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It was chaos.

And it reignited my passion for the game.

Fuck Ilsa, she can do what she wants. If she wants to continue the cat-and-mouse game, then so be it. I had no issue with that, but I wasn’t going to stop what I was doing and give up on a good thing because she couldn’t keep her nose out of my business.

What did she care about potential collateral damage anyway? She didn’t know these people, and it made no difference to her at all. I’d make every assurance the wrong people didn’t get hurt, and whatever her issue was beyond that was none of my concern.

So, taste for the chaos reignited. I didn’t wait weeks or even days before striking again but moved on to the next venue only a block away the very next night.

Sure, I could’ve done the damage during the day, but there was something so much more invigorating about the night, and let’s be honest, the worst people came out to play in the darkness.

This time, a mechanics shop.

Which was more like a chop shop.

Too many cars went in and didn’t come back out again, not the same color or with the same identification number anyway. You show me someone in this area who drives a Mercedes, and I’ll accept this place is legitimate, and there’s nothing sinister going on behind the scenes.

Besides, what mechanic is open well past midnight, the lights glowing across the otherwise empty street, the sounds of buzzsaws and drills blasting through the silence and mingling with the sounds of bass from the nightclub down the street?

“Hello, boys.” I sauntered into the place after breaking the lock on the roller door and forced it up, the resulting crash echoed in the silence following my entry.

When they simply continued to stare at me, I felt the impact of my entrance wasn’t being appreciated.

“I said…” I cleared my throat, dropping one hip and placing a hand on my waist. “Hello, boys.”

“Get out of here, lady,” one of them snarled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and leaving a smear of grease.

“Well, that’s no way to treat, as you say, alady.”Smiling, I crossed my arms. “So, which one of you is in charge?”

“What do you want?”

I turned, eyeing the man who had questioned me, holding a heavy wrench and was resting it in his palm. “I want the biggest, strongest guy here, so when I kick his ass, you’ll all know I mean business, and you’ll leave the building so I can burn it down.”

The laughter that rang out wasn’t unexpected, and I continued to smile brightly at them, letting my eyes flick around the room, taking count as more of them emerged from corners and shadows. I saw him before he had moved in front of the others. He was hard to miss, slightly under seven feet tall and large arms crossed over his barrel-like chest.

“Are you the boss?”

He sneered. “No, I’m the one you have to get through to get to the boss.”

Laughter again.

I cracked my knuckles, fully entering the garage. “All right, let’s get this out of the way.”

He was still laughing when my fist connected with his jaw. Anyone else it would’ve knocked them on their ass, but for this monster truck of a man, he simply stumbled back a few steps. The laughter ceased, and it was my turn to giggle. He cracked his knuckles this time, sounding with several fewer cracks than it had when I had made the move. Ducking as he swung a punch at me, I flitted around him and connected another to his kidney, forcing a grunt from him.

With every move, he was becoming angrier, and the jeers from the audience that had formed did nothing to keep his rage under control. The grin didn’t fall from my face, even when he connected with my jaw, and although I had moved so his knuckles barely scraped it, it was still enough to send me stumbling back.

Soon, the back and forth was boring me. This slow-moving man who relied on sheer power rather than skill was bothering me, and I found myself yearning for the heat of the fire.

Time to clear these fuckers out.

With a cry, I ran at him, littering his body with a smattering of punches from his groin up his torso, and when he bent as he was winded, I grabbed the back of his head and punched his face, over and over until he lost consciousness. He was a heavy bastard, so I let him drop to his knees and then forward onto his face when he was no longer holding up his weight.

Stretching my elbows behind my back, I clicked my tongue against my cheek. “All right, who’s up next?”

Apparently, it was the man with the wrench, and he kept the weapon at bay as he approached me.

That was a mistake.