Page 39

TWENTY-ONE

REIGN

The crowd roars as Ben lands another solid hit, sending his opponent Thompson stumbling backward.

Blood sprays from his opponent's nose, spattering across the canvas. Ben doesn't hesitate, following with a vicious uppercut that sends Thompson reeling against the ropes. The arena erupts.

"Your brother's fucking killing it," Marcus says, leaning toward me to be heard over the crowd. "That new combination is brutal."

"He's been working on it," I reply, forcing my attention back to the fight. "Spent three weeks training with that coach from Cuba."

But even as I speak, my eyes drift upward to the private box suspended above the ring like a glass cage.

Something’s wrong with Audrey. I can see it from here—the way she sits too straight, too still, like she’s holding herself together by pure force of will.

Her hands are clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles are white.

She hasn’t looked my way once tonight. Not once. That’s not like her.

"Worth every penny from the looks of it." Marcus gestures toward the ring where Ben has Thompson backed into the corner, landing body shots. "Thompson hasn't landed a solid hit in the last two rounds."

I nod absently, pulling out my phone to check for messages. The last text I sent her this afternoon—asking if she was ready for tonight—sits unanswered. She always responds. Always. Even if it’s just a quick confirmation that she got my message.

“Vega’s getting his money’s worth.” I take a swig of beer, the taste flat and unsatisfying. “The arena’s stock will jump after this.”

My attention should be on my brother. Ben’s having the fight of his life down there, systematically dismantling one of the division’s top contenders.

This is his moment, his shot at everything he’s been working toward.

But I can’t stop watching that glass box, can’t shake the feeling that something’s gone sideways with our plan.

Audrey sits like a statue beside Vega, her emerald dress catching the arena lights. Even from this distance, I can see the tension radiating from her. She’s not just nervous—she’s terrified. The careful mask she usually wears at these events has slipped, revealing something raw underneath.

Vega leans close to her occasionally, his mouth near her ear, but instead of the polite acknowledgment she usually gives him, she recoils slightly each time. Her responses are minimal, barely perceptible nods that look more like flinches.

“Speaking of Vega,” Marcus says, his voice dropping lower, “his security detail is fucking massive tonight. I counted twelve men on the floor alone.”

“Fourteen,” I correct him automatically. “Two more by the south entrance. Plus whatever he’s got stationed outside.”

The security presence feels different tonight. More alert. More focused. Like they’re preparing for something specific rather than just providing general protection.

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “You think he’s expecting trouble?”

“Maybe.” My jaw clenches as Vega’s hand settles on Audrey’s thigh, possessive and claiming. This time she doesn’t just go rigid—she actually shifts away from his touch. It’s subtle, probably invisible to most people, but I see it. “Or maybe he knows something we don’t.”

The thought sends ice through my veins. What if he’s figured out our plan? What if that’s why Audrey looks like she’s barely holding it together?

“Either way, it complicates things.” Marcus keeps his voice casual, like we’re discussing the weather instead of our plan to help Audrey escape her engagement. “The car’s still good for midnight?”

“Yeah. Black Suburban, tinted windows. Plates are clean.” I’ve gone over the details a hundred times in my head, mapping every possible route out of Cooper Heights, identifying potential choke points, planning contingencies. “We’ll take the mountain roads. Less chance of being followed.”

But the plan assumes everything goes smoothly tonight.

Assumes Audrey can maintain her facade through the fight, through whatever post-event obligations Vega has planned.

The woman sitting in that box doesn’t look like someone who’s holding it together.

She looks like someone on the verge of breaking.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the round. Ben returns to his corner, barely winded despite the intensity of the fight.

Pride should be surging through me as I watch him take instruction from his coach.

My little brother, dominating one of the top fighters in the division.

Instead, all I can think about is why Audrey won’t look at me.

Why she hasn’t answered my texts. What might have happened to put that brittle terror in her posture.

“You good with the Montana house?” Marcus asks, his eyes on the ring. “It’s remote as hell.”

“That’s the point.” The property sits on two hundred acres of wilderness, accessible only by a private road. No neighbors for miles. No connection to me or Pack Security. The perfect place to disappear until things cool down. “We’ll stay there until I can arrange something more permanent.”

