Ojalá
FOR: @amaroadriana EVENT: Fight Club 2025 WHERE: The Underground | During Fights
Óscar leaned against a wall at the far side of the ring, muffling out the noise bleeding from the crowd as best as he could as he observed each fighter's strengths and weaknesses. Fights came and went like the tide—quick, dirty, some more bark than bite—but his focus wasn’t on the bodies flying or the blood soaking into the mats.
Not really. It was on the flash of blue moving through the crowd like they owned it—or maybe like she could, if she ever cared to try. Adriana Amaro.
He hadn’t seen her in, who knew how long, since entering London. Too long, in his opinion. Óscar exhaled through his nose, rolling his jaw as he watched her weave toward the edge of the ring, eyes cast somewhere else—until they weren’t.
Until they found his.
The bodyguard lifted one brow, slow and deliberate, before speaking like he hadn’t been watching her for the last ten seconds. Óscar moved through the crowd with the same calm presence he carried everywhere, shoulder brushing the occasional stranger, but no one dared try to stop him. He stopped beside her without a word at first, just let the roar of the crowd and the rhythmic pulse of the fight in the cage fill the silence between them. Then, low—almost casual:
"Tell me, Adri, who’s on your list tonight? Or are you just waiting to see which one of us breaks something first?"
