the underground was alive, humming with anticipation, thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and something electric. the air felt charged, the dim lights flickering above the rusted metal beams, casting jagged shadows across the walls. this wasn't a place for hesitation. it was a place for violence, for chaos, for men who fought not just with their fists but with the weight of whatever demons clawed at their insides.

the second the lift doors slid open, three girls stepped out like they owned the night.

jenna walked at the center, head high, a quiet authority to her presence. noah was to her right, scanning the crowd, her gaze sharp, calculating. but it was alex who stole attention without trying.

she wasn't new to this world. she had memorized its rhythm, its rules. and tonight, she dressed the part—daring yet effortless. a low-rise denim mini skirt hugged her hips, her legs long and smooth beneath the dim glow of the underground. a white tank top clung to her frame, just sheer enough to tease but not reveal. and then there was the jacket—the worn brown leather one draped over her shoulders.

his jacket.

she hadn't meant to wear it. hadn't even thought much about it when she grabbed it off her bed before heading out. it was instinctual, the way she had pulled it on, the scent of him lingering in the fabric. but now, standing here, she felt the weight of it—the meaning.

noah had looked at her strangely when she noticed, her brows furrowing slightly as if she wanted to ask. maybe she remembered the time shehad been in nick's walk-in closet, running her fingers along the very same jacket while he had smirked, saying, fits you.

too bad.

her hair was half-up, half-down, cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. a black smoky eye sharpened her gaze, dark and untamed, walking the fine line between confidence and something more dangerous—something untouchable.

they moved together, weaving through the bodies pressing in around them. people shouted, placing bets, their voices rising in excitement as the next fight neared. the underground wasn't just about bloodshed—it was a game, a spectacle, a high-stakes addiction.

as they neared the ring—a makeshift fight space surrounded by a thin mat, barely cushioning the brutal impact of fists against flesh—alex's gaze landed on him.

nick.

he was already inside, moving with a precision that made it impossible to look away. every punch he threw, every movement, was controlled, deadly. he wasn't fighting yet, just warming up with lion, his best friend and trainer.

the moment she stepped into the room, it was as if he felt it.

his head turned, his eyes locking onto hers instantly.

for a heartbeat, nothing else existed.

his gaze raked over her, taking her in. and then his lips curved—just slightly. not a full smirk, not quite approval, but something in between. his expression flickered for just a moment when he saw his jacket on her. she swore she saw his fingers twitch, as if he wanted to reach for her.

and then, as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. he turned back to Lion, throwing another sharp punch, his body coiled with energy.

alex exhaled, ignoring the way her pulse had picked up, ignoring the heat creeping up her spine.

she didn't have time to analyze it because lion jogged over, his grin wide, his energy infectious.

"need some good vibes, man," he said, practically bouncing on his feet.

jenna arched a brow. "what are you smiling about?"

"i'm making 20k if he wins tonight, babe," lion said, nearly vibrating with excitement. "twenty grand. twenty racks." he clapped his hands together before jogging back toward the ring.

jenna turned to noah, saying something alex didn't quite catch. her focus had already shifted.

because that's when he walked in.

ronnie.

alex's stomach twisted.

if there was one person she couldn't stand, it was him.

and nick? nick loathed him.

ronnie was reckless, a fighter who didn't fight for the love of it but for the cruelty of it. he liked hurting people. liked proving something, though alex wasn't sure what. he had a particular hatred for nick—an old rivalry, one steeped in bruised egos and unfinished wars.

ronnie's eyes found her instantly, and his smirk was slow, taunting. he winked, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

alex didn't hesitate. she rolled her eyes, feigning a gag of disgust before turning away.

"dickhead," she muttered under her breath.

nick saw.

he had been watching.

and just like that, his entire demeanor changed.

his stance shifted, his muscles tensed. alex knew that look.

he was pissed.

the referee called them forward.

nick and ronnie stepped to the center of the ring.

they were supposed to touch fists before the fight.

but the second their hands met, ronnie struck.

( © SOLXSTRS 2025 )