Ghost In The Pack

Elena’s POV

We were at ringside waiting as the crowd was so loud you could barely hear anything.

“Tonight’s main event! Hugo ‘The Ripper’ Warner versus Elena Morison!” The announcer’s voice boomed through Ringside, drawing whistles, cheers, and more than a few drunken catcalls from the packed underground arena.

The place pulsed with energy. Money exchanged hands at the betting tables while bartenders slid drinks across polished counters as fast as they could pour them. Cigarette smoke lingered beneath the industrial ventilation, and bright lights illuminated the ring while the rest of the club remained wrapped in shadow.

It was loud. It was chaotic. It was home.

“Girl, you got this.” Lyra bumped my shoulder as I bent over to stretch my hamstrings. “He ain’t shit. Just another muscle-bound jackass. All muscles and no brains.”

A grin spread across my face. “You always know exactly what to say.”

“I know.” She flashed a cocky smile before folding her arms. “You’re welcome.”

I rolled my shoulders, loosening every tight muscle. Fighting stiff was a good way to wake up staring at the ceiling.

“Hey, sweet ass!” some idiot shouted from the crowd. “Why don’t you come over here and bend over for your Daddy?”

I slowly looked over my shoulder. Yep. Exactly what I expected. Beer in one hand. Three teeth missing. The kind of guy who probably thought body spray counted as personal hygiene.

I rolled my eyes. That right there was exactly why Lyra kept collecting assault charges. She started toward him before I caught her wrist.

“Don’t,” I grabbed her arm and said through clenched teeth.

“He asked for it,” she grumbled, glaring at him.

“He absolutely did,” I admitted. “But he isn’t worth another night in county.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re no fun.”

“I literally watched you headbutt a guy because he called you sweetheart,” I reminded her.

“He deserved it,” she shrugged her shoulders once.

“I never said he didn’t.” A laugh escaped me before I leaned closer. “Besides, that stupid fucker wouldn’t know what to do if I actually backed my ass all up on him.”

Lyra snorted so hard she doubled over. “There she is.”

The announcer stepped into the center of the ring. “Fighters! To the ring!”

Across the arena, Hugo was already climbing through the ropes. Holy hell… The man looked like he had been carved out of concrete. He stood well over six feet, with shoulders wide enough to block the lights behind him. His arms were thicker than both my thighs put together. I happened to like my thighs. Years of training had built solid muscle throughout my body, but standing across from him made me look downright tiny.

His shaved head reflected the lights while icy blue eyes settled on me. Damn. Those eyes could pull a person in if they weren’t careful.

“Get it together, Elena,” I muttered beneath my breath.

The crowd didn’t care how big you were. They cared who walked away.

“Look, Boss!” someone from Hugo’s corner shouted. “She can’t even climb into the ring!” Laughter rolled through the arena. “What the hell is this little kitten doing in the lion’s den?”

Lyra took one determined step. I caught the back of her hoodie. “Hush.”

“They’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes.

“They’re trying to get in my head.” I shrugged. “If that’s the best they’ve got, I almost feel bad for them.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I could still knock his ass out.”

“I know you could.” I laughed. “Save it for someone who deserves the medical bills.”

She folded her arms with an exaggerated huff. “They’re lucky you’re cute.”

I stepped toward the ropes, pressed the middle one down with my foot, and slipped into the ring.

“Damn,” the same loudmouth hollered again. “She’s adorable! Can I take her home, Boss?”

Seriously… Did this guy ever shut the hell up? I knew exactly what everyone saw. Five-foot-two. Long brown hair. Hazel eyes. Barely a hundred and ten pounds. Cute and tiny. They think I’m harmless. That assumption had paid my bills more times than I could count. People underestimated me before every fight. They regretted it before every fight ended.

“Boss!” he yelled again. “Don’t hurt the kitten. She’s way too pretty.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Can somebody muzzle him?”

Hugo barked out a laugh. “I’ve been trying for years.”

Even I laughed. At least his own guy annoyed him too. The announcer stepped between us. “Fighters… ready.”

The bell rang. Neither of us moved. We circled slowly, studying each other. Hugo watched me carefully, looking for nerves. He wasn’t going to find any.

Without warning, he exploded forward. One massive step. His fist came flying toward my face with enough force to knock someone’s lights out.

I leaned back just enough for it to whistle past my nose. His momentum carried him forward. He recovered quicker than I expected. An uppercut came next. I dropped low, planted one hand against the canvas, and swept both of his legs out from under him. His eyes widened. A heartbeat later… He crashed flat onto his back. The crowd erupted. I was already standing before he could recover.

“Damn you, little bitch!” Hugo growled, climbing back to his feet.

“There you are.” I smiled. “I was beginning to think you didn’t know how to talk.”

He charged again. This time, he committed everything to a right hook. I slipped outside the punch, planted my foot, and spun. My heel connected squarely with his cheek. The crack echoed through the arena. His balance faltered. I wasted no time.

Dropping low again, I planted both palms on the mat and whipped my legs around, sweeping his feet right out from under him for the second time. He hit the canvas hard enough to shake the ropes. Before he could react, I launched myself onto his shoulders, swung my legs around his neck, and locked in the choke.

His hands clawed at my arms, trying to break my grip. Not happening. I’d drilled this hold thousands of times. Elbow after elbow slammed into my ribs until every breath burned. By the fourth hit, I was almost certain something had cracked, but I refused to let go.

Come on… Tap.

His movements slowed. His breathing became ragged. A second later… His hand slapped the mat. Once. Twice. Three times.

I released him immediately and rolled backward onto my feet. The announcer grabbed my wrist. “Ladies and gentlemen… your winner… by submission… ELENA MORISON!”

The arena exploded. Hugo sat up rubbing his neck before looking at me with a crooked grin. “Damn, Spider Monkey.” He climbed to his feet and extended his hand. “Hell of a fight.”

I shook his hand. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed. “I ain’t ever letting anybody call you little again.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I said with a wink.

He chuckled before heading back toward his corner, still rubbing his neck.

Spider Monkey. Yeah… That nickname was definitely going to stick.