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Molly blushes and glances away. “Thank you.”
“Thanks.” I nod at her and lead Molly down the long hallway.
Another woman meets us side stage out of view of the audience. “We moved Kiki to the opposite end of the stage,” she says.
“You better keep her the fuck away from us,” I warn.
“I don’t think you have to worry about it.” The woman cracks a smile. “She’ll think twice about coming at Molly now.” She pats Molly’s shoulder and gives her a quick nod of approval.
Molly shrugs and ducks her head as if it was nothing. Only I know how much the burst of violence bothers her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her ear. “Obviously, they’re not going to stop fights from breaking out. I’ll be watching better this time,” I promise.
I’m still furious with myself for letting anyone get that close to her.
“Okay, go ahead,” the woman tells us.
I keep Molly on my left, shielding her from both the audience and everyone on stage.
The audience claps once they see me. But when Molly peeks around my body and they get a glimpse of her, they absolutely lose their shit. The lights fan out over the crowd, so we can actually see them. Women stand up, whistling and clapping. A few people chant her name. Molly lifts her hand in a quick, shy wave.
We return to our seats on the couch. This time, I keep a bit of space between us in case I need to launch myself into the air and pummel someone. Molly seems to understand my intention and flashes a quick smile at me. I reach over and slide my hand over hers, keeping that connection.
“Everyone have cooler heads now?” Matt asks.
I glare at him. “You tell me.”
He clears his throat and focuses on Molly. “That’s some right hook you’ve got, Molly. Is Stonewall responsible for teaching you that?”
“I have a big brother who’s always taught me not to take shit from anyone.”
“Fuck yeah!” Woolly shouts.
“That’s a fighter’s girl!” Pirate yells.
Laughter echoes through the studio.
Finally, Matt turns his attention to some of the other guys.
“Venom, you seemed to take on a mentor or big brother role to Griff and Woolly. How did it feel to have the student surpass the master?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“I’m proud of my teammates.” Venom keeps his answers short. “They did good.”
Frustrated, Matt prowls around the stage, pestering the other guys with questions. I tune them out and focus on Molly. She seems calm now—her breathing’s normal, posture relaxed. But her eyes keep nervously darting around like she’s expecting another attack. Every now and then she flicks her gaze toward Matt and whoever he’s badgering. A faint smile or a short laugh ghosts her lips but otherwise I don’t even think she’s listening.
After Matt’s spoken to all of the contestants at least once, he stops in front of Naptime.
“All those weeks and you came out the victor. How did that feel?”
Naptime opens his mouth to answer—something obnoxious, probably—but the audience boos him into silence.
Shit, that’s embarrassing.
“Wow.” Matt wipes his hand across his forehead in a corny, fake-ass move. “Our audience has strong feelings about this subject.”
“Fuck all of ya!” Naptime jumps up and throws his hands in the air. “I’ll fuck all ya up right now. Come here.” He points to someone in the audience. Could be a dad in the second row hurling insults at Naptime or the grandmother waving her middle finger at him in the front row. It’s hard to tell which person he’s challenging.
