He huffs a quiet laugh, but I don’t wait for a response. Crowds aren’t his thing—never have been. He’s always been more of a shadow-in-the-corner type unless he’s fighting or flirting. I take advantage of the chaos and start weaving my way through the sea of bodies, zeroing in on the flash of violet hair like a wolf stalking prey.
But she’s fast.
Too fast.
By the time I make it halfway through the pit, she’s already vanished, swallowed whole by the press of people and the pounding bass. I curse under my breath, sweeping my gaze across the floor, scanning for a glimpse—anything.
A second later, I realize I’m not the only one looking.
Rowen and Emerson flank me, both of them slightly out of breath, eyes darting over the crowd like predators locked on the same target. Their expressions match mine—frustration with a splash of intrigue. There was something about her, something familiar and sharp that cut through all the noise.
“Damn,” Rowen mutters again, dragging a hand through his hair when it becomes clear she’s long gone. His voice loses that predatory edge, slipping into something more casual. “Hanging a left to find another bunny for the night.”
Typical.
Before I can reply, he’s already strutting off toward the bar, where a small herd of women start flocking to him like he’s holding auditions. I watch for a second, shaking my head, but my eyes drift back toward the path that mystery girl took.
She moved like she knew the layout. Like she belonged in the shadows. And somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen her before.
Emerson and I trail Rowen through the crowd, keeping low-key as we move past the crush of bodies pressed into the bar.This place always reeks of sweat, alcohol, and desperation, but tonight there’s something else in the air—something sharper. Like a charge lingering just beneath the surface, waiting to snap.
We order a couple of drinks and hang near the wall, nursing the silence between us. It’s not awkward. We’ve grown used to avoiding genuine conversation, especially when it comes to the things that matter most. The ghosts between us are louder than any small talk could ever be.
Eventually, Craig signals it’s time. I down the last of my drink, and we make our way toward the ring. The closer I get, the more my chest tightens, like a pressure building in my ribs. I brush it off as pre-fight adrenaline, but it feels… off. Different.
Once the corner clears, I climb into the ring and start warming up, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet. Rolling my shoulders. Stretching out the tension. But the moment my boots hit the mat, my skin prickles with electricity. It starts at the base of my neck and spiders across my shoulders, racing down my arms until the fine hair there lifts on end.
It’s like being watched. Not in the typical crowd-of-strangers way. This is intimate. Specific.
Targeted.
I pause mid-stretch, my eyes scanning the crowd. It’s a wall of faces. Screaming. Drunk. Hyped. But none of them holds my attention for long.
And yet… something keeps me searching.
I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just that I’ll know it when I see it.
That hum under my skin won’t let up. My instincts are flaring—louder than they should be for a simple fight. Something about tonight feels familiar. Like a whisper from a dream I can’t quite remember, wrapping around my spine and pulling tight. It’s ridiculous, but the sensation—the pull—is there.
I blink, trying to push the sense away, but my chest throbs with that buried ache that never really left. The last time I felt like this was years ago, back when Berk was still around. Back when we thought we had all the time in the world.
She’s not here. I know that.
Still… I can’t shake the feeling.
Across the ring, Rowen’s leaning on the ropes, but his gaze is distant, stuck in some memory he won’t talk about. Emerson’s no better. His eyes usually sweep the crowd like a sniper, but tonight they’re unfocused, drifting. He’s not watching for threats—he’s lost in thought.
And I get it. Because I’m unraveling too.
We haven’t spoken her name in years. We buried her right alongside the truth—swallowed our doubts, choked down the lies. But the silence didn’t kill the questions. Didn’t erase the look in her eyes the last time we saw her. Didn’t stop that fucked-up text I got the night she vanished from clawing at me when I sleep. It didn’t read like someone who was running. It read like someone begging to be found.
And now, here I am—back in this pit, fists clenched, heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the guy I’m supposed to fight.
Because someone’s watching me.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel alone in the dark.
The announcer’s guttural shout ofGorips through the air like a starting pistol—and with it, the beast that’s always crouched beneath my skin unfurls. It doesn’t take a breath before lunging forward, hungry. It’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to tear something apart. The only thing that ever soothed it was her—Berkley’s softness, her laugh, the way she anchored us without even trying.