Page 5

D iamond blinked, the memory fading, but the ache in her chest remained.

Her father had been right about one thing—she wasn’t strong enough. Not then.

But now?

Now, she had fought her way into this life, and she wasn’t going to let fear take it from her.

Her hands curled into fists.

She wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.

She wouldn’t be.

She stood, shaking off the weight of the past, and faced the punching bag again.

Punch after punch, kick after kick—until her knuckles bled, until her arms trembled, until she drowned out every voice in her head.

She wasn’t that scared little girl anymore.

She wasn’t.

The past didn’t get to win.

She hit the bag harder.

“Enough.”

The voice cut through the fog of her exhaustion.

Vincent.

She barely registered his presence before he grabbed her wrist, stopping her mid-swing.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was sharp, but underneath, there was something else.

Concern.

Diamond tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“I said, enough.”

She scowled. “Mind your own business.”

“This is my business,” he snapped. “You’re my fighter. And I don’t train fighters who are trying to break themselves.”

She glared at him, but he didn’t back down.

After a long pause, she exhaled shakily.

Vincent sighed, releasing her wrist. “Sit.”

She didn’t argue. She just sank onto the bench, her entire body screaming in protest.

He handed her a water bottle. “Drink.”

She took it.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Vincent sat beside her.

“You can break down all you want, Diamond,” he said quietly. “But don’t break yourself.”

Her grip tightened on the bottle.

“You think you’re the only one who’s been through hell?” he continued. “You’re not. But you keep fighting. That’s what matters.”

She swallowed hard.

“Pain isn't a weakness, Diamond. It just means you’re still fighting.”

Something inside her cracked.

She didn’t say anything. But she drank the damn water.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself breathe.

Diamond was not okay.

Lena noticed.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t push. Just kept walking beside her as they stepped out of the gym, tugging lightly on Diamond’s wrist. “One drink. No excuses.”

Diamond exhaled sharply. Everything in her body ached from training, her ribs sore from the excessive pressure she had pulled over herself. The last thing she wanted was to be crammed into a noisy bar with sweaty bodies and overpriced drinks.

“Not my scene.”

Lena rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she shrugged, her voice softer than usual. “Fine. Then just sit with me for a bit. You don’t have to drink, don’t have to talk. Just… be there.”

Diamond glanced at her, surprised. Lena wasn’t one for quiet moments, but right now, she was offering one. No pressure, no expectations.

Diamond sighed, she honestly did not want to go back to her apartment. Luca's memories were present there and she didn't want to relive every moment again. Lena pulled her hand and led her to the lockers. Diamond changed out of her sweaty training clothes, swapping her usual hoodie for a spare fitted tee and baggy trousers.

Lena smirked as they walked out. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Diamond just grunted, but this time, it wasn’t as reluctant.

The bar was exactly what she hated. Loud. Crowded. Full of people who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. The music was too loud, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, rattling in her chest like an unwelcome heartbeat. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and something fried, making her stomach churn.

Diamond shifted on her feet, already regretting every choice that led her here.

Lena, on the other hand, was in her element. She walked ahead with the confidence of someone who belonged here, flashing an easy grin at the bartender as she leaned over the counter.

"One beer and a water bottle.," Lena said, drumming her fingers against the wood.

Diamond stayed back, eyes moving over the room out of habit. She took in the scene like she was scanning for threats—because, honestly, she was. It was instinct at this point. The clusters of people at their tables, laughing too loudly, spilling their drinks. The couples tangled up in each other in the dark corners of the room. The groups of men near the pool table, all loose-limbed and rowdy, their voices carrying over the music.

Diamond exhaled sharply.

"You know," Lena started, glancing at her over her shoulder, "you could at least pretend you’re not thinking about bailing."

Diamond rolled her shoulders. "I’m not thinking about it. I’m deciding."

Lena scoffed, grabbing their drinks when they arrived. She shoved the water toward Diamond, who took it reluctantly, eyeing the liquid for potential spikes.

