Page 1

Bree

A s I stood over the man’s body, beads of sweat trickled down my chin. My chest heaved from the exertion of the fight, and I stared at my bloodied knuckles in horror.

Sweet Tethys…

My mouth ran dry.

I had just killed a man.

The crowd’s stunned silence shattered into a deafening roar, the sound bouncing off the cement floor and walls. The sheer force of it drowned out everything else. But instead of joining in their excitement, a tidal wave of guilt and dread crashed over me.

As usual, the people attending tonight’s fight thrived on the brutality, craved the blood and gore to the point of addiction. Fatalities were commonplace, but never by my hand.

Not until tonight.

Unconcerned with the blood and sweat splattered across the floor, the rowdy mob rushed forward to congratulate me. Unlike at Subliminal, no roped-off ring or fae magic was keeping the spectators back.

No, everyone here was a non-Gifted human besides me. They just didn’t know I was the exception, or that an exception even existed.

Someone knelt to check the man’s pulse. "He’s still alive."

Oh, thank the tides .

The crushing weight of the near-tragedy lifted, but the adrenaline crash hit me hard. My knees shook, threatening to give way beneath me, and I brushed wet strands of my dark brown hair off my face with a trembling hand. The realization of what I’d almost done was finally sinking in.

I’d gotten careless with that last swing. Yes, I might have broken the man’s jaw, but at least I hadn’t killed him. A small victory, but one I would cling to as tightly as a barnacle to a whale.

The basements where most of these brawls took place were dingy and grim, vivid reminders of the life I’d run from—well, the second life. Flickering bulbs provided just enough light for me to wish they would stay off. Dark stains covered the floor and walls, revealing the true nature of this place.

The Gifted—as in those of us with any sort of magic—weren’t the only ones who liked illegal fights. Except with non-Gifted humans, cheating was just as rampant as police raids.

Somehow, these sites kept popping back into existence, rotating between several locations whenever one drew too much attention. Human police didn’t seem to care too much. They had bigger crimes to solve.

Brutus pushed through the crowd until he reached me. As the bouncer for most fights I signed up for, his six-foot-five frame and hulking muscles made people around him take an involuntary step back. Myself included the first time we’d met.

He rocked a shaved head that was covered in swirling blue and black tattoos, one of which was a snake slithering down his right arm. A black tank top stretched tight across his broad chest, and giant steel-toe boots promised pain to anyone who stood in his way.

His dark, narrowed eyes stared out over the crowd, and his lips were almost always pressed together in a frown. I called it RBF—Resting Brutus Face.

Using his arm to shove people out of his way, Brutus led me to a corner where I could catch my breath before the next match. His sturdy presence was a comforting anchor amidst the storm. Few knew that underneath his rough exterior, he was a big ol’ softie. At least towards me.

I grabbed my water bottle off the ground and chugged.

Yep, this was my life now.

For the past month since fleeing my home, job, and life at Subliminal—a boxing gym for Gifted folks like me—I’d scrambled to find sustainable work.

I’d taken on a few random janitorial jobs and somehow wound up fighting once again just to make ends meet.

Only this time, I fought against the non-Gifted.

The money was better than most minimum wage jobs, and I didn’t have the skills to do much else. I saved every extra penny for a place of my own someday, for me and my sister, Marissa.

Besides, fighting these humans was a piece of cake compared to fights at Subliminal. Except, the fact that I’d been reduced to brawling in dingy basements was so depressing. I tried not to dwell on it for too long.

Once Marissa finished her massage therapy school, she could start working and building her client list. Until then, our survival was up to me.

"You ready for round two?" Brutus asked. His dark eyes surveyed the crowd, always on constant alert. Ex-military, if I had to guess. We didn’t talk about our personal lives much, but old habits die hard.

Someone had moved my last opponent out of sight and wiped up the floor. I crinkled my nose. The blood didn’t bother me, but the sloppy clean-up job sure did. I had taken pride in my janitorial duties at Subliminal.

I wouldn’t complain, though, since I certainly wasn’t volunteering for this job.

The next contender was already in the center of the room, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He was a big guy, toned and muscled and with more than a few scars etched into his light brown skin. It was clear he was experienced, and for most people, he would be a tough opponent.

Just not for me.

Even without using my magic, I was stronger, faster, and healed quicker than anyone here. I was a shark in a school of minnows. The trick was holding back just enough so gamblers bet on the other guy, then wham! Winner winner, tuna dinner.

