Page 3

Like watchingFight Clubin person.

Like getting to taste something no one was supposed to talk about.

Georgia tilted her head at me. “You wouldn’t go?”

I shrugged, careful not to act too interested. “I’m not trying to end up in the trunk of someone’s car. Plus, my dad would lose his shit.”

Which, let’s be honest, was half the appeal.

Mayor Kingsley’s daughter showing up ringside at a criminal fistfight? Headlines for days.

But I played it cool.

“Still,” I added, swirling my drink, “I’m sure it’ll be very cathartic for all the men with unresolved mommy issues. Or maybe daddy issues. Or better yet… maybe both.”

They laughed again, the moment drifting off into talk of outfits and whether we should crash the yacht club after midnight. The image stuck in my head, though.

Two men in a concrete ring, fighting like wild animals while the city slept.

One of them tattooed, dangerous. Russian.The Hammer, he was called, right?

I didn’t know what that meant, but I sort of wanted to.

I leaned back, phone in hand, and opened a text thread with a contact I hadn’t used in months, one of those people you meet at the wrong kind of party and keep around for exactly the wrong kind of reason. Or maybe the right one… Who knows?

Me: Any chance you’ve got the location for the fight tomorrow night?

The typing bubbles started almost immediately. Game on. The reply came faster than I expected.

Ghost: Maybe. Who’s asking?

Me: Someone bored out of her mind with a high pain threshold.

A pause.

Ghost: You really wanna be in that room?

Me: Define ‘room.’

Ghost: Warehouse in Southie. No exits, no rules. Cash only. Don’t be stupid.

Me: I never am.

(That was a lie.)

Ghost: Tomorrow. 11:30. Corner of Goddard and Hanover. Blue door. Knock twice, wait for the knock back. Say ‘forged in fire.’

Me: That’s dramatic.

Ghost: So’s getting your teeth knocked in.

I mean… fair.

I bit the inside of my cheek, grinning as the thrill wound low in my stomach. It wasn’t fear. Not yet. It was thepossibilityof something new and exciting,like the way the city started to feel different when you stepped off the well-lit sidewalk and followed the cracks in the pavement.

It was ridiculous. It was theatrical. It was probably dangerous.

But I was totally in.