Page 178 of Incompatible

Not that I’m close to them in any way. The only thing we share is sparring sessions, and the Ferros don’t talk much to begin with. That’s how they were raised. They never discuss anything personal, never get into anything remotely related to the mafia, and we stay strictly technical sparring buddies. But since I’ve had the chance to fight in the cage a few times myself, there’s a bit of nostalgia in me, and that’s why every now and then I show up to watch the fights and see how much they’ve improved.

The lights flash, and the air is thick with the scent of alpha sweat and excitement. The crowd roars, shouts, pushes the fighters on. Everyone loves watching purple alphas even though they’re banned from shifting into their full combatimagoform. The reason is simple. The fight would end far too fast and the injuries would be way too serious, but it doesn’t change the factthat the show is still impressive when two massive human beasts slam into each other inside the cage.

Meanwhile, I lazily vape and just watch, not thinking about anything at all, simply absorbing the spectacle.

From where I’m sitting, I can also see the Ferros’ own VIP box. Anzo usually sits there, sometimes even with his nephew and right-hand man, Rocco. I’ve always kept my distance for that exact reason. Ennio has never introduced me to his uncle, the capo, and I have no interest in changing that. Knowing one member of the mafia is more than enough for me. But when I glance over there today, I notice something different. Anzo isn’t there, which is extremely rare, and instead I see Ennio, Eliano, Mauro, and someone else I’ve never seen before.

I can’t make out the details from this distance, but since Anzo isn’t present, it occurs to me that maybe I could walk over and say hello.

When the fighters get a short break and their trainers drench them with water, I leave my box and text Ennio so he can let thesoldatiguarding the entrance know I’m coming.

By the time I walk up to the door, thesoldatialready expect me, because they silently step aside. I open the door and walk into the box.

Just like me, Ennio is sitting there with his vape, the air carrying the familiar tang of the sedatives. I shake his hand.

Our hellos always look like this, restrained and minimal.

I say hi to Anzo’s two other nephews as well.

Eliano and I trade a complicated series of greeting gestures he taught me a year ago. I’m not exactly middle-school age anymore, but why not. The kid has so little fun in his life, everything revolves around training and that cold mafia upbringing, so I feel justified in giving him a moment of something a bit lighter.

Eliano doesn’t seem happy. But what’s new, he never is. From what I know, he’d love to be a journalist, but that career just isn’t meant for him. He’s staring gloomily at his brother Luca fighting in the cage. He knows that in a year he’ll be the one in there. He’ll have to fight in the junior group for the first time.

Anzo doesn’t tolerate weakness in his nephews. They all have to be top-tier fighters. Regular martial arts training isn’t enough. They have to learn not to fear pain, to take hits to the jaw in real situations, the kind you’ll never reproduce inside a training room where no one is fighting with the kind of desperation that comes from wanting to win at all costs.

Mauro, who is mute, simply shakes my hand and goes back to watching the arena, because Luca’s opponent is starting to gain an advantage. Benzo knocks Luca to the ground for a split second and the crowd gasps so loudly it almost rattles the railings. Luca barely pulls himself out of it.

There’s still that one new person in the box, someone completely unexpected. I’ve never seen him here before.

He’s a young omega with strange hair that’s completely silver, no, not gray—silver, and he has mismatched eyes.

I prefer not to make conversation with someone who’s sitting in a mafia box, so I don’t greet him, but his eyes lock on me with a strange intensity.

I sit next to Ennio, who throws me a sharp look. For the past few years we’ve had a secret… sort of cooperation, but obviously we can’t discuss any details in public, especially around his family, so I don’t bring up anything except a few simple comments about Luca’s opponent’s technique, which Ennio mostly agrees with.

We exchange a few quick remarks about what Gurco should focus on during Luca’s training, but the entire time we’re talking, I can feel that omega staring at me.

At some point Ennio notices the weird attention too, because he flicks me a look I already recognize, the kind that tells me something is up, then he makes a small circular motion with his finger near his temple. It can mean only one thing: he’s nuts or something along those lines. I have no idea why someone like that would even be here.

The worst part is that the intensity of that omega’s stare is starting to get uncomfortable, and something about him is shifting. At first he was just watching me with his head tilted, but now he has turned fully toward me and is staring straight at me. Mauro and Eliano have both noticed as well, and they exchange surprised looks with Ennio, raising their brows a little.

From their expressions I can tell that whoever this guy is, none of them understand his behavior, and what’s worse, they find it slightly amusing.

I take out my phone because whispering isn’t the best idea when alphas and omegas have exceptional hearing. I type my question for Ennio.

"Who is this weird guy and why is he staring at me?"

Ennio pulls out his phone and replies,

"Moon. He’s Anzo’s new ‘boyfriend’. He’s some kind of junkie Anzo found and claims he might be useful. Moon seems to have some clairvoyant abilities."

"I’m sorry, a junkie?" I write back. "Why would Anzo deal with someone like that?"

Ennio doesn’t answer, just shrugs and takes a drag from his vape. I do the same.

Well. Not my business.

We watch the fight for a moment. Benzo and Luca have been going at it for twenty minutes already, shoving each other against the cage bars hard enough that the metallic rattling carries out over the crowd.