"You’re exhausting," Lena muttered, clinking her bottle against Diamond’s plastic one before taking a long sip.

Diamond didn’t respond. She wasn’t here to drink. She wasn’t here to have fun, either. But Lena had dragged her out, and for some reason, she had let her. Maybe because Lena hadn’t pushed when she saw something was wrong earlier. Maybe because, despite everything, it was easier to go along with her than to sit alone in her apartment, stewing in her own thoughts.

Lena sighed dramatically. "You know, normal people unwind after a long day. They go out, get a drink, maybe even dance—"

"Not my scene," Diamond muttered, taking the smallest possible sip of her beer.

Lena rolled her eyes. "Right, because your scene is, what? A poorly ventilated gym and a barely functional apartment? Real thrilling."

Diamond smirked despite herself. "It’s peaceful."

"It’s boring."

"It’s quiet."

Lena narrowed her eyes. "You’re impossible."

Diamond just shrugged.

Lena huffed but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned against the counter, scanning the bar herself. "Alright, let’s play a game," she said suddenly.

Diamond arched a brow. "A game?"

"Yeah. People-watching. Pick someone in this bar and guess their life story."

Diamond gave her a flat look. "That’s ridiculous."

"It’s entertaining. Come on, humor me."

Diamond sighed, humoring her more out of exhaustion than interest. She let her gaze drift over the crowd before settling on a man slouched in a booth, his shirt rumpled, his drink barely touched.

"Divorced," she said. "Recently. Probably lost a lot in the process. Keeps checking his phone like he’s waiting for a message that’s never coming."

Lena’s brows shot up. "Damn. That was… actually good."

Diamond just shrugged again.

Lena grinned. "See? This is fun."

Diamond didn’t agree, but she let Lena have her moment.

That’s when she felt eyes on her.

The shift in the air was almost imperceptible, but Diamond knew better than to ignore it.

She ignored it at first. Didn’t matter.

But then she heard them.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a voice drawled behind her, thick with amusement. “Didn’t know they let pretty little things in here alone.”

Lena stiffened beside her but forced a smile, brushing it off. Diamond didn’t.

The guy moved closer, stepping into her space like he had a right to be there. His friends—three or four of them—watched, entertained.

“C’mon, no need to look so mean,” he continued, grinning. “Bet you’d look real nice if you smiled.”

Diamond’s jaw clenched. She’d heard it all before.

One of them reached for Lena, fingers curling around her wrist.

Wrong move.

Diamond grabbed his arm and twisted it sharply. The guy yelped, stumbling back, and his friend stepped forward in his place.

She kept her voice low, cold.

"Walk away."

They didn’t.

It was over in seconds.

Diamond drove her knee into the first guy’s groin, watching him drop like a stone.

Lena grabbed a beer bottle off the table and smashed it over another’s head.

One of them threw a punch at Diamond. She ducked, grabbed his arm, and flipped him onto the floor like dead weight.

The bar erupted. People shouting, scrambling, the bartender already yelling at them to get the hell out.

Diamond didn’t need to be told twice.

She wiped her knuckles against her jeans and walked out with Lena, the cool night air hitting her face.

“I told you we needed a night out,” Lena grinned, flexing her fingers like she hadn’t just been brawling in a bar five seconds ago.

Diamond rolled her shoulders, wincing at the sharp ache spreading through her ribs. “Yeah, great idea.”

She was about to say something else when she heard it—footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

They weren’t done.

The street outside the bar was bright, buzzing with late-night energy. Cars passed, music spilled from other bars, and people lingered on the sidewalks, some laughing, others too caught up in their own worlds to notice what was about to happen.

But some did.

Phones were already out, cameras pointed their way, anticipation thick in the air.

Then they came.

The first guy moved fast, a knife glinting under the neon glow of a streetlight.

Diamond barely dodged in time, shoving Lena back.

Another came from the side. She swung an elbow, catching him in the ribs, but a third was already grabbing at her.

Too many.

Lena cursed, landing a sharp kick to one guy’s knee, sending him stumbling, but it wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t a bar fight anymore. This was revenge.

