Page 85 of Ghosted

The words hit like a blade under the ribs.

“And that cute little mark you left?” His gaze drops for half a second, like he can still see it. “The pretty little scratch on her tit. Very fucking dramatic of you. Naive of you to think it would stop me, but honestly on brand for you.”

My vision goes red around the edges.

Johnny leans closer to the fence.

“Thats right. I saw it, little brother.”

The whistle blows.

My opponent moves.

This time, I’m ready enough to make him regret it.

He comes in heavy, swinging for my head like he thinks size makes him dangerous. I slip left and bury my fist in his ribs. Once. Twice. He grunts, drops his guard, and I take his knee out with a low kick that makes his whole body buckle.

The crowd roars.

I don’t hear them right though, I hear Johnny.

I saw it.

She’s not walking in tonight.

Everything we did.

The guy swings again, sloppy and pissed, and I let him come close enough to feel safe before I break that illusion. My elbow catches his jaw. His head snaps sideways. Blood spits across the mat.

He stumbles but this time, I follow.

There's no sign of clean Wraith now.

No patient waiting or quiet little openings.

I still know where to hit, but there’s nothing calm about it anymore. Every punch is Johnny’s mouth. Every crack of bone is the photos he took and kept. Every grunt from the idiot in front of me sounds like it’s coming from the wrong fucking throat.

I drive him into the fence and the cage rattles.

He tries to recover, but it’s too late.

I hit him until his hands drop. Hit him until his knees give, the referee is shouting my name and bodies are moving toward us because even this crowd knows when a fight stops being a fight.

Someone grabs my shoulder but I throw them off.

My opponent hits the mat hard, barely moving and around us the warehouse goes fucking insane.

I stand over him, breathing hard, blood on my knuckles, blood in my mouth, and all I can think is that it still isn’t enough.

Because he isn’t Johnny.

I turn toward the fence.

Johnny is already stepping back.

He got what he wanted. The fucking monster is out, and now he’s leaving before it reaches him.

His grin is wide as he backs into the crowd.