Odessa’s POV
This town was painfully quiet; I was coming from the city, so I wasn’t used to silence.
Back home, there had always been something, either my mum blending her organic smoothies or the distant blare of car horns.
The loudest thing I heard this morning was a bird arguing with another bird outside my bedroom window.
I sighed as I kicked a small pebble along the sidewalk.
“I officially miss civilization.”
The pebble bounced off a curb and rolled into a flowerbed, and a little girl watering roses looked at me.
I smiled awkwardly, and she smiled back, then continued watering her flowers as though strangers talking to themselves were perfectly normal here.
I’d spent the entire morning unpacking boxes while Dean left for work and Havana went grocery shopping.
They had both insisted I stay home and rest.
I’d lasted exactly forty-seven minutes.
Now I wandered aimlessly through town with my headphones hanging loosely around my neck and my hands tucked into the pockets of my oversized cream hoodie.
Maybe if I kept walking, I’d eventually stop thinking about my family and my friends who’d stopped answering my calls overnight.
The cool afternoon breeze brushed strands of my pink hair across my face.
I tucked them behind my ear and glanced around.
A loud engine roared somewhere ahead.
I looked up just in time to see three motorcycles speed past me.
They were all black and looked expensive.
The riders wore leather jackets with a silver crest stitched across the back.
One of them slowed down beside a traffic light.
I caught a glimpse of the emblem before the light changed.
It was a black shield with a snake coiled around a crown.
Curiosity prickled at the back of my mind as they disappeared toward the other part of town.
I kept following them without realizing it.
Soon, the cute little cafés disappeared and the flower shops became repair garages.
The farther I walked, the quieter everything became, and I frowned.
“I don’t think Dean mentioned this part of town.”
A passing elderly man gave me a puzzled look before continuing on his way.
Okay.
Maybe I should turn back.
I reached for my phone to check the map, and there was no signal.
“Seriously?” I said and sighed in frustration.
I was officially lost.
I let out a long sigh before choosing a random street and continuing forward.
Five minutes later, I heard noises.
I slowed my steps and looked up.
Men in expensive suits walked toward an abandoned industrial district carrying thick envelopes.
Luxury cars lined the cracked road.
A bright red sports car pulled into an empty parking space beside a rusted warehouse.
A man wearing a designer watch climbed out, and another man greeted him with a grin.
“You made it,” he said.
“I wouldn’t miss Rune’s fight,” the other man said.
My footsteps faltered.
Rune?
Who is that?
The second man laughed.
“They’re saying tonight’s opponent is twice his size.”
“So?”
“So if anyone can finally beat him…” He shrugged.
“…it’s this guy.”
The two men disappeared through a steel door built into the side of the warehouse.
I blinked.
What fight were they talking about, and who were all these people?
Maybe I should go in and check.
“Oh, come on, Odessa,” I spoke to myself.
“You’ve watched enough crime dramas to know this is a terrible idea.”
I should leave right now; instead, I crossed the street, and the closer I got, the louder it got.
I heard cheers and someone yelling into a microphone.
There really was something happening inside.
A massive man stood outside the entrance wearing an earpiece and a black suit.
Definitely security.
As the next group approached, he checked each of their black wristbands before allowing them through.
I turned around and stopped.
A young waitress hurried toward the entrance carrying a tray stacked with glasses.
One of the black wristbands slipped from her pocket and fluttered onto the ground behind her.
She didn’t notice, and I looked around; neither did anyone else.
I stared at it.
“She’s probably got extras,” I muttered, trying to convince myself.
My heart pounded in my chest; this was insane.
If Dean found out, he’d kill me.
I took one cautious step, then another.
I bent down as though I was tying my shoelace, and I grabbed the black wristband.
Before I could lose my nerve, I slipped it onto my wrist and pulled my hoodie sleeve over it.
“Deep breaths,” I whispered.
“You are simply…” I swallowed.
“A completely innocent person making a series of incredibly questionable decisions.”
With what little confidence I had left, I walked toward the entrance.
The security guard stepped in front of me.
His eyes swept over my face, then my hoodie, then my wrist.
He simply stared at it, and then he stepped aside.
“Enjoy the show,” he said.
I blinked.
“Thank you.”
Trying not to look suspicious, I walked through the heavy steel door.
Thousands of voices crashed together beneath the warehouse, almost shaking the concrete beneath my feet.
My eyes widened.
