THE BLACK WOLF

The first thing you heard was the cheering.

You stopped in the middle of the hallway.

It was almost midnight, and you had been trying to find the exit of the old building for the past ten minutes. The place was supposed to be abandoned, yet somewhere behind the walls came the unmistakable sound of a crowd.

You followed it.

At the end of the hallway stood a heavy black door.

You hesitated before pushing it open.

The noise hit you immediately.

Hundreds of people crowded around a boxing ring beneath flickering lights. Music played somewhere in the background while spectators shouted from behind the ropes.

Then you saw him.

Damian Cross.

He stood in the center of the ring, wearing black boxing shorts and gloves. His dark hair was messy, and his dark brown eyes were fixed on his opponent.

The crowd began chanting his nickname.

“The Black Wolf!”

Damian didn’t react.

He simply raised his gloves.

Seconds later, the bell rang.

You watched as he moved with frightening precision. Every movement was calculated. He wasn’t reckless. He was patient.

Then the fight ended.

The crowd erupted.

Damian stepped away from his opponent and looked toward the audience.

And somehow, through hundreds of people, his eyes found yours.

You froze.

His expression changed immediately.

He walked toward the ropes.

You instinctively took a step backward.

Damian pulled off one glove.

“You.”

His voice was calm, but the entire area suddenly felt quieter.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You swallowed.

“I was looking for the exit.”

His eyes remained fixed on you.

“Then you found the wrong door.”

He stepped out of the ring.

And for the first time, you realized everyone around you was watching.

Damian stopped a few feet away.

“How much did you see?”

You didn’t answer.

His jaw tightened.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

You glanced around the room. People were still cheering, but a few had started watching the two of you.

“I didn’t see anything,” you replied.

Damian let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Terrible liar.”

He reached for a black towel hanging over the ropes and wiped his face.

“What’s your name?”

You hesitated before answering.

He tilted his head slightly.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Before you could respond, a tall man wearing a black hoodie approached Damian.

“Cross. We have a problem.”

Damian didn’t look away from you.

“Not now, Marcus.”

“It’s important.”

Marcus glanced at you, then leaned closer to Damian and whispered something you couldn’t hear.

For the first time that night, Damian’s expression changed.

His eyes moved toward the entrance.

Then back to you.

“Where did you say you came from?”

You frowned.

“Why?”

“Answer the question.”

You pointed toward the hallway.

“I came through there.”

Marcus exchanged a worried look with Damian.

“Someone was asking about a girl outside,” Marcus muttered.

Your stomach tightened.

Damian’s expression turned serious.

“Did you come here alone?”

You nodded slowly.

He looked toward the hallway again.

Then he turned back to you.

“Listen carefully. You’re going to walk out with Marcus, and you’re not going to wander around this building again.”

You crossed your arms.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

For a moment, Damian simply stared at you.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“You’re brave. I’ll give you that.”

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the hallway.

The conversations around you stopped.

Marcus immediately turned toward the sound.

Damian stepped away from the ropes, his attention fixed on the entrance.

Then his eyes returned to you.

His voice dropped.

“Stay here.”

You looked toward the dark hallway.

“What’s happening?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately.

He picked up his gloves and looked at Marcus.

“Get everyone out.”

Marcus nodded.

Damian turned toward you one last time.

“Looks like your night just got a lot more complicated.”

And before you could ask another question, the lights went out.