Page 80 of Ghosted

Not the guy who makes the most noise.

The one you don’t see clearly until you’re already on the floor.

I stretch my fingers, make a fist, then release it. The lights beat down hot against my shoulders. My opponent steps in across from me and slams one fist into his palm, staring like that’s supposed to do something.

I stare back until he looks away first.

Smart.

My eyes move past him before I can stop them, cutting over the cage to the far wall where Alice stood the first night with her camera raised.

She isn’t there, which I already know because I checked the second I walked in like some pathetic asshole with a problem he refuses to name.

Every girl in black boots got a second look. Every flash of dark hair. Every small body tucked near the edges of the crowd.

None of them were her.

Alice should stay the fuck away from this place.

From Johnny.

From me.

I know that, but the thought still sits wrong in my chest, too serious, too close to care, and I don’t do care in a normal, healthy way.

I turn it into rules and fucking warnings.

The whistle blasts for the end of the fight before mine, and the crowd goes off as some guy hits the mat hard enough to make the cage shake.

Money changes hands and men shout. Someone laughs like broken ribs are fucking entertainment.

To a lot of us, they are.

I roll my shoulders and keep warming up, forcing my body through the motions until muscle memory takes over.

Left. Right. Slip. Roll.

Breathe.

Get your head straight.

Alice isn’t here.

So why the fuck am I still checking?

My arms feel heavy from the pool this morning, but heavy doesn’t mean tired. Heavy means grounded. The swim burned out the weak parts and left the useful ones.

The part that can wait and watch.

The part that can hurt somebody exactly how I fucking mean to.

A movement near the cage pulls my attention.

Johnny steps out of the crowd like he was never part of it.

Black jacket. His hair is still damp.

A cigarette sits between his fingers. He looks too clean for the warehouse, which is how I know he’s already done something fucking filthy today.