Fight Night Novel Novels & Stories

For a moment the fight felt raw, a ballet of panic and muscle. We were not trained for this. We were improvisers with a laptop and a stubborn need for truth. A fight erupted: shouts like broken glass, the slap of boots, the smell of sweat and metal. I ducked instinctively as Juliette pushed the shorter man, and she fell toward the gate. I scrambled for the USB, desperate, grabbing it from the place where I’d hidden it in the hollow of my jacket. In the chaos, something sliced my forearm—an ugly, stinging burn—and blood bloomed warm against my skin. The taller man grabbed at my wrist, his grip like vice, and I saw Juliette’s hand strike him across the face. He stumbled—an opening.

The enemy was defeated. We drove back to the compound in comfortable silence, the city lights flickering past the windows. Fiona Fitzpatrick was dead. Patrick would be dealt with. And for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I could breathe.

Now, I’m a girl who was an illegal street fighter, running around the night city, fighting for some cash to help a friend out and that was subtracting the fact that I just found out that my ex- childhood best friend hired a man to kill my brother and that man was standing in front of me after I went easy on him when I could’ve beaten him till death collected his soul. I was beyond pissed. “I’m giving you 35 seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” My fists started to tremble but I pressed them tightly onto my thighs, digging my knuckles over the dress’ fabric. The guy didn’t even have enough sense to look scared. He just stood there, looking like we were old friends gossiping

The gangster steps back while dragging Rania from her arm; he gulps down the dry lump in his throat as he tightens his hold around the grip of the pistol and with the help of his thumb, he pulls the hammer back and keeps his index finger on the trigger; "You asked for it and now you will get it" The gangster says nervously meantime Daniel pulls out the gun from his jacket and the sound of a gunshot cracks in the cold air of dark night, the sound echoes louder in that empty Cobblestone Street. Rania screams as she saw the blood poured out from the chest of the guy while memories of past flash back in front her eyes. He falls back on the street with a painful cry, he raises his hand for help b

I managed to jump out of her way, and she plummeted over the ground beside me. I jumped on her, and we fought until Nejla battered me off, and then we began to circle again. The crowd became impatient after seeing us going around in circles for longer. Two wolves started to growl at each other beside me, and I lost focus for a microsecond, enough for Nejla to throw herself over my back, and I felt her teeth sink into my neck. The pain shot through my body, and I managed to get her to hang on the side, and I slammed down on the ground. I was squeezing her against the ground. And then her tail was closed enough to the ring to catch fire.

She picked up the said deadly weapon in her hands and attacked the intruder, "DIE IN THE NAME OF THE HOLY POWER OF THE FRYING PAN" accompanied the war cry. The person swiftly turned his figure silhouetted against the light streaming from the refrigerator. His because Eira's mind registered the fact that it was a male from the build. The person tried to take on the holy power of the frying pan that Eira had now slapped onto his face. Smack. The momentum of it had him slamming against the refrigerator door. Eira again tried to attack the person but a hand flashed out in the darkness taking hold of her hand firmly

His muscles coiled with tension, every nerve primed for the imminent clash that was about to unfold. The attack was sudden and fierce, a whirlwind of teeth and claws that clashed in the dead of night. The air was filled with snarls and growls, a symphony of violence that painted the darkness in shades of crimson. Ethan fought with a primal ferocity, his instincts guiding every move, every strike. He was wounded, blood seeping from his side, but his determination burned brighter than the pain.

Ben jumps up from his chair, and he stumbles backwards before he draws the Glock from his side and starts firing into us. My body jerks as I feel every bullet as my life slips from me. Then and there, we are going out fighting, using our last breath to leap at Ben. If I thought the bed was hard, the concrete floor meeting my back was worse. Even so, I don't even bother to get up. The brown water-stained ceiling tiles above me seem to take on patterns of my nightmare, and I close my eyes against them. 'Nick, you must get up, fight it.'

“No, not for real. I lied. Things are… they’re better in some ways, but still rough in others.” “You wanna tell me?” Nick ran a finger over the label on his beer bottle. “I – yeah.” Luke leaned back, giving Nick space. “Whenever you’re ready.” Nick nodded quietly, his eyes fixed on the beer label. He felt the waves of calm coming over the table at him, and he tried to just relax into them. Luke Rhodes was a goddamn survivor of a foreign war, one that had taken his hand, and despite that trauma, the man had made a whole new life after. A good life.

Trees lined the roads, and the distant hills spread like a sleeping city. Niya looked back and saw Reena in the mirror. “So… what were you reading last night that made you so late?” Reena took a long breath and said, “Ugh, don’t even ask. That story’s villain is so stupid!” Niya laughed and asked, “Villain? So what kind of book were you reading?” Reena closed her eyes and said, “Man, the hero clearly says no, so why does the girl keep chasing him?