I crack my neck and roll my shoulders. The text from Viviana is a hot coal behind my ribs; my blood is pumping fast. I raise my hands and bait him. He comes at me like a bull. The first hit lands on my ribs, and the pain burns like a brand. I taste copper and grin.
The ring floor is slick, sweat and blood stamped into the concrete. The crowd closes in, pressing heat and stink, but all I see is him. Wide chest, thick arms, a fucking tree trunk with fists.
He lunges, swinging for my jaw. I duck low, ribs still burning from the first hit, and drive my fist into his gut. The sound is wet, the breath knocked out of him in a grunt. He swings again; knuckles scrape my cheek, the sting sharp, the taste of copper on my tongue.
Good. I need that taste.
I slam my shoulder into his chest, shove him back against the ropes. The crowd howls. My blood surges, pulse hammering in my ears. He claws for me, grabs my arm, but I twist free and bury my fist into his face. Cartilage crunches. Blood sprays warm across my knuckles.
And for one second—just one—Autumn’s face flashes in my head. Bent over her laptop, glasses sliding down her nose, oblivious. Innocent. The kind of girl who should never be in a place like this. The kind of girl who should never be anywhere near me.
My grip tightens. I hit harder. Again. Again.
The man staggers, his nose split, mouth leaking red. He charges, wild, no technique left. I let him come. My fist meets his jaw with a crack that echoes through the pit. He drops.
The crowd roars. My chest heaves, sweat slick on my skin. My knuckles throb, split and raw, but it feels clean.
I spit blood onto the floor and look down at him, twitching on the ground. One more punch and I could end it. I almost do.
Instead, I lift my head, jaw tight, and breathe through the ache. I can’t shake her. Autumn. She’s in my veins now, and that thought is more dangerous than any fight.
My breathing is still ragged when the ref signals it’s over. The crowd is already shifting, cash sliding from hand to hand, booze sloshing. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand; blood streaks across my knuckles. It isn’t mine. Not all of it.
Kaden pushes through the bodies, cigar still clamped between his teeth, grinning like a bastard.
“You got what you wanted?” His voice is rough with smoke.
I flex my jaw; it aches where the punch landed. “For now.”
He studies me, eyes narrowing. “You’re wound tighter than normal, boss. Usually a fight knocks it out of you.”
I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck. The ache feels good, but the coil in my chest is still there. Still her. Autumn. Freckles, lips pressed together in concentration. She shouldn’t be in my head, not here, not now.
Kaden’s grin shifts. He sees it. He always sees it. “What is it then? You want to fight more, or you want to fuck?”
The crowd noise fades under the weight of the question. My fists clench, blood sticky between my fingers. I should say fight. That’s always the answer. But the image of her won’t leave.
I snarl and shoulder past him, heading for the exit. “Neither.”
Kaden laughs behind me, too loud, too sure. “Then you’re fucked, boss.”
He’s right.
Chapter Two
Autumn
Ireally need to organise this desk. I keep saying it every day, but I still don’t have the time or courage. Notebooks, sticky notes, pens, and pictures are everywhere. My apartment is tidy, everything in its place, except this damn desk that looks like a storm hit it.
It’s raining outside, cloudy and cold, perfect for tea and editing. Most people chase beaches and sun, but rain makes me happy. Mountains, mist, storms—those are mine. I wrap my hands around the mug and breathe in the warmth.
I’ve been here six months. Before that, a cheap motel for three, waiting for work to pick up. Weddings, baptisms, baby showers, small jobs, but they paid enough for this rented apartment. Not the fanciest part of the city, but cosy.
I glance at the lock on my door, the habit too hard to break, then shake my head. He hasn’t found me here yet, not during the six months I’ve lived here.
The computer dings with an email from Viviana Callaghan. We met when she needed pictures for a client’s website, fancy but inviting. She found me online, liked my work and offered me a spot as her associate. The Callaghans are well connected and old money, and I was thrilled. They’vebeen kind and welcoming. Viviana especially. She’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve made in this city.
Viviana replied to my email with the new shots for the hotel she’s been working with; the owner loved them. Great, one less stress. I love what I do, but I still get anxious until I get some feedback. Now I need to get ready for the next photoshoot.