Diamond fought hard—fists, elbows, kicks—giving as good as she got, but it didn’t matter.

The burn of a blade slicing her arm made her suck in a sharp breath.

A fist crashed into her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.

She heard shouts now—some amused, some alarmed. The crowd wasn’t intervening. Just watching.

Phones still recording.

Another hit—this time to her head.

Her vision blurred.

She heard Lena scream her name.

And then nothing.

***

Everything smelled like antiseptic.

The hum of fluorescent lights dragged her back to consciousness, and Diamond instantly regretted waking up.

Pain ripped through her.

It came in sharp waves, radiating from her ribs, her arm, the pounding in her skull. Every breath felt like a battle, every movement a reminder of the fight she lost.

She blinked up at the ceiling, sterile and too bright. The walls around her were that awful hospital shade of off-white, the kind that made everything feel colder.

A voice—Lena’s—pulled her back.

She turned her head slightly, wincing at the effort.

Lena was sitting beside her, awake, deep in conversation with a nurse. Her expression was tense, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. She was hurt too, but not as much.

Diamond tried to sit up.

That’s when she felt it—something warm, wet.

Blood.

Her blood.

Her arm was red, the wound open and slight blood oozing out of it, but the wound still throbbed, and she knew the bruises across her ribs weren’t just surface-deep.

The second a doctor approached, she forced the words out.

“I don’t have insurance.”

The nurse frowned, as if that was the least of her concerns. “You’re injured. You need—”

“I’ll be fine,” Diamond ground out, jaw tight.

Lena turned to her, eyes flashing. “Diamond, are you serious? You were bleeding all over the damn place—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Lena didn’t look convinced.

But Diamond didn’t care. She wasn’t about to rack up a bill she couldn’t pay, wasn’t about to let some hospital drain what little she had left.

Ignoring the sharp protests from her body, she pushed herself off the bed. The world tilted dangerously, her vision swimming, but she forced herself to move.

One step. Then another.

She barely made it out of the room before she nearly collided with a nurse carrying a tray of supplies.

Diamond immediately shook her head. “I’m not—”

“Relax,” the woman interrupted, voice kind but firm. “I won’t bill you.”

Diamond hesitated.

She didn’t trust favors. Didn’t trust kindness.

The nurse didn’t wait for permission. She just motioned for Diamond to follow her.

They slipped into a secluded waiting area, a quiet corner of the hospital away from the chaos of the ER. The elderly nurse gestured for Diamond to sit, setting the tray down beside her.

“You fighters are all the same," she muttered under her breath as she cleaned the wound on Diamond’s arm. "Too proud for your own good."

Diamond almost smirked, despite the pain. "That obvious?"

The nurse just shook her head, working quickly. "I’ve been patching up people like you for years. You all walk in half-dead, pretending you’re fine." She secured the bandage, then gave Diamond a knowing look. "Try not to get stabbed again."

No promises.

Diamond flexed her fingers, testing the tightness of the wrap, when movement on the other side of the waiting area caught her attention.

A white coat. Clipboard in hand.

The same unreadable face from years ago.

Her father.

For a second, she thought she was imagining it.

But then his eyes locked onto hers.

Shock. Hesitation. Something she couldn’t name.

Diamond’s breath caught, her pulse hammering harder than it had in the fight.

He was here. Of all places, he was here.

Did he feel guilty? Angry?

Or did he just see a patient and not his daughter?

Her stomach twisted.

Memories crashed over her like a tidal wave. The long silences. The way he’d turned his back when she chose wrestling over the future he wanted for her. The cold, clinical way he’d shut her out.

Now he was standing just feet away, the distance between them stretching so much further than the hospital floor.

She wanted to say something. Anything.

But her throat felt tight, and the words wouldn’t come.

Her fingers curled into fists.

His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to speak.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t run.

She just sat there, gripping the edge of the seat as the elderly nurse quietly cared for her wounds, oblivious to the storm brewing between them.