Page 89 of Fractured Future

“You should see her. She’s talented.”

“I don’t want to see her getting beaten up! Fuck!”

Another skilful kick lands Madden flat on his ass. The crowd can’t seem to decide whether they should be applauding or booing while watching the fight unfold.

I’ve seen the Phantom fight before on numerous occasions. Back when we were investigating his family for single handedly propping up London’s drugs trade, I infiltrated several of their shady clubs.

Their business model was clever. Hiding an illegal empire behind legitimate business ventures like bars, casinos and strip clubs, they concealed their misdeeds while drawing in a captive audience to purchase their wares.

Blaine Madden fought regularly at the street fights his father used to organise. I’ve seen him prance around bare-chested and bloodied more times than I can count while doing surveillance.

This isn’t his best.

Sure, Ember’s very good. Her skill and the ease with which she manipulates the fight is undeniable. But Madden is obviously thrown off by something.

The way he looks at her…

Beyond my relief at finding her safe and sound, I’ve maintained a professional distance. She’s my client first and foremost. But perhaps more importantly, she’s my best friend’s baby sister.

Now this motherfucker is looking at her like she’s his new favourite toy, and fuck if I don’t want to tear out his eyeballs with my bare hands, grind them into a paste and feed them back to him before I slit his throat.

Looming over Madden, Ember appears to whisper something to him. Despite blood dripping from his pierced lip, he’s lounging on the ground like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Ember straightens like she’s about to walk away. At the last second, she twists her body around to deliver a final, bone-crunching strike that leaves Madden star-fished across the ground.

There’s no applause. It’s as though no one knows how to react as Ember wipes sweat from her forehead with her bare arm. The warehouse pulses with energy when Madden drags himself up.

He peers up at Ember, a trail of blood now dripping from his chin onto his heaving pecs. Concern intensifies in my chest at the long, loaded look silently shared between them.

Then he claps.

The Phantom fuckingclaps.

Cheers and applause form an ear-ringing cacophony all around me. Drinks sail through the air as toasts are exchangedat his apparent yielding. The yelling reaches an enthralled fever-pitch.

When Ember stretches out a hand to yank Madden up, I’m astonished to see that he takes it. Not only did he lose the fight, but now he’s publicly accepting her help.

“Warner?” Hyland rumbles in my ear.

“I’m here. She won.”

“Ember… won?”

“Damn near knocked him out too.”

“Ah, hell.” He sighs. “Get her out of there before that cheering turns to something else.”

“Copy. Be ready for a quick departure.”

While Ember steps out of the circle and farther into the warehouse, Madden lingers behind to speak to the referee. I move fast, dodging through the still-celebrating crowd to catch Ember before he follows.

She’s taking her jacket off a broad-shouldered thug when I get close enough to seize her elbow.

“We’re leaving.”

Startled, Ember turns her head towards me. “What the fu… Warner?”

“Right now. Move.”