10. MADDY

10

MADDY

"Maddy, do you feel like watching brutal men fight?" Kat asks on the phone.

What an odd question. "What are we talking about?"

"Carnage."

Carnage is a fight club located past the Diggs, the guards' quarters. It's the middle territory between Ayana and Port Mrei. It's mutual entertainment where the Ayana and Port Mrei's toughest arrange no-rule fighting matches.

Before I say anything, she adds, "Raven is fighting tonight. Archer wants to go. I want to go, too. We are taking a dozen security guards, besides the ones who are usually on shift there."

Every time Raven's name is mentioned, I curiously latch onto the information. There is no point denying that Raven piques my interest like no other. We made a deal. He thinks that he will simply take what he wants and that will be the end of it. But I'm invested. I've dealt with men like him before, and there is nothing more empowering than bringing those men to their knees.

Since the deal, Raven is a constant in my thoughts. His steely-blue eyes haunt me, the way they narrowed on me yesterday, from a distance, when he leaned against his bike, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he watched me leave work.

I notice him around a lot lately.

He's been burned, cut, stabbed, betrayed, dragged through mud, and he came back from it. He's the worst type, whose trauma lives under his skin, but he grows a second skin so thick that nothing cuts through it anymore.

I've seen his type before—back home, among my father's men. The ones who don't have anything because they don't want to have anything to lose. They try the hardest to make it to the top, then kick the chair from under their own feet on purpose, because life for them is a rollercoaster, and they hold control. Men like that rarely value much. Even life. But they can be loyal, and they value loyalty in other people.

Raven is of average build, not much taller than me, but rumor has it that he is quite impressive in the octagon. I want to see him fight. Besides that, I want another chance to see Raven shirtless.

"Yeah, that will be a change of pace, I guess," I say coyly on the phone.

"Great!" Kat replies. "I'll get Slate to pick you up and bring you to Archer's around seven. We'll go from there with the rest of the guards."

It's been several days since Raven and I spoke, with no word from him. He is either extremely busy or cooking up some sort of plan. Or playing—I'm curious to see what his intentions are besides sex, because that one is obvious.

But he is MIA, while every evening, I get cleaned up and nervously wait for him to text or call me any moment.

Before leaving my bungalow, I check myself in the mirror.

Two years of camping out on the Eastside completely changed my habits. I tried hard to make sure that no one could put together the blonde Milena Tsariuk in designer clothes and high heels and a ton of makeup with what I look like these days—natural, my chestnut dye grown out and blended with my natural color.

The truth is I miss the old me more and more these days.

Right now, I look plain. Invisible—I hated that word all my life. Until I wanted to become invisible. Mission accomplished.

But now I think about Raven and smirk. He doesn't know what I am.

I pull the hem of my boring dress up and take it off, then kick off my tennis shoes.

My closet has several party dresses that I never dared wear. I put on a peach strapless minidress then add knee-high gladiator sandals. I twist my hair and pin it high on top of my head in an effortless but elegant hairdo, then tug one strand out and let it fall on one side of my face.

For a moment, I crave a line of coke or an MDMA. But that was the old me. Instead, I take a bottle of vodka from the freezer, throw back a shot, and chase it with a slice of lemon. The burn makes me close my eyes and drift back to the times when partying was the easiest escape. I do another shot that goes straight to my head, then another.

I'm not the prey here, Raven. But you are yet to find that out.

Before leaving the bungalow, I walk to the mirror and stare at my reflection once more. I'm not quite Milena from two years ago, but I'm not Maddy either. And just like that, with the change of outfit, my attitude is different.

Beautiful , I say to myself, sensing a prickle of nostalgia. It's been a long time since I said that.