7. Eli

Chapter 7

Eli

T he place was ritzy, with table reservations and one of those snooty hosts at the front who looked at you like you didn’t belong. Like all places, Phoenix managed to have sections where the rich liked to separate themselves away from the less fortunate. Restaurants were always one of the places where you could see the great class divide. The inevitable slide where the amount of money in your wallet made the difference. Too bad their food was shit.

When we were kids, we’d dream of a day we could eat somewhere like this. All the people sitting at tables with plates full of their fancy food, with people putting actual napkins in their laps. It had seemed the pinnacle of wealth to us .

“Can I help you, sir?” the ma?tre d' asked, his question tinged with disdain as he examined my tattoos, making it more than evident that he disapproved. He didn’t dare say anything to me.

“No, thank you. I see my party.” I’d learned over the years that in these restaurants, you wore an appropriate tailored jacket and a collared shirt, and you took no shit.

Moving through the tables, I ignored the other diners. None of these rich fucks interested me. It was the man in the back.

Matteo Spato lounged with his small entourage with plates spread around them as he laughed loudly at something someone said to him. Matteo lived big, but the guy was a shark. He moved through the world like it was one big party, but he didn’t fool me. There was a monster under that facade.

“Matteo,” I said, dropping into a vacated chair. “How did you know I was in Phoenix?”

Matteo texted me yesterday asking for a meeting here. He was a broker on the dark web for all kinds of unsavory things, but he liked to dabble in the underground fight scene when he had the opportunity.

He spread his arms genially. “Havoc. Nice to see you.” His voice was slick and oily, as if he thought his charm would get him somewhere. “How have you been?”

The look on his face told me that he knew exactly how I’d been. I stared at him, letting the silence stretch. Most guys like him cracked under the weight of silence. They needed to fill it, to feel in control. This one wasn’t any different. After a few seconds, he fidgeted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up with a cheap lighter that clicked too loudly in the quiet. There was probably no smoking in this fancy restaurant, but I was guessing he didn’t care.

“I have people to look into that sort of shit. It wasn’t hard to find you. Information is power.” He gave me a sly look. “I found other things too.”

That didn’t bode well at all. Some of our fight fans got itchy if we went too long without letting them have their fix. Matteo could be in that camp. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that comment, but I didn’t want to poke at it too much. He could have meant information about Victor’s death, or now there my brother was back in the picture, and that was another can of worms. Then there was Veronica. I had more to lose. I didn’t like that.

“Your reputation is growing.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Underground fights, managing the books, even stepping in the ring when the situation calls for it. A real hard-ass. You and Luther are making a lot of money.”

I tilted my head slightly, giving him just enough of a smirk to make him uneasy. “So? What’s it to you?” I had never been exactly sure what his gimmick was. Typically, we had people who brought us fighters or wanted a fight organized, but there was always some reason behind it. Was that what this was?

His smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. “I’ve got an opportunity for you. Some real money to be made if you’re interested. Got a few guys who need organizing for a fight. High stakes, lots of eyes on it. You know the drill.”

“I don’t work with amateurs.”

He chuckled, a nervous edge creeping into the sound. “No amateurs here, man. These are real fighters, real killers. You’re the best at what you do, and that’s exactly why I’m coming to you. Heard you might be in the area.”

I stared him down, my patience wearing thin. “Alright. I’ll take a look, but they won’t be the only ones on the docket.”

His face twitched just a fraction, but I saw it. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone like me, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. I’d been in this game too long and seen too much blood spilled in back alleys and basements to be intimidated by the likes of him.

“I’ve got people I answer to,” he said, leaning forward, trying to regain some ground. “Big names. They want this fight to happen, and they want you on board. You’re good, Havoc, but don’t get cocky. There’s a chain of command, and you’re not at the top.” He tried to lean back and look cool but failed miserably.

I couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled up from my chest. This guy had balls. I’d give him that. But he was a fool if he thought I cared about some suit calling the shots from another city.

“I don’t give a fuck who you answer to,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous low. “You ask me to set up a fight, and you think you’re calling the shots? No. That’s not how this works.”

His bravado faltered. I could see it in his eyes — realizing he was out of his depth. But he was stubborn, still holding on to whatever crumbs of power he thought he had. “The people I work for?—”

“I don’t give a shit who you work for.” I stepped closer, looming over him now. He flinched just slightly, but it was enough. “I’ve been doing this since before you even knew what an underground fight was. I’ve bled in those rings, broken bones, taken men apart piece by piece for less than what you’re offering. You think I need some suit telling me what to do?”

The silence between us stretched, thick and tense. I let it hang, letting him stew in its weight. I could see the fear creeping into his eyes, the realization dawning on him that he was nothing here—just a middleman sent to do someone else’s dirty work.

“If you want a fight organized, we do it on my terms,” I said, my voice cold, unyielding. “And if you step out of line, I’ll make sure you don’t step anywhere again.”

His jaw clenched, the cigarette burning between his fingers as he stared at me, weighing his options. He knew I wasn’t bluffing. I didn’t bluff, but I saw he was also out of options. I didn’t like that.

Finally, he nodded, the fight draining out of him. “Fine. It’s your show. As long as it’s in Phoenix.”

“No problem. Give me the fighters’ names. I’ll vet them and tell you who can fight.” The fight circuit was a balance. People sometimes thought you could throw anyone into the ring to punch somebody in the face. That just wasn’t true at all. It was all about the show. You needed the right balance of match-ups. I’d review his list of fighters he wanted to include, but I’d only choose a few. It was critical to pull in experienced fighters to generate the right amount of excitement and keep the pace. That meant money flowed, and people came back for more.

