Page 127 of Pistols & Peonies

Violet

The bass rattles the floor, thrumming up through the soles of my boots as I cut across Eclipse Underground, the place alive in a way it’s never felt before. Bodies are pressed tight around the ring, spectators already vying for the best spots to watch the fights. Liquor’s flowing freely, money easily changing hands as people place their bets. There’s a heady pulse of anticipation in the air that feels like sparks to dry kindling, and I’m just soaking it all in, reveling in the controlled chaos.

It’s perfect.

And somehow, it’s mine.

I’ve been working my ass off for the last three months to put this night together, and now all that’s left to do is ensure it all goes off without a hitch.

“Make sure the fighters for the first bout are on standby,” I call over my shoulder as I pass by a cluster of event staff lurking outside the locker rooms, barely breaking stride. “And if Bones doesn’t show in the next ten, we’re reshuffling the card.”

Heads snap in my direction, a few of them nodding in assent. No one questions me, which… still feels a little strange, honestly. It wasn’t long ago that I was taking marching orders from the staff here about how and when to get in the ring, and now, I’m the one running the show.

I just can’t fuck it up. If anything goes wrong tonight, it’s on me– so I’ve gotta do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t.

I spot Mack leaning against the bar, arms crossed as he surveys the crowd. I make a beeline for him, hoping he’ll have good news for me.

“Tell me Bones is here,” I say as soon as I reach him, a little breathless.

Mack winces at the edge in my voice, giving a tight shake of his head “Haven’t seen him yet.”

Great.

I drag a hand through my hair, choking back the panic threatening to crawl its way up my throat. “He’d better show soon, he’s on the main ticket.”

“He’s also notoriously late,” Mack says, like that’s supposed to make me feel better.

It doesn’t.

“If he’s not here in ten, I’m pulling him,” I grumble, already backing away. “I’ll have to find a replacement.”

Mack’s mouth quirks. “You could always get back in the ring, Slayter.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I laugh, tossing him a wave as I peel away from the bar.

God, it would be easier. Cleaner. No logistics, no coordination, no pressure riding on every moving piece. Just fists and instinct and the rush of it.

But that’s not who I am tonight.

I weave through the crowd, already mentally rerouting the card, trying to figure out how the hell to salvage this if Bones is a no-show. He’s slated to go up against Reaper in his first bout since almost winning the Gauntlet– which he should really thank Kane for, since he showed up and distracted me in that first round– and there’s nobody else in our lineup who he wouldn’t wipe the floor with. This whole night could be over before it’s even started.

I’m headed for the entrance to tell the bouncer to alert me the second Bones shows when I feel it– that familiar pull along the bond tugging at my chest, an instinctive awareness prickling through me. Then Kane steps inside, and his dark-eyed gaze finds me instantly.

I stop in my tracks, pulse taking off like a rocket.

His brother enters behind him, and the two of them advance in my direction, cutting through the crowd like they own it and drawing attention to themselves without even trying. Conversations dip. Bodies shift aside. It’s subtle, but it’s always there– that ripple of awareness that follows the Commander everywhere.

“Who let you in here?” I call as they draw closer, planting my hands on my hips and arching a brow.

Kane’s mouth curves in a rare smile– the kind he reserves just for me. “As if I’d miss your first big fight night,” he scoffs, grabbing me by the waist and reeling me in.

I go willingly, lifting my chin so he can smack a kiss on my lips. It’s quick, but it’s also just enough to ground me, his proximity alone cutting through the noise in my head and the edge of nerves that’s been riding me all night.

“Thank you for coming,” I whisper, a blush rising to my cheeks despite myself.

He holds my gaze, nodding once like it was never even a question. “Of course.”

Whit clears his throat loudly, and I glance past Kane, lifting my chin in acknowledgement. “Whit.”