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CHAPTER FIVE : NICE KICK

Penulis: Marycynthia posh
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-07-29 15:50:48
The sound my back made when it slammed into the mat was not normal. It was that sharp, wet thud like when you drop a raw steak on tile. I saw stars like Real ones. Like I’d opened a damn galaxy portal with my spine.

“Shit,” I groaned, curling sideways in pain, my ribs screaming like they'd been yanked out and stomped on. Everything ached. My mouth tasted like blood and humiliation, but it wasn’t over. Not even close.

Nikita stood over me like some damn titan, breathing hard, fists flexing. That bitch looked proud of himself. Like tossing me across the ring was some kinda hobby. My vision blurred, but I still caught the smug-ass smirk tugging at her lip.

“Stay down, kid,” he muttered like he was being generous. “This ain’t your league.”, I wasn't listening though, last time I did listen his fist ended on my jaw .

I spat blood on the mat and grinned like a lunatic. “Yeah? And yet here I am… still fuckin’ breathing.”

He rolled his eyes and came at me again but this time fast....
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  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   FINAL STRIKE

    Rival’s POVThe Hudson was black glass that night, swallowing light, swallowing sound.Pier 19 rose out of it like a scar, the cranes stiff against the skyline, containers stacked like coffins, guards prowling with flashlights cutting white scars through the dark.I crouched in the shadows, rain slicking my jacket, the river stink heavy in my nose. Beside me, Thomas checked his pistol, the click-click too loud in the silence.“You sure about this?” he whispered.“No.”He smirked, teeth flashing in the dark. “Good. Hate it when you sound confident. Means something’s about to blow.”“Something is about to blow,” I said, tapping the small satchel of charges slung at my hip. “That’s the whole point.”We moved low, hugging the fence line. Guards smoked near the gate, two shadows laughing, rifles slung too loose. They weren’t ready for wolves.Thomas slipped ahead, knife glinting as he came up behind one. Quick slice, muffled gurgle, body down in the mud. I grabbed the other, hand over his

  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   THE GROUND WORK

    Rival’s POVThe city never slept, but it sure as hell twitched.Every corner, every shadow felt wired, like New York itself knew Sicily had promised to set the curtain on fire.Me and Thomas didn’t sleep either. Couldn’t. His words still burned in my skull—either kneel or drown. Screw that.By morning, we were already moving.We started at Pier 19. From a distance, daylight stripped the menace, made the place look almost normal—dockworkers hauling crates, forklifts whining, gulls picking at trash. But even in the sun, you could smell it. Sicily’s stink.I watched from across the street, hidden behind a busted delivery van. Thomas leaned on the hood, sunglasses on, chewing gum like he was on a beach vacation.“You know,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the dock, “daylight makes this all look boring. No guns, no theatrics. Just sweaty assholes in vests moving boxes.”“Look closer.”He did. Then whistled low. “Yeah. Not dockhands. Too smooth. Too… aware. And that guy’s holding the clipboar

  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   WALKING AWAY

    Rival’s POVThe pier didn’t feel real once Sicily’s shadow was gone.Like the bastard took the air with him. The boards under my boots groaned with every step, wet with salt and rain, but the silence pressing down made it worse.Thomas walked close, pistol hidden in his jacket now, jaw tight. He hadn’t cracked a joke since Sicily flicked that cigarette into the river. That worried me more than the meeting itself.We kept moving, slow and low, back through the stacks of crates and rusted steel. The gulls screeched overhead like they’d seen it all before—blood, betrayal, bodies in the water.Halfway to the street, Thomas finally hissed, “What the fuck was that?”I didn’t answer. Not right away. My mind replayed every second, every twitch of Sicily’s smile. The bastard didn’t just invite us—he owned the stage. He’d been rehearsing that line for weeks.Thomas grabbed my arm, yanking me to a stop between two containers. “Rival. Don’t pull that silent-shit on me. You heard him. We either kn

  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   THE SMILE

    Rival’s POVThe wood groaned under my boots as I stepped out from the crates.Thomas stayed at my shoulder, pistol loose in his hand, eyes sharp under the dim lamplight. We moved together—always together—two shadows peeling themselves free of the dark.Sicily didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just stood there on the pier like he’d been expecting this exact entrance, like we were late to his party. His lips curved in that same infuriating smirk, one hand tucked inside his tailored coat, the other holding a cigarette he never bothered to smoke.“Well, well,” he said, voice smooth as oil sliding over water. “The ghosts finally crawl out of the smoke.”Thomas muttered under his breath, “More like rats into a trap.”I cut him a quick glare, but Sicily’s men had already twitched at the sound. Fingers brushed triggers, shoulders stiffened. The air thickened with the kind of silence that only breaks in gunfire.I kept my knife low, blade catching the faint glow. My lungs burned with the salt-st

  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   PIER 19

    Rival’s POVPier 19 always smelled like rot.Fish guts, saltwater, rust—it clung to the air, stuck in your throat. Even in the dark hours before dawn, the place was alive with the hum of the city’s veins: freighters groaning, gulls screeching, waves slapping against barnacled hulls.Thomas leaned against a stack of shipping crates, chewing on a cigarette he hadn’t bothered to light. His shoulder was wrapped tight in the bandage I’d given him, though he still carried himself like it was nothing but a scratch.“You know,” he muttered, spitting the filter into the water, “if I die here, I want it on record that I warned you this was stupid.”I crouched near the edge of the pier, scanning the shadows where the lamplight didn’t reach. “You say that everywhere we go.”“Yeah, but this time I mean it.”I shot him a look. He grinned, the kind that tugged at his bruised jaw even though it hurt him. Always smirking at the edge of hell.From our angle, the pier stretched long and empty, slick wit

  • THE HIDDEN RIVAL   THE SAFE HOUSE

    Rival’s POVBy the time we shook the sirens, the city had stripped us down to smoke and silence.The streets behind us still glowed red and blue, sirens echoing faint through the maze of alleys. But here—two blocks past the river, tucked into a row of half-dead brownstones—things went quiet. Too quiet.I picked the lock on the third building with a bent nail, shoving Thomas through the door before my nerves had a chance to crack. The place smelled like mildew and old wood, floorboards sagging under our weight.It wasn’t safe. But it was empty. That was enough.Thomas collapsed into the nearest chair with a groan, his pistol clattering to the table. His head dropped back, sweat dripping into the collar of his soot-blackened shirt.“You’re welcome,” I muttered, dropping my pack on the floor.He cracked one eye open, smirking weak. “For what? Dragging me into a roach motel?”I shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “For keeping you alive.”“Alive is generous,” he said, wincing as he

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