Page 3 of Invisible String (The Underground #1)

It’s farther than I expected it to be. I pass the roaring of cars; the lights from the strip illuminate the city from afar.

When I finally make it to the club, I toss my backpack on the floor and take out the crowbar.

I’m not the type of kid who is a troublemaker, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I slide the flat end of the crowbar into the gap of the door, just below the lock.

My heart palpitates fast because the last thing I need is to go to juvie.

I add more force until the lock clicks without bending the metal of the door.

I wait to see if alarms sound. Once it’s safe, I walk in and turn the lights on.

Three punching bags hang by a metal chain—two super speed bags.

My eyes widen at the vast ring. The place smells of sweat and cleaners.

No boxing gloves in sight. Now that I’m sixteen, I need to ask if I can get a job. I need gloves.

One fist hits the bag, then the other. I picture the man who did this to me.

Who broke every promise. Punch. Punch. The bag swings from side to side as I pound on it.

My feet move in the rhythm of my fists .

The heaviness of each breath has me heaving into the next punch. My knuckles scrape against the vinyl.

Anger rises when I think of all those who have done me wrong, who abused me, who left me without a scrap of food. My mind shuffles through the enormous number of faces. I punch through each face. Fuck you. Punch. Fuck you!

“Asshole. I hate you,” I shout to the empty room. “I didn’t ask for this.” My fists veer to the side of the swinging bag in blazing anger as tears run down my cheeks. I’m determined to learn how to fight. I won’t let anyone touch me again.

From that day on, I would sneak out of my room whenever I wanted to break into the boxing gym.

The Nova’s engine revs loudly in the boxing club parking lot, echoing against the walls of the dimly lit street.

I’ll never forget that moment—the way someone who barely knew me looked at me with raw gratitude.

It was three months after my string of break-ins, and I stumbled into the club, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and determination.

There, draped over a worn-out chair, I discovered a pair of new boxing gloves, neatly folded hand wraps, and a cozy hoodie, all waiting for me as if they were meant to guide me to a fresh path.

I didn’t think they were meant for me, but I used them.

Then, I returned it every night. I never stole from him.

Three months after the six months of breaking in, Carlos showed up, and I thought I was going to get arrested, but instead, he said, “I’ve been watching through the camera.

” He pointed to it. Damn, I never paid attention.

“I trust you, kid. You want to learn how to box. I’ll teach you. Come after school tomorrow.”

“I don’t have money for classes,” I had said, sweat dripping down. I’m positive he figured I wouldn’t take it freely.

“How about you work for me, clean up, and in return, you learn to fight and use the club whenever you want, just no more breaking in?”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

From that day forward, boxing took over my life. I built muscle, grew confidence, and mastered the art of self-defense.

As I walk in, guys and a few women fill the gym, sparring and pounding the bags. Some lifting weights. It’s home when I walk in—the sound of thunder ricochets against the walls. Adrenaline pulses through me like a drug to get in the ring and release the monster raging in me.

“Max, my man,” Carlos calls out after finishing a round of sparring with some teens. For a forty-year-old man, he looks good. You would think he was not a day over thirty. “You made it just in time. Julian and Nathan are here to spar with you.” He jumps off the ring.

“Watch it, old man; you don’t want to break a hip.” My lips twitch when he raises a brow at me. Carlos is fit. He has been since the day I met him.

. “Old man, huh? I can take you down, cabrón .” He throws a punch at my side. Carlos shakes his head. “Damn, you’re made of stone.”

Lifting my shirt, I flex my abs. He laughs. “Conceited ass.”

Carlos has taken me under his wing as a good friend and family.

Although I don’t fill him in on everything, he knows enough about me.

At first, I lied to him, telling him my parents worked late, and I would walk back home.

It took two years from when I met him to spill the truth when he was about to drive me home to the last foster home I had at eighteen.

Since then, he’s been a father figure to me.

He’s asked me to move in with him and his kind wife, Nessa, but there’s no way I’d be a burden to them.

“Get dressed, son, and we’ll get started.”

An hour later, I’m soaking—sweat glazes down my body. My shirt clings to my body. Catching my breath, I sit on the bench in the locker room connected to the showers.

My heart bulges in my chest, satisfied for now to unleash the monsters who lurk in me.

All my life, I’ve been the outcast. The boy no one wanted.