If we make it that far. The thought hits me like a sucker punch. I’ve been so focused on the logistics of getting Audrey out that I haven’t fully considered what happens if Vega figures out what we’re planning. What happens if he’s already figured it out.

“And Audrey’s on board with all this?” Marcus glances toward the private box. “Leaving everything behind?”

“She’s the one who suggested it.” The memory of her face when we discussed our plans should send heat through my chest. The determination in her eyes, the certainty in her voice.

But right now, watching her sit like a prisoner beside her captor, I can’t shake the doubt creeping in.

“After tonight, she’s done with Vega. Done with Cooper Heights. ”

At least, that was the plan yesterday. Tonight feels different. Tonight feels like everything’s unraveling before it even begins.

“And what about Ben?” Marcus nods toward the ring where my brother is preparing for the final round. “You planning to tell him before you disappear?”

The question hits harder than it should. Ben and I have only recently started rebuilding our relationship after years of distance. This fight—his biggest opportunity yet—is partly due to my connections. And now I’m planning to vanish without explanation.

“I’ll call him once we’re settled,” I say, the words tasting bitter. “Can’t risk telling him beforehand. Vega’s his sponsor. It would put him in an impossible position.”

Marcus nods, understanding without needing further explanation. That’s why he’s been my right hand for fifteen years—he gets the hard choices, the necessary sacrifices.

“Pack Security?” he asks.

“All yours until I get back.” I’ve already signed the paperwork, transferring operational control to Marcus for six months. “The Blackwell contract should keep you busy.”

“And if you don’t come back?” His question is blunt, practical.

“Then it’s yours permanently.” I’ve considered this possibility—that leaving with Audrey might mean walking away from everything I’ve built. The business, my home, my life in Cooper Heights. The strange thing is, I don’t give a fuck. None of it matters compared to having her.

The final round begins with a flurry of activity. Ben charges forward, unleashing a combination that drives Thompson against the ropes. The crowd surges to its feet, sensing the end is near. I stand with them, but my attention is split between the ring and the box above.

In the private box, Vega has turned to face Audrey directly.

Even from this distance, I can see his mouth moving, see the sharp gestures that indicate he’s not just making conversation.

Audrey’s spine straightens, her chin lifting in that defiant way I’ve seen before, but there’s something desperate about it now. Like she’s fighting a losing battle.

Ben’s fist connects with Thompson’s jaw, a perfect strike that sends his opponent crashing to the canvas. The sound of impact echoes through the arena even over the deafening roar of the crowd.

The referee waves his arms, calling the fight. Ben raises his fists in victory, blood from his opponent’s face speckling his gloves. The crowd explodes, on their feet, screaming his name.

“Holy shit,” Marcus shouts over the noise. “He actually did it.”

Ben circles the ring, acknowledging each section of the crowd. When his eyes find mine, he points directly at me, that cocky grin spreading across his face. I manage to nod back, forcing a smile I don’t feel.

My gaze drifts up to Vega’s private box. The bastard is on his feet, clapping enthusiastically, his face lit with the satisfaction of a man who just made a fortune. His investment in Ben is about to pay off big time.

But Audrey remains seated, her applause mechanical, her face pale as paper. As I watch, Vega leans down and says something in her ear. Whatever it is makes her entire body go rigid. She turns to look at him, and even from here I can see the fear in her posture.

Then, she does something that makes my blood run cold. She looks directly at me for the first time all night, and the expression on her face is pure terror.

Our eyes lock across the arena, and at that moment, I know. Something’s gone wrong. Badly wrong. She’s trying to tell me something without words, trying to warn me, but before I can process what I’m seeing, Vega’s hand lands on her shoulder.

The contact makes her flinch visibly, but she doesn’t pull away. Can’t pull away. She turns back to face forward, her mask sliding back into place, but it’s too late. I’ve seen the truth.

“Reign.” Marcus grabs my arm, his voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. “What’s wrong?”

I can’t take my eyes off the box. Vega’s hand is still on Audrey’s shoulder, possessive and threatening. He’s saying something else to her, his mouth close to her ear, and I watch her nod once, sharply.