MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon sat with a slight frown on his face.

He glanced at his watch again.

It had been close to thirty minutes since Svetlana left for the restroom.

Too long.

He stayed seated at first, fingers drumming lightly against the side of his glass. His jaw was set, and his eyes kept shifting toward the direction she had gone.

She wasn't the type to leave without saying something. She wasn't the type to disappear.

And that's what had him confused.

Worried, even.

This wasn't like her.

He sat there another minute, weighing his thoughts. Trying to be logical about it. Maybe she got caught up in something.

Maybe there was a delay in the bathroom.

But it didn't sit right.

Damon pushed his chair back slowly, standing up.

He smoothed his shirt out with one hand out of habit, the other brushing his pocket, feeling the small box still there.

He left the table, walking toward the restrooms, his focus sharp now.

Something wasn't adding up.

He paused halfway across the terrace, realizing he couldn't just walk into the women's restroom. He stood there for a moment, thinking, then glanced around until he caught the attention of one of the staff.

It was a female waiter, carrying a tray back toward the dining area. He stepped toward her, raising a hand slightly to get her attention. She stopped when she noticed him, giving him a polite, questioning look.

"Excuse me," Damon said, his tone steady but direct. "I need some help. My partner went into the restroom about twenty minutes ago. She hasn't come back yet. I might be making something out of nothing… but can you check for me?"

The woman blinked, as if surprised by the request, then studied him for a moment. There was a hesitation, but then she gave a small nod.

"Of course, signore. One moment."

She turned and walked calmly toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. Damon stayed where he was, watching her go, his jaw tight.

He exhaled through his nose and glanced around the terrace again. Everything still looked normal. People were eating, drinking, talking. No one else seemed concerned.

But he was.

The minutes dragged, but Damon didn't move from his spot. His eyes stayed fixed on the hallway where the staff member had gone. His hands were steady, but he could feel his pulse climbing in his neck.

A couple of minutes passed before the woman reappeared. She wasn't calm anymore.

She hurried toward him, her expression changed. Serious, focused.

"Signore," she said quickly. "Your partner… she is on the floor. She's fainted."

For a second, Damon didn't move.

Then he was walking past her without thinking.

But she reached out and stopped him, one hand to his chest, firm but respectful. "Please, we are calling the medic. She is not alone."

Two other staff members were already moving—one heading toward the front desk, the other to an internal phone. There was no shouting, no panic.

They were efficient, quiet, and professional, but Damon could see the tension in their faces.

They took it seriously.

This wasn't a scene.

It was controlled, but urgent.

"Can I see her?" Damon asked, his voice low but sharp.

The woman gave a nod and gestured for him to follow.

"This way. But stay calm, please."

He followed her down the hall, past the restrooms. Another staff member was standing by the door, and inside, Svetlana was lying on her side on the tile floor.

One of the cleaning staff was already with her, kneeling close, keeping her head supported with a folded towel under it. She was breathing, but her skin looked pale.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow but steady.

Damon dropped to one knee beside her immediately.

"Lana," he said quietly.

No answer, but her chest rose and fell evenly.

"She has pulse, signore," the woman said. "And she is breathing. We have someone coming now."

Damon nodded, but he didn't move from her side.

He brushed a hand gently over her forehead, feeling the faint dampness on her skin.

This wasn't a cut, a bruise, something he knew how to fix.

He hated feeling helpless.

Minutes later, another staff member appeared with a small medical kit and an AED unit. A man in a polo shirt with the hotel's insignia stepped in behind him

.

"I am trained medic, signore," the man said. "Please… give us space."

Damon hesitated, then shifted back just enough to let them work, his jaw tight as he watched every move they made.

He stood there, watching them check her vitals, speaking quietly to each other in Italian. One of them checked her pulse again, another gently lifted her wrist, watching for a response. Damon didn't hear most of it. His focus was fixed on Svetlana.

And he was scared.

This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

It was supposed to be simple. Perfect, even.

Dinner. A proposal. A moment they'd both remember for the rest of their lives.

Not this. Not lying on the floor of a bathroom while strangers tried to figure out what was wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as his mind raced.

What happened?

She'd been fine a minute ago. Laughing at dinner. Smiling.

And as much as he tried to stay calm, he couldn't stop the weight settling in his chest.

He blamed himself.

He didn't even have a reason why.

But in his head, it came back to him.

Maybe he pushed too hard.

Maybe he missed something.

Maybe he should have noticed earlier.

He stayed quiet, standing there, watching.

Hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Waiting for someone to tell him what was wrong.

Waiting for her to open her eyes.

The faint sound of sirens cut through the quiet of the evening.

A few moments later, an ambulance came to a stop just outside the hotel's entrance.

Even if it may have been just fainting, as the staff quietly suggested, it wasn't worth the risk. Everyone agreed on that. Better to act fast than wait.

They moved carefully but quickly.

The medic and staff lifted Svetlana onto a stretcher, keeping her stable as they wheeled her through the hotel.

Damon followed right behind, silent, his face tight.

No one tried to stop him.

By now, anyone who saw him understood he wasn't about to be left behind.

When they reached the ambulance, they opened the back doors and lifted her inside.

Damon didn't hesitate.

He climbed in right after her, settling onto the small bench seat along the side.

The EMT gave him a quick look but didn't say anything.

Damon's elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together tightly.

He kept his eyes on her the entire time as they checked her vitals again, placing a mask over her face for oxygen.

Her breathing was steady, but she hadn't woken up yet.

Anyone looking at him in that moment would've seen it.

The fear in his eyes was impossible to miss.