"How many more after this one?" I asked Brutus between gulps of water.

The main problem was that winning one round meant I moved on to the next, and the next, and the next until we cleared the list. Some nights, it was only two or three rounds. Other times, it was over a dozen.

I never signed up for those longer nights, though.

The money would be amazing, but the only way anyone walked away with anything was by winning all the way through.

I was sure it would be too suspicious if a woman defeated twelve tough-as-nails dudes in one night. Too many fragile egos to deal with.

As I’d done for the past ten years, I needed to stay off the radar. Especially now that the right-hand man—er, the right-hand siren of my father’s greatest enemy had shown up during my fight with Dominic.

My lungs squeezed painfully, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. While the close call with Sidon had rattled my nerves and forced Marissa and me to flee, it was the image of the Red Dragon that had stolen my breath.

I tried my best not to think about Dominic because of how much it hurt. Every inch of me missed every inch of him, missed his touch as much as his mere presence. We’d only known each other for a short time, but it had felt so right. It felt real .

I never wanted to deceive him, but I’d run out of time and options. He needed to win more than I did. His grandfather would have killed him otherwise.

"Just two more rounds after this." Brutus’s deep voice shook me free of my dark thoughts. "It’s go time."

I took another quick drink before following the bouncer back through the crowd. His bulky size created an easy path to follow through the sea of humans.

My life on land was exhausting, and I wondered more often than not why I bothered fighting against fate. Wondered why I didn’t just return to the sea and embrace the future my father planned for me.

Sure, it meant giving in to the whims of a siren male I hardly knew all in the name of an alliance, but at least someone would take care of me for a change. That was the fantasy I tried to sell myself, anyway.

But then I would head home to Calvin’s house where Marissa and I were staying for now, "couch surfing" as landlubbers called it.

My sister would laugh at something the wizard had said, while Finley, our axolotl, perched happily on her shoulder or cupped in her hands.

And I would remember why I was doing this. Why it was all worth it.

I would paste on a smile and do this all over again the next day.

The dark-haired man facing me raised his fists and smirked, appraising me head to foot. "I can’t wait to get you on your back."

I rolled my eyes. It was always the same with these human men eager to fight. They didn’t see me as a worthy opponent no matter how many times I knocked them flat on their butts. All they saw was my appeal as a woman and always considered me less than.

Oh, how I loved proving them wrong.

"Fight!" Brutus called out.

Immediately, the human fighter launched himself at me with a flurry of jabs. His attack didn’t have the element of surprise he hoped for.

I easily sidestepped his fists and shook my head. How could it be a surprise when they all did the same thing? Did none of them pay attention to previous fights?

As he barreled past me, I swept his feet out from beneath him. He stumbled but didn’t fall. Bouncing away, he scowled at me as he regained his balance.

I could end this fight in two seconds flat. One if I used even an ounce of magic. But that wasn’t the game. Not when I needed to pretend to be human.

I raised my arm to cover a yawn as never-ending exhaustion made itself known. Except when my gaze landed on my arm, I froze.

Crab on a hot plate.

Instead of my usual pure white skin, sleek purple scales dotted my arm.

What the heck was happening?

A sharp blow to my head sent me careening sideways. I allowed hits to get in from time to time so the crowd got the brutality they wanted, but I rarely got hit because I wasn’t paying attention.

But scales—freaking scales —were showing up on my arm.

Could anyone else see them in this dark lighting?

I spun away and reached for my talisman. The tooth necklace still hung from my neck, and a glance down showed nothing appeared damaged.

Only partially paying attention, I blocked the human’s next few attacks and considered the issue, my heartbeat speeding up as panic started to settle in.

If my talisman was failing, I needed to get out of here quickly.

But if I won this round, I still had two more fights before they’d let me leave with any money.

Son of a sea biscuit!

I really needed that money.

My hands and fingers tingled just before webbing crept up between my middle and index fingers.

Time was up. I needed to get out of here—fast.

I made an obvious feint to the left and let the human’s fist connect with my stomach, then my face, before I threw myself to the ground. The blows hurt, but not enough to send me to the ground. Desperate times called for overly dramatic measures.

Marissa had taught me well.

He was on me in an instant, pinning me down and leering into my face. His breath stank like rotten cheese. Ugh.

I slapped the ground three times, the universal sign of surrender.

Brutus’s booming voice called the fight, announcing the human as the winner.

Except the man made no attempt to get off me. Instead, he leaned closer to my face and grinned. "Just as you should be—on your back like a good little bitch."