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“What about Kiera—” I start to offer.

“No.” Phoenix’s voice is sharp, making the rest of us flinch and look up at him in surprise.

“No women and children.”

“They didn’t show us that mercy.” Ash’s eyes blaze with fury, and I know he’s not just thinking of our mom, but of Megan as well.

“We’re not them.” Phoenix’s words are final. No discussion. And he’s right. I wonder what Lucy would think if she were here and seeing that we did have some values.

Blaise's eyes light up with that dangerous gleam I recognize from childhood pranks. "I can forge some documents showing unauthorized withdrawals from their accounts. Make it look like someone's skimming."

"Focus on the newer recruits," Ash adds. "The ones Hampton doesn't know well enough to trust completely."

We quickly get back into a familiar rhythm of plotting, and it’s nice. I feel normal for the first time in a while.

"Remember when we used to plan elaborate schemes to steal Mrs. Cramer's cookies?" Blaise grins, and for a moment, I see the kid he used to be.

"And she always knew it was us." I chuckle. "But she'd leave extras out, anyway."

Phoenix's stern expression softens slightly. "The Keans won't be as forgiving as Mrs. Cramer."

"That's the point." Ash taps the table. "They'll tear themselves apart looking for traitors. And while they're distracted…"

"We'll be the least of their concerns," I finish.

Later that evening,I head to the fight feeling rejuvenated and ready to kick some serious ass. As I warm up, I listen for gossip from others in the area. Phoenix is right about their being spooked. Word on the street is Hampton's calling in favors, tightening security. Marshall's death hit them harder than I’d have expected. Good. Let them scramble.

My phone buzzes. A text from Blaise.

Ronan’s there tonight. Watch your back. Could be he’s suspicious.

I delete the message immediately. Having Ronan there complicates things. He's unpredictable, violent, and he might remember what I looked like before the fire. We spent time together as kids when our parents were on friendlier terms.

But I’m not too worried about why he’s there. The fights are his baby. He’s as thirsty as me. The difference is he’s not willing to mess up his million-dollar manicure.

His presence also means others in the inner circle will show up. Perfect opportunity to listen in and gain more intel.

I refocus on my warmup, knowing that I need to do well to prove to my brothers that my head is back in the game. I roll my shoulders, letting the familiar pre-fight tension build. Tonight isn't about winning the match. It's about proving to my brothers—and myself—that I haven't lost sight of what matters.

“Hey, didn’t you kick O’Brian’s ass?” Murphey, the fighter I’d spoken to before, asks.

“Maybe.”

“He’s missing. You have something to do with it?”

I shake my head. “No. Probably an angry husband pissed that O’Brian couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Yeah, well, some people think maybe it was you.”

It occurs to me that when I beat up O’Brian and his friends, I didn’t just save Lucy. I made a mockery of him and Kean’s crew. Something that wouldn’t sit well with them. I’m sure they’ve tried to keep it quiet because it makes them look like pussies. O'Brian's disappearance could be complicating things for me.

Maybe I should have joined them when asked because now they’re watching me closer. The Keans don't trust outsiders who won't fully commit to their organization. And they definitely don't trust fighters who humiliate their crew.

“I do all my fighting in the ring as long as people keep their hands off what’s mine.”

"Ready to get your ass kicked, Tine?" someone calls out.

I smile at Murphey. “That’s my cue.” I trot to the ring and climb through the ropes, taking in the roar of the crowd.