Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
WIDOW
The sound of fists slamming into heavy bags fills my gym, a steady rhythm of controlled aggression. I stand in the corner, arms crossed, watching the younger girls throw their punches. I don’t shout corrections like other trainers do. I don’t have to. One look from me and they know if they are doing it wrong.
I have owned this gym with the Siren Sisters for a decade now, ever since I got out and joined with the girls. Twenty years is a long time, long enough for the city to change, but fighting never does. The teens that walk in here are looking for strength, for survival, for something to hold onto. I give it to them. This gym is more than a place to train.
It's a sanctuary, a proving ground. I shift my stance, the worn denim of my jeans flexing with the movement. My Siren Sisters tank top clings to my body. My Dr. Martin boots are scuffed from the years of use, but they were still reliable.
This gym is my second home, my second chance in the world. My freedom. Not many get that after what I did. Twenty years ago, I put a man in the ground. The man who thought he owned me with his fists and his rage. He was wrong. He thought I’d always be too scared to fight back, but he was wrong about that too.
The justice system called it murder. I call it survival.
Prison was a different kind of fight. I learnt quickly. Trust no one, keep your head down and always be ready to throw a punch. The first person to test me, I sent her to the infirmary with a broken nose. After that, they left me alone. Some women who got swallowed whole by that place, who withered under the weight of time. I was not going to be one of them. I spent my years training and strengthening, waiting for the day I could walk free.
When that day finally came, I met Junko and the girls of Siren Sisters. I just wanted to rebuild after everything that happened, and the gym was my way forward. My way of making sure no other person ever felt as powerless as I once had.
The door swings open, letting in the damp air. Junko walks in, and beside her is King, the president of the Reckless Diablos. She shakes the rain off her leather jacket and turns to King with a smirk. My jaw clenches.
The Reckless Diablos were troublemakers and unpredictable. We have dealt with them before, and I don’t trust men who play by their own rules. Especially now, when I hear whispers about them wanting to expand.
I roll my eyes at the two as they chat. I turn back to the heavy bags. A flick of my wrist tells the teens to keep going. I wasn’t much of a talker unless I had to. I remember the nights I spent in the cell, staring at the concrete walls, wondering if I’d ever see the sky outside the prison walls. I remember the women who weren’t as lucky as I was. The ones who didn’t make it out or the ones who went right back to the men who hurt them because they didn’t know any other way.
I swore to myself that I’d never let anyone own me again.
I grabbed a cigarette from my packet and walked out the door. I leaned against the wall and lit the cigarette. King walked out with his cocky swagger, the man knew exactly how much attention he commanded. I took a long drag, the smoke curling around my head as I slowly exhaled.
“Smoke’ll kill you, you know,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with a challenge. I flicked my cigarette, the ash falling to the ground in a slow drift. He didn’t seem to notice the silence. “You’ve got a lot of walls, Widow. Are you sure you want to keep ’em up? I’m not one to let a challenge go unanswered.”
I took another drag, letting the smoke sit in my lungs longer than I should’ve, the burn a quiet reminder of everything I’d lived through. A subtle way of dealing with things. But King? He wasn’t subtle. Not with that grin of his and the way his eyes kept sliding over me like he was trying to find a way in.
“You talk too much,” I muttered, my voice low, barely more than a rasp. I let the last drag of my cigarette burn slowly before flicking it onto the pavement, grinding it beneath my boot. King watched me, that damn smirk still playing on his lips like he thought he had me figured out. He didn’t.
Without a word, I turned and walked back into the gym, and the heavy door swung shut behind me. Fighters moved in and out of the ring, focused and driven. This place had been mine for years, built from the ground up with blood, sweat and tears.
Junko was standing next to the ring, watching two fighters. “They signed the paperwork this morning,” Junko said without even looking at me. Crossing my arms, I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to for Junko to know how I felt about it.
“It’s not as bad as you think, Widow.” Junko sighed. “We needed the money. You know that.” I cut Junko with a look. “They are not taking over.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Yeah, yeah, I know you don’t like it.”
“No,” I said to her, finally.
Junko laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Well, tough shitm, Widow. It’s done.” I didn’t respond. Just turned toward the ring, watching two fighters go at it. My gym. My rules. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. Now, half of it belonged to them.