“I’ll need the rest of the information, and then I’ll tell you if I’m interested.” He handed me a piece of paper, his fingers steady. My reputation wasn’t made up of lies. It was hard, brutal, and dripped in blood if you knew what you were looking for. This man didn’t know half of the bad that I’d done.

I got up without another word, walking away as the tension in the room settled. I didn’t need to look back to know the guy was already scrambling to figure out how to report this to whoever was pulling his strings. It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t worried.

The truth was, I’d been in this game longer than most of the guys still standing. I knew how to run a fight, control the crowd, ensure the right people won, and get money in the right pockets. But more than that, I knew how to survive. I was a fucking expert at that.

And in this world, that’s what mattered most .

I pushed through the door, the cool night air hitting my face as I stepped outside. My bike was waiting at the curb, the only thing that felt familiar in this godforsaken place. I swung my leg over the seat and kicked it to life, the engine roaring beneath me.

I had bigger things to worry about now. Veronica.

And if anyone got in my way — they’d regret it.

T he penthouse in Phoenix I bought was nice but a little far from Veronica’s area. At the start of this whole thing, I hadn’t planned on sticking around for long. Now … well, things might be changing. I wasn’t sure what my plans were.

It was one of the fanciest places I’d ever lived, even nicer than the warehouse loft Luther and I bought in Seattle. The penthouse came furnished with sleek modern furniture, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to be comfortable. I focused on the row of monitors lined up on the desk in front of me, their screens casting an eerie glow in the dim room.

I leaned back in the plush desk chair, fingers tapping idly on the armrest as I watched the feeds.

I’d been watching her for weeks, long enough to know her routine. Long enough to memorize every little movement, every habit. Like how she curled up in the corner of her bed when she was working late into the night, or how she absentmindedly twisted her hair when she was deep in thought, or the way she coughed after sitting still for too long, a reminder of the health issues that contained to chase her.

The camera in her room caught a glimpse of her now, hunched over her laptop, typing away like she was chasing some information she couldn’t let go of. Her pale skin glowed under the dim light of her bedside lamp, her moon-gold hair spilling over her shoulders. She was wearing one of those oversized hoodies again — the one that swallowed her up and hid the gentle curves I knew were there.

It pissed me off, not just because I couldn’t see what I wanted but because it was a reminder that Veronica was fragile in ways I didn’t like thinking about. The cough, the way she rubbed at her chest sometimes like it hurt. I didn’t know all the details yet, but I knew enough to realize she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend. And that made me uneasy .

I wasn’t too fond of things I couldn’t control.

And Veronica — she was a wild card.

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the screen as she paused, glancing toward the sliding door that led to the patio. A chill went down my spine, a flicker of anticipation. She’d been catching on, feeling me there even when she couldn’t see me. Maybe it was the gifts I’d been leaving, or perhaps it was just instinct, but she knew I was watching.

Good.

The corner of my mouth curled into a smirk. I liked that she felt me, liked that I was starting to get under her skin. There was a connection between us, whether or not she realized it. Something deep and unspoken. It wasn’t love — not like that — but it was something dark, something primal. I knew what she was, and she was also figuring out what I was.

She was obsessed with finding answers about me, digging through the shadows of the dark web to piece together the puzzle. I could see how her eyes darted across the screen, and her fingers flew over the keyboard. Veronica wanted to understand me.

But understanding me came with a price .

And I wasn’t sure she was ready to pay it.

I turned my attention to the other cameras—one on the back patio, another on the roof where she’d installed her security system. She was a clever girl, but she’d missed a few key spots. Her bedroom vent, for one. The cellar, another. There were always gaps. Always ways in if you knew where to look.

My eyes flicked back to her. She was shifting, pushing away from her desk and rubbing at her chest again. That familiar cough had her wincing, leaning over slightly as she struggled to catch her breath.

Why the fuck hadn’t Natasha done something about this? How could her sister — her whole damn family — just sit back and watch while Veronica struggled?

A dark thought crossed my mind. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe, to them, Veronica was just some weak little thing they had to protect out of obligation, but no one gave a shit about her health. Not like I did.

The idea sent a surge of heat through my veins.

No one knew her the way I did. No one understood how much potential she had, how sharp her mind was, how much she was capable of. They all treated her like glass — fragile, breakable. But I knew better. Veronica was stronger than they gave her credit for.

Still, that didn’t mean I could ignore the facts. Her body was weak, and if I didn’t intervene, if I didn’t watch her carefully — well, I didn’t like to think about what might happen.

I watched as she collapsed back onto the bed, her breath finally evening out, though the coughing fit had left her exhausted. She’d fall asleep soon, I knew. She always did after those episodes but was too drained to keep going.

I drummed my fingers against the desk, planning the next step. I needed to know more about her health and what she was dealing with. The cough, the asthma, the way her lungs seemed to fail her at the worst times. I’d have to find a way to get that information — maybe through her doctor’s office. I saw that she had a sticky note up on her computer with an appointment. If she were leaving the house, I’d be right behind her.

The gifts were a start. She hadn’t thrown them away, at least not the ones I could track. She was keeping them, even if she didn’t know why. That meant something, and I could use that. She had a little box for the petals and a separate one for the pebbles I gathered for her .

Another gift. She’d be forced to think about something more personal this time. I’d bought her a delicate rose gold bracelet. Simple, understated, but beautiful in its own way. I’d made sure of it.

I turned it over, imagining her reaction when she found it. Would she wear it? Would she wonder who had given it to her, why I kept leaving these little pieces of myself behind?

A slow smile crept across my face. Yeah, she’d wonder. She’d think about me and our connection, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

And soon enough, she’d realize I was the only one who could see her for what she was.

I pocketed the bracelet and headed for the door.