Page 79 of Ghosted

My knuckles flex inside the tape.

The skin across them is already raw from warm-ups. Just the way I like it. I like feeling the pull when I make a fist. I like pain that makes sense.

I let the tape snap against my wrist and roll my shoulders, trying to shake it out.

Across the warehouse, the bookie is shouting numbers, and some guy with a busted nose is arguing about odds like arguing is going to make him look less stupid to everyone else. Cigarette smoke hangs low near the rafters.

The metal cage sits under the lights, waiting.

My fight is third.

Should be easy.

The guy across from me is built like he eats drywall for protein. He keeps pacing, neck thick, shoulders wider than they need to be, and his chest is puffed like he’s trying to impress anyone who fucking looks.

Fucking idiot.

People like him make noise before they fight because silence scares them. They bounce. Spit. Roll their necks. Slap their own faces and bark at the crowd like violence needs a fucking announcement.

I can’t be bothered to do that bullshit.

They call me Wraith because I don’t need to be loud to end up in the room with you.

Quiet is what really gets people nervous, and I like them nervous.

I step into the cage when my name gets called, and the crowd shifts around me, bodies pressing closer to the chain-link like they’re all hungry for the same thing.

Blood. Bone. Their money doubled.

Somebody’s teeth on the floor.

“Wraith!”

The chant starts near the back, rough and drunk.

“Wraith! Wraith! Wraith!”

I tune it out.

My feet move across the mat. One circle. Then another. I roll my neck once and bounce my hands, feeling the tape pull over my knuckles. My body knows what to do even when my head is somewhere else.

That’s the part people never understand.

People think fighting is chaos because they’re watching from outside the cage.

Inside, it’s simple.

Rage makes you stupid. Makes you swing too wide, breathe too hard, show every thought on your face before your body catches up.

I don’t need to be angry to win.

I need him angry.

I need him loud, sloppy, and sure he has me figured out.

Then I wait for the opening.

That’s Wraith.