“Whoa…”
A narrow staircase stretched downward, illuminated by dim amber lights embedded into the walls.
With every step I took, the cheering grew louder.
The scent of smoke and expensive cologne mixed with sweat and alcohol drifted upward.
This wasn’t some local boxing club, it was massive.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and froze.
It was an underground arena.
Tier after tier of seats circled a large steel cage in the center.
Bright spotlights cut through the darkness overhead, while giant screens hung from the ceiling, replaying brutal knockouts from previous fights.
People filled every seat: businessmen in tailored suits and even college students barely older than me.
Tattooed bikers and women dressed in glamorous evening gowns.
Even older couples sat calmly sipping champagne as though this were an opera instead of an illegal fighting ring.
Waitresses hurried between rows carrying trays overflowing with drinks.
Men shouted betting odds across the arena.
A huge digital board flashed numbers.
TONIGHT’S MAIN EVENT
RUNE
VS
THE TITAN
My stomach tightened; this couldn’t possibly be legal.
Could it?
I instinctively reached for my phone, then a loud voice boomed through hidden speakers.
“Place your final bets!”
The audience erupted in cheers.
“I’ve got five grand on Rune!”
“You’re wasting your money!”
“The Titan’s ending his streak tonight!”
“You’ve clearly never seen Rune fight.”
“Excuse me.” I turned as a middle-aged man squeezed past me carrying two cups of beer.
“Sorry.”
He barely heard me.
I decided standing in the middle of the walkway probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
Near the back of the arena, I spotted an empty seat tucked beside a thick concrete pillar.
Perfect.
I slipped into it, and from there, I could see almost the entire arena without drawing attention to myself.
Dark stains covered the canvas floor.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me what they were; it was blood.
A shiver crept down my spine.
I should leave right now.
Dean would probably have a heart attack if he knew where I was.
Instead, I stayed.
The lights suddenly dimmed, and darkness swallowed the entire arena.
A single spotlight illuminated the center of the cage.
The announcer stepped inside, dressed in a sharp crimson suit that somehow made him look more like a game show host than someone introducing violence.
“Ladies…” He paused dramatically.
“And gentlemen!”
The audience answered with thunderous applause.
“Welcome back.” His grin widened.
“to another unforgettable night hosted by the Black Crest Syndicate!”
“Our next fight,” the announcer spread his arms, “features the one man whose name alone fills this arena.”
People were already rising to their feet, and anticipation buzzed through the crowd like electricity.
The announcer laughed.
“Oh, I see you’ve been waiting.”
A smile tugged at his lips.
“Then let’s not keep you waiting any longer.”
He raised the microphone.
“Please welcome—”
The lights around the entrance tunnel flickered to life.
The crowd began chanting before he even finished speaking.
“RUNE!”
“RUNE!”
“RUNE!”
“RUNE!”
The sound rolled through the arena like thunder.
Who was this guy?
The chanting only grew louder, and people pounded on the railings.
Others waved betting slips high above their heads.
A woman near the front actually burst into tears from excitement.
Seriously?
Over a fighter?
The announcer pointed toward the tunnel.
“Give it up for the undefeated king of the underground!”
The heavy steel doors slowly opened, and I held my breath.
One pair of boots stepped into the light, then another.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows, and everything about him was black.
Black combat boots, black cargo pants, black compression shirt that hugged a broad, muscular frame.
Black fingerless gloves.
A matte-black mask concealed the upper half of his face.
Only his mouth and sharp jawline remained visible, but what caught my attention wasn’t the mask.
It was his hair; it was a striking shade of ginger-orange, not too bright, but just enough to catch the spotlight like flickering fire.
His forearms were wrapped in black tape, leaving intricate tattoos curling over both arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.
The crowd screamed his name.
He walked through the arena as though no one else existed.
Across the cage, another man entered to a scattering of applause; he was enormous.
At least six foot five, built like a truck, his shaved head glistening beneath the lights.
He cracked his neck and glared at the masked fighter.
The announcer’s voice echoed once more.
“In the blue corner,” he pointed dramatically toward the giant, “THE TITAN!”
Then he turned toward the masked fighter.
“And in the red corner—” The arena erupted before he could even finish.
“RUNE!”
“RUNE!”
“RUNE!”
The steel cage seemed to vibrate with the force of their voices.
The referee stepped between them and the bell rang.
And for reasons I couldn’t understand, I forgot how to breathe.