Fighting makes me feel in control—alive.

Just because I know how to fuck a person up doesn’t mean I’ll start a fight, but I’ll sure as hell finish it if they come near me.

“Max, I know you’re a man who takes care of his own, but I know people in high places. I can ask if they’re hiring. You know I’m always here for you. If you need money for rent, I can help you out.”

With a towel, I wipe the sweat off my face and look at Carlos. “You’ve done a lot for me through the years. I’ll find something, don’t worry.” He takes out a wad of money from his wallet and hands it to me.

Shaking my head at him, I gently push his hand back. “Nah, I have money, and Mike’s going to pay the other half,” I lie. There’s no reason he needs to know how fucked up I really am. “I appreciate it, though.”

He sighs, clearly not believing my bullshit, but he won’t question me. “Will you at least come over for dinner? Nessa is preparing your favorite.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by. I’m going to be gone for a while.”

His forehead creases. “Where are you going?”

“Out to Tahoe for the summer. I need to regroup and get out of city life. Mike lent me his family’s cabin.”

“That does sound like a good plan. City life can get to you. We all need a breather sometimes. Stop by the house at six for dinner, and you know Nessa. She’ll load you with food for the road.”

I hardly smile, but for his wife’s kindness, I will.

“You got it. I’ll be there. Let me shower, and then I’ll head out.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight.” He pats my shoulder and walks out.

Turning the faucet on, I lean into the hot stream of water. Thank you, Carlos, for having showers at the gym. My head falls back against the tile wall. I take a moment to inhale a long breath. It’s been a shit day, but then again, my life was damned at a young age.

Stepping out of the shower, then drying off, I slip on a clean pair of boxers and shorts. The backpack hangs from one side of my shoulder as I weave out into the main room of the gym, where the rings are. Coach Bliss, Carlos’ long-time assistant, juts his chin at me.

“Hey, Max.”

A girl jumps out in front of me as I’m about to greet Bliss.

My mind doesn’t register her name. I’m shit when it comes to remembering anyone’s names.

She’s about to lay a hand on my chest. She stops herself when I step back.

“So, I was wondering if we could hang out and do what we did the other night.”

I’m clueless about what I did to her. Her eyelashes flutter like she wants to lure me in.

“Not sure what we did. I have no knowledge of it.”

She blushes. “We had a night?”

I raise an eyebrow, confused.

“We…you know had me from behind.” Her ears grow red.

That explains why I don’t remember her. My number one rule with women is to take them from behind. They don’t touch me, and we both get a release. No need to be all touchy.

“I’m Ana.”

“Not today. Maybe some other day.” My tone comes out gruff as she steps around me, speed walking toward the women’s lockers.

“You have a way with women, Max.” Bliss chuckles. I jerk my shoulder upward. He knows I give zero fucks when it comes to women.

Not that I’m disrespectful or abusive toward them. There’s no room in my dark soul to entertain that, and who would want a man as fucked as I am? On top of that, I’m not a fan of being touched. Those I allow are five people: Carlos, his wife, Mike, Drake, and, of course, the girl from my past.

Mike gloats over a woman’s touch. He explains it to be like a luxurious chocolate melting. On the other hand, I’m not craving it. I’ve had that once. It lasted a day before it was over.

Nessa carefully arranges a juicy steak, golden-brown roasted potatoes, and vibrant steamed vegetables into a red container.

She seals it tightly before placing it next to a bag of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

At dinner with Carlos and his wife, laughter and conversation flow easily, creating a warm atmosphere.

Despite the smiles, there is an unspoken understanding between them.

Carlos and Nessa had once dreamed of having children, but after years of hope and disappointment, they had gently let go of that dream.

“Call us if you need anything, Max.” Nessa’s soft voice hums in the air as she envelops me in her arms.

“I will.”

“Did you check the fluids in the car before you head on a seven-hour drive?”

I open the driver’s door and place the food on the passenger seat. Shutting the door, I reply to the question. “Yeah, I did yesterday when I gave it a tune-up.”

“Good. Drive safe, mijo .”

I nod and start the car.

Waving them off, I back out and head down the highway. I’m unsure what I’m doing going to the cabin. For now, it’s better than sleeping in my car.

“Outcast” by NF blasts through the speakers. I’ve been running my entire life, on the go, on the streets. I’m ready for it all to come to a stop.