Chapter 9 - THE SECOND FIGHT
Grant ran when Luca stepped out of the elevator.
I followed.
“Avery!” Mom shouted.
Grant hit the stairwell.
I caught him on the second floor.
He swung first.
Bad choice.
He had size.
I had eleven years of muscle memory.
I slipped the punch, trapped his arm and turned him into the railing.
“Stop!”
He drove backward.
We hit the wall.
He reached inside his coat.
I controlled the wrist before I knew what he was reaching for.
Luca arrived and ripped away a folding knife.
Grant froze.
I released him.
My hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From how familiar it felt.
Police took Grant into custody for violating release conditions and carrying the knife.
Dominic saw my bruised arm. “You could have been hurt.” I told him guilt did not make him my protector.
Grant’s arrest changed everything.
He asked for a deal.
This time he talked.
Edward had ordered him to monitor Dad.
After the accident, he monitored Mom.
Years later, Vanessa inherited the arrangement.
“She wanted updates,” Grant said.
“On what?” the detective asked.
“Avery’s finances. Her mother’s health. Jobs.”
“Why?”
Grant looked at me.
“Vanessa said she wanted to know if Avery ever became desperate enough.”
“Enough for what?”
Grant swallowed.
“To recruit.”
Dominic went still.
“Recruit into what?”
Grant’s eyes shifted.
“The private fight circuit.”
I laughed.
“You’re kidding.”
He wasn’t.
Vanessa’s brother, Miles Whitmore, operated illegal invitation-only fights for wealthy gamblers.
Former wrestlers, boxers, martial artists—people whose desperation could be purchased.
My old competition history had put me on a list.
Vanessa kept requesting me because she wanted to push me.
Humiliate me.
Test whether I would react physically.
The birthday party had been an audition.
I stared at Grant.
“She wanted me to fight back.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Why?”
He whispered, “Because Miles already had a buyer willing to bet two million dollars on you.”
