“It’s her.”
My brother’s voice was like gravel, deep and dark and unfeeling. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t care about her, but I was suspended in time as I watched the two girls fighting in the ring. The one with the darkest black hair, piled high in a sleek ponytail, was kicking the ass of a girl—an Amazon—twice her size, bulked up and ’roided out. The girl didn’t seem fazed, as if her competition would bring her an easy win.
My heart beat wildly in my chest, both awe and admiration probably evident on my face. She was amazing.
“It’s definitely her,” Quint agreed, sniffing the air. “She’s Nephilim and she’s like a queen around here. All of the bets are in her favor. She’s still Human, and yet her strength rivals yours, Lanier.”
Lanier scoffed and looked around the room, anywhere but at the girl in the ring. The girl we finally found after so much time searching.
Her small body was packed with power as she threw punch after punch. Her leg lifted with lethal grace before she slammed it into her opponent’s stomach, causing blood to flow like a river from her mouth.
The little beauty didn’t stop until the Amazon was on her back and unconscious.
From our place against the wall on the right side of the warehouse, I couldn’t see her face, just the sensual curve of her body, the strength of her arms.
I wanted to get closer.
Something about this girl attracted me; she was haunted and dark. I could feel her anger even from across the room. A strange feeling formed in my chest, shocking me. I’d never felt drawn to a single female outside of my Annalise.
Naturally, I was curious.
Why was this girl the exception? Why did I want to snatch her up and run like hell away from the men with prying eyes and dirty thoughts?
Guilt clawed its way up my spine as I thought of Annalise. It had been a month since my last vision of her, and my life had turned to fucking hell ever since. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think of anything but the Human girl in my visions. The girl who dug herself into my mental space eleven years ago and then disappeared after all this time.
I saw her every day before the visions stopped, and never once had another woman caught my eye.
Until the dark beauty in the ring.
I walked forward, not caring that Lanier would kill me for breaking the plan. I had to get closer.
I walked one step at a time until I was close enough to see her face, the noise level of the crowd filtering through my ears. She lifted her head and looked over my shoulder, seeing right past me, but even still, I sucked in a breath. She didn’t need to look directly at me in order for me to recognize her. The lilac eyes, the plump pink lips…
“Oh my god…” I stumbled, tripping over my feet as I tried to get closer. “It can’t—”
Suddenly she hopped over the ropes and onto the cement floor of the warehouse, her small body brushing right past me as she walked to where the bookie was standing in the corner of the room, surrounded by guards.
I couldn’t breathe as I watched her go.
“It’s her…” I said out loud, my brothers moving to my side with confused expressions.
“Yes, we know,” Quint said sarcastically. “We literally just said that.”
I tore my eyes from her retreating back to look at them.
“No, it’s her,” I whispered. Turning to get one last look, knowing I couldn’t approach her here. Not yet. Not like this. “It’s Annalise.”
Hot anger blew through my veins, lighting me up from the inside. All this time, I thought she was a Human, helpless, alone, afraid. The visions never once indicated that she was anything but Human.
But sure enough, here in the flesh…
She’s Nephilim. And I had found her.
I spat a mixture of saliva and blood on the girl I’d just knocked out. Her nose was already broken, red liquid streaming down her face, so all it took was a few direct hits to the ribs, a jab or two to the face, a power packed upper cut, and she was down.
I’d officially won another fight.
The roar of the crowd was loud enough to make me want to reach up and cover my ears, but I fought the urge. It was the same every time I walked off the mats, and I never stayed for the celebratory part.
Instead, I searched the faces around the ring until I found JD’s familiar gaze. Hopping over the ringed ropes, I landed with a smack on the concrete floor and headed in his direction. He stood along the back wall of the warehouse, surrounded by tall beefy bodyguards.
JD might have looked like a nerdy blond kid, glasses and all, but he was heavily armed under his long white T-shirt and was more dangerous than any other criminal standing in this room.
“Nice hit, girl,” he said with a wicked smile as I walked past his guards. “You seem to be getting stronger with every fight.”
It wasn’t the first time he said it, but this time the statement was laced with suspicion. I knew he thought I was pumping myself with drugs to gain the strength, but he also knew not to question me, or it would be him lying on the ground like the girl still unconscious in the ring.
It was true though, what he said, much to my confusion. I’d been fighting for four years in this shady underground ring, deep in the depths of the New York City slums, and though I’d never lost a fight, I’d also never seen a change in myself or my ability to win until very recently.
My already solid punches had become more fluid and packed more power, and the few hits my opponents managed to land on me hurt less and healed faster.
Rather than question it, I just ignored it altogether and kept training as usual.
“Money, JD.” I looked up at him and held out my palm. My five-foot-two frame ensured that I pretty much always had to look up at anyone I was talking to. But those who knew me—or knew of me—were aware that my height meant nothing. I could take anyone down without even ruffling my sleek black ponytail.
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed and flipped through the wad of cash he held in his hands. “You made out good tonight, darlin’. You’ll be out of that asshole’s place in no time.”
I didn’t bother responding, and he didn’t take offense. He just put the cash in my open hand, and I bent down to pick up my black backpack that sat at his feet.
I thanked him before he stalked away, leaving me alone in his small guarded section of the warehouse. I opened the front pocket of my backpack and slid the cash down to the very bottom, covering it with my hoodie, then pulling out my phone and making sure my headphones were attached before sliding one into each ear.
Hitting play on my post-fight playlist, I was greeted by Kat Dahlia’s “Gangsta.” The melodic tune and harsh rasp of her voice always helped ground me after a fight—not to mention the relatable lyrics of the song. I didn’t have parents like she did, but her attitude matched mine perfectly: angry, raw, crass.
Pushing past the guards, I fought my way through the thick crowd that blocked the exit. I kept my head down but used my strength to knock a few people out of the way, signaling my wish to leave. One by one, they split down the middle, allowing me access to the door.
I never looked up, didn’t care to. I didn’t want the congratulations, nor did I want the slaps on the back or the creepy stares from the Mafia guys that always foamed at the mouth as they watched me fight.