His head jerks toward me, jaw tight, teeth grinding. “I can’t just stand here.”
I hold his gaze. “You don’t have a choice.” My hand brushes his wrist, grounding him the same way he did for me minutes ago. “Not yet.”
For a beat, he stays locked, fury carved into every line of him. For a split second my mind drifts to Amber and it clicks in place. And in that moment I see the guilt he carries, the way this girl in the cage isn’t just another fighter to him. This is personal.
The juiced woman swings again, hammering Alicia back into the ropes. The crowd explodes. Dante’s breath rips out of him like it’s costing him to hold still.
Alicia tries one last time to push forward, her arms trembling, but her body betrays her. Her knees give, her body jerks, seizing hard on the mat.
The crowd howls louder, drunk on the violence. Dante stiffens at my side. His hands curl into fists, his chest heaving like he’s about to tear the cage down with his bare hands.
I grab his wrist, “Not yet.”
Rage rolls off him, hot enough I can feel it. His head whips toward me, eyes burning through the mask. “She’s dying in there.”
“I know.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean, because I do know. I’ve been that girl, broken, made into sport. It’s why Ifight like I do. And it’s why I can’t let him throw himself into that pit alone.
Alicia collapses again, twitching against the mat. The ref just circles her, like she’s nothing more than dead weight waiting to be dragged out. Then the bell clangs and one of Serrano’s men moves in from the corner, a keycard flashing at the lock. The cage door groans open.
That’s all I need. I make the call.
“We do this together.” Dante doesn’t argue, he just gives one brutal nod, fury carved into every line of him.
“Now,” I bite out. Dante surges forward. I move with him.
He surges for the opening, every muscle taut with rage, and I’m right on his heels. The guard barely has time to register us before Dante drives a fist into his jaw, the crack loud enough to split through the crowd’s roar. The man drops, the keycard still in his hand. I yank it from his fingers and we’re inside before the cage door slams shut behind us.
The crowd erupts around us. Some cheering like this is part of the show, others realizing it isn’t. A stampede thunders across the floor, money and masks clutched tight as the velvet booths empty toward the exits.
Serrano’s men close in, guns raised, and I don’t think. I move. My elbow snaps into a masked jaw, my boot slams a knee sideways, and I feel cartilage crack under my knuckles as I swing again.
Alicia’s on her knees in the corner, spasms still twitching through her body. Then, like a string snapping, she gasps sharp and sucks in air. Her pupils are blown, sweat plastering her hair to her face, arms trembling as she tries to push herself up.
Dante’s there, crouched low, his hand cupping the back of her neck.
“Stay with me, kid,” he growls, voice so raw it makes my chest ache.
She staggers upright, her weight dragging him sideways. I’m there instantly, my arm locking under hers, hauling her weight with him. We manage three stumbling steps before her legs give, dead weight collapsing on themselves.
“Fuck this,” Dante snarls, and in one motion he scoops her up, her body limp against his chest. His arms flex, the muscles in his forearms corded with strain but steady as steel. Alicia’s head lolls against his shoulder, eyes fluttering.
I plant myself in front of them, fists raised carving space. Every bastard in our path is mine. My elbow smashes into a masked jaw, teeth spraying red under the lights. A rib caves under my fist with a crunch that vibrates through my bones. I hook my foot behind his knee and it folds sideways, the scream lost in the crowd’s roar. Another comes at me from the left. I fist his collar, hammer his skull into the bars. The metal rings, blood freckles hot across my cheek.
Dante adjusts Alicia higher, his arm brushes my spine as he moves closer. Even drowning in chaos, that heat sears my skin.
The cage is a storm now. Serrano’s guards pouring in, bodies dropping one by one. My lungs burn, metallic blood spreading across my tongue. But Dante’s steady at my back, Alicia tight in his arms, and I’m clearing the path like hell itself.
The cage door’s still swinging when we blow through it. Behind me, I hear Dante’s grunt of effort, the strain of holding Alicia and still pushing forward. The sound digs into me, sharp and dangerous, because I know if he drops her, she dies here. And if I fall, so do both of them.
It lights something hot and ugly in me. If Serrano thinks he’s turning kids into corpses for sport, then I’ll be the one leaving his men in pieces.
Another guard steps in, gun raised. I slam forward, knock his arm high, and drive my knee into his gut. His shot cracks intothe ceiling, sparks raining down. I pivot, smash my elbow into his temple, and he drops boneless at my feet.
“Move!” I bark, my blood hot in my throat as I carve the space open.
Dante surges into the gap with me. Every time I pivot, his heat sears my back. His weight, his breath, his fury branding down my spine. It’s a pull I can’t shake, even in the storm.
Dante’s snarl cuts through the din. “Keep your eyes forward. I’ve got her.”
