All Chapters of THE HIDDEN RIVAL: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

RIVAL’S POVVega leaned back in his chair like he’d been expecting us to walk in bruised and broke. Thomas still had a faint limp, and my lip was split from my own job earlier in the week, but neither of us was in the mood to give him the satisfaction of a complaint.Instead, Vega slid a small envelope across the counter.“This one’s different,” he said. “Not muscle. Not the type you can intimidate with a fist in the gut. He’s clever. Real clever. Slipped two other collectors in the last month.”Thomas raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sending us?”Vega smirked. “Because you’re still too new to think you’re untouchable. You’ll pay attention. You’ll stay hungry. And if you screw it up, you leave or—” he tapped the counter— “you’ll learn fast.”I took the envelope before Thomas could start with his excuses. Inside was a single piece of paper with an address and a name. Samuel Duran.I folded it and shoved it into my pocket. “We’ll get it done.”Vega’s smirk deepened like he’d heard that be

RIVAL’S POVThe three taps came again. Same rhythm. Same patience.My eyes shot open, knife already in my hand before my brain caught up.Moonlight cut a pale strip across the floor, just enough to paint the shadow of Thomas curled up on the couch, snoring weakly. He hadn’t heard a thing. Figures.I crept to the door, every step silent. My ribs still ached from earlier, my lip split wide, but the pain didn’t matter. The knock mattered.I pressed my ear against the door. Nothing. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl.Then his voice drifted through, calm as a sermon:“Relax. I’m not here to fight tonight.”I closed my eyes. Samuel. Of course.I slid the lock, pulled the door open a crack. There he stood, pristine as if we hadn’t torn each other apart just hours ago. Shirt pressed, hair combed, no blood. Like he’d shed his bruises with his suit.“What now?” I asked flatly.He smiled, and it pissed me off how calm it looked. “Can I come in?”“No.”“Then step outside. W

RIVAL’S POVThomas’s voice followed me like a buzzing mosquito.“You don’t have to do this.”I jammed my hands deeper into my jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the early-morning chill. The city still stank of last night — piss in alleys, smoke hanging low, the metallic bite of rain-soaked iron.“Shut up, Thomas.”“I mean it,” he pressed, jogging to keep pace. “Nobody owns you. Not Vega, not Samuel, not his circus crowd. You can walk away before—”I stopped dead. He skidded half a step before he realized. My eyes cut into him, sharp enough to make him shrink.“Thomas,” I said, voice low. “If you want to stay alive around me, here’s the rule: you don’t tell me what I can’t do. You just be cute enough to cheer when I’m bleeding. Got it?”His mouth opened, shut, then opened again. He swallowed hard. “...Cute boy cheerleader. Got it.”Good.The debt job was nothing new. Another greasy-faced debtor who thought stiffing Vega was a good life choice. By the time I was done with him, hi

RIVAL’S POVThe debt run that morning was clean. Too clean.The guy opened his door, pale as paper, already holding the cash. Didn’t even make me kick a chair or break a bone. Just shoved the roll into my hand like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me.I almost respected it, Almost cause he didn't waste our time...but I just can't leave without kicking some chin...and yeah.Still kicked him in the shin hard enough to drop him before leaving.Thomas winced. “Was that necessary?”I smirked, pocketing the bills. “Always.”He sighed, like he was tired of me even though he still trailed after me like a shadow. That’s the thing about Thomas: he hated what I was, but he hated the idea of me gone even more.Back at Vega’s desk, I tossed the roll down. The bastard didn’t even look at me—just scribbled in his ledger like I was another number.“Another tonight,” he said, same flat tone.I felt Thomas stiffen beside me. He always hated how Vega treated me like inventory. But I didn’t care. Every nigh

RIVAL’S POVThe mornings belonged to Thomas now.Before the pit, before the crowd, before the rails shook with their howling — it was just him and me in that empty house, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoing through the walls like church bells for heathens, we had to take a break from Vega.He wasn’t built for this. Too soft, too hesitant. His hands split open from the bag before he even learned how to wrap them right. His ribs bruised purple every time I cracked him with a body shot.But he kept getting up.That was the only thing I cared about.“Square your stance,” I barked, circling him. “You’re still standing like a scared kid. Widen your base or I’ll put you on your ass again.”His jaw was tight, sweat dripping into his swollen eye. He didn’t argue. Just reset his feet, raised his fists again.I lunged, shoulder down, slammed into him hard enough to rattle his bones. He staggered, almost fell. Almost.“Better,” I grunted.He spat blood onto the floor, nodding, eyes locked on