changed his entire life.

He tried to come back a few times, but his heart wasn’t in it. His reflexes slowed, his punches didn’t have the same snap, and every fight felt like he was dragging himself through the mud. People stopped calling him “The Hurricane.” Now they just called him washed up.

But Jace was stubborn. Despite everything, he refused to give up. Boxing wasn’t just a sport to him—it was his identity. He didn’t know who he was without it. And so, he continued to train, even though he knew deep down he wasn’t the fighter he used to be. He kept pushing himself because, in his mind, this was all he had left. He had given up everything for boxing—his relationships, his health, his future—and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

As he worked the heavy bag, his thoughts drifted to his family. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in over a year. Marcus had been his biggest supporter, always in his corner, always there for him. But Jace had pushed him away like he did with everyone who tried to get close. Marcus wanted him to quit, to walk away before boxing destroyed him completely. Jace couldn’t handle hearing it, so he stopped answering his calls. It was easier to isolate himself than to face the truth.

The gym door creaked open, interrupting his thoughts. Jace didn’t stop hitting the bag, but he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Jace,” a familiar voice called out softly.

It was Tommy, his old coach. The man who had trained him from day one, who had believed in him when no one else did. Tommy had been the closest thing to a father Jace had ever had, but they hadn’t spoken much since Jace’s career nosedived.

“You’re here late,” Tommy said, standing beside him now, watching as Jace delivered a sharp right hook to the bag.

“I’m always here late,” Jace replied, his voice hoarse from the hours of training.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Tommy said, his tone cautious. “Look, kid, we need to talk.”

Jace stopped, his fists still hovering in the air. He hated being called “kid” now, especially at his age. He turned to face Tommy, wiping the sweat from his brow. The older man’s face was lined with years of worry and disappointment. He wasn’t wearing his usual grin.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Jace muttered, dropping his hands to his sides. “You think I should quit.”

Tommy sighed, leaning against the ropes of the nearby ring. “I’ve always been straight with you, Jace. You’ve got more heart than anyone I’ve ever trained, but this… this ain’t it anymore. You’re killing yourself out here.”

Jace’s jaw clenched. “I’m not done yet. I’ve got one more fight in me.”

“Fight who?” Tommy asked, his voice rising slightly. “You think anyone’s going to give you a shot at your age, after everything? You’ve already given more than most men ever would. What do you have left to prove?”

Jace turned away, his hands forming fists once again. He didn’t answer. What did he have left to prove? To himself? To the world that had forgotten him?

Tommy stepped closer, his voice softening. “I know you, Jace. You’re afraid of what happens when you walk away. But this, kid, this ain’t the way to go. You’ve got to find something else to live for.”

Jace shook his head, unwilling to hear the words. “Boxing’s all I’ve got, Tommy. You know that.”

“It’s not,” Tommy insisted. “It never was. You’ve just convinced yourself it’s the only thing you’re good at.”

Jace finally looked at him, eyes burning with frustration and desperation. “Then tell me what else I’ve got, because I can’t see it.”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looked at Jace with a sadness that cut deeper than any punch ever could.

“You’ve got a life to live, Jace. A real one, outside of this ring. But you’ve got to let go first.”

---

### **Part 2: The Offer**

Jace couldn’t sleep that night. Tommy’s words rattled around in his head like an unwelcome intruder. Let go? How could he let go when boxing was the only thing keeping him afloat? He knew Tommy meant well, but Jace wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

The next morning, he dragged himself out of bed and back to the gym. The moment he walked in, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He almost didn’t check it, but something made him glance at the screen. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but the name that flashed on the screen sent a chill down his spine.

**Jake Fallon.**

Jake was a promoter. Not just any promoter, but the kind who brokered the kinds of fights that weren’t exactly sanctioned. He dealt in underground boxing, where the rules were murky, and the fights were brutal. Jace had heard his name before, back when he was at the top, but he had never been desperate enough to consider it. Until now.

Jace stared at the phone, his heart pounding. What did Jake want with him? He hadn’t been in the game for a while now, and his last few fights had been anything but impressive. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he answered.

“Carter,” Jake’s voice came through the line, smooth but with an edge. “Long time.”

“Yeah,” Jace replied cautiously. “What’s this about?”

“I’ve got an offer for you,” Jake said. “I know you’ve been out of the game for a while, but I’ve got something that might interest you. Big money, high stakes.”

Jace’s throat tightened. He knew the kind of fights Jake was talking about. Dangerous. The kind where you could end up seriously hurt—or worse. But the allure of the money, of the chance to prove himself again, tugged at him.

“I’m listening,” Jace said.



To Be Continued…