12. RAVEN

12

RAVEN

I leave the octagon, and Skiba gives me a fist bump. Nothing new, except his comment, "What was that about?" He nods at my shoulder.

I ignore him. That was on purpose, because everything I do around that beautiful girl is a plan.

Skiba passes me my shirt, and as I dress, I glance at the front row, but neither Maddy nor Archer with his crew are there. I pride myself on the thought that they came here to watch me fight. So did Maddy. That's a first. I'm dragging her out of her hiding.

Good.

She looked different tonight. Gone was her flowery good-girl attitude. She looked almost like one of the Elites in her minidress and pinned-up hair. More makeup than usual. That fierceness in her eyes was unmistakable. She can deny it all, but I know she came here for me.

I check my phone. There's a message from Archer.

Archer Crone: Need to have a quick talk.

Then another.

Archer Crone: Maddy left for work.

The second message is unusual, as if Archer senses something is up with Maddy and me. I don't care what he thinks is happening as long as he doesn't get suspicious about her identity. As soon as he does, my deal with her is over.

Archer and Katura make their way over to me.

"You are good," Katura says with a patronizing smile.

I'm great, and I don't need others to tell me that.

"What's with the slip-up?" Archer nods at my shoulder cut.

I shrug. "You saw that guy."

Katura chuckles. "He looked like he could wipe you out with a single thumb."

Well, he didn't.

The audience starts booing as a short, stalky guy tattooed head to toe and dressed in boxer shorts walks past us. He snarls, pumping his fist against his open palm. The new fight is about to start, but I'm not interested. Carnage is an exercise for me. I never bet and only watch the fights between notorious fighters to see if any of them are worthy future opponents.

"I wonder if any of Butcher's men are here," Archer says, scanning the crowd. More than ever before, his guards constantly survey the crowd, too.

"I wonder why you are jeopardizing your safety by coming here," I respond, doing the same.

"To make a statement."

"Probably not a good time to do that."

He returns his gaze to me. "Even more so for you."

We both smirk. Yeah, cocky. That we are. It's hard to admit that someone becomes a threat. It's even harder to admit that you might be afraid. Instead, you become reckless. Except, this area is surveilled through cameras and dozens of guards. Butcher would have to sacrifice a lot of his men to take a chance of attacking us here.

"All right, we are taking off. You good?" Archer asks.

"I'm fine."

Archer nods at my shoulder. "You need to get that checked at the medical center."

"I'm fine."

"Suit yourself. Maddy just left for work. She's picking up a late shift. She is good with wounds." He smiles, his knowing stare boring into me.

So is Katura's. "Ready, babe?" Katura rubs her palm on Archer's forearm.

It's a tiny change in his posture, but a change nevertheless, like his body relaxes at her touch. Even his gaze softens—a miracle truly. But women have that magic over men. Archer's gaze is almost encouraging as he gives me a little nod. "Get your wound treated. I'm surprised you even got one."

Ain't that the truth. Except I let my opponent hurt me intentionally, in the most harmless but visually disturbing way. For Maddy to see. For her to care . And the pretty girl—surprise-surprise—is picking up a late shift that wasn't on her schedule.

Two minutes later, the wind is blasting in my face as I zoom on my bike out of the Carnage parking lot and through Ayana's main entrance, where Skiba and another guard, who followed me, part ways with me. Their job is done for tonight. Mine is just starting, and my body tingles with anticipation as I park my bike at the medical center.

The night Maddy and I made a deal, my adrenaline shot up like fireworks. I'd been watching Maddy for a while, trying to figure out how to get my hands on her. She intrigued me, and then I learned who she was.

Her agreeing so easily was a win-win. But then I realized that for me to get a full Gestalt on this situation, I need more than her spreading her legs for me. I've never forced myself onto a woman. I like it when a woman is invested. And Maddy will be. It's just a matter of time.

Angelica, the mayor's daughter I dated back on the mainland, was a fun girl. She liked to be fucked hard, straight, anal, slapped—on request, of course—spanked, gagged, strangled, tied. She brought her girlfriend into our thing a couple of times. And while she went through kinks like a starving person in a buffet, I went along and learned what I liked, but mostly, what I didn't like in sex.

It became a revelation that while, in theory, I was curious and turned on by pretty much anything and everything sex-wise, in reality, I was a very conservative guy. I learned one truth about people and sex. Some are into the physical aspect of it, like going to a gym—the harder the workout, the more serotonin is pumped into your brain, giving you a feeling of being rewarded. Archer explained it to me once.

To others, though, sensuality is the key. Those don't need serotonin. They want their senses heightened. Like during a meditation. Like being on LSD. Or having the most delicious dessert. Or listening to your favorite song.

You see, for some, sex is an exercise. For others, it's a sensation.

I don't need more exercise. What I need after Carnage is a soft touch and seeing compliance in the pretty browns of the most secretive girl on Zion. And as I get off the bike, my body is already anticipating seeing Maddy—like taking a chill pill after a long day of work.

For a minute, I stand outside the hospital entrance and smoke, teasing myself. I like this feeling. Anticipating her .

The hallway is cool when I walk in. The receptionist knows me and has been to one of my fights, in fact.

"I'll get someone to look at your wound," she says with unusual eagerness, biting her lip to hide a smile but avoiding looking at me. She picks up the phone and says something into the receiver.

I don't request Maddy. I'm waiting to see where this goes, whether my instinct was right.

Doctor Hodges walks out into the hall, studying a chart in his hand, then raises his brows when he notices me.

"Mr. Levi." He checks his watch and nods, returning his eyes to me over his glasses.

Doc was brought to Zion with his wife and four nurses right after the Change. Specialty surgeons are on call. We can fly them in within several hours. In case of emergency, we contact the ones in Port Mrei. They are retired ex-pats and alcoholics, but they do the job.

But Doctor Hodges is a miracle worker. Doc knows why I'm here, too. It's not my first time. He also puts in many requests for specialty medications that need a long time for approval whereas I can wiggle through my connections on the mainland and get it done faster. He is also the only one on Zion who I let call me by my name.

Right now, Doc gives me a quick up-and-down look. "From Carnage?"

I nod.

"Anything serious or just a check-up?"

"Just a check-up."

That's when I get another little cue. The receptionist jumps up from her seat too eagerly. "It's all right, Doctor, Maddy will take him."

Doc looks surprised for a second. "She's here tonight? She needs to work fewer shifts before she runs herself into the ground."

I agree.

The receptionist smiles shyly. "Maddy will take care of him."

"Maddy will take care of me," I repeat, inwardly cheering.

"Hmm." Doc studies me again, his kind gaze puzzled.

"She will take you in room eight," the receptionist tells me, interrupting the silence.

Maddy will take me anywhere I want, I say to myself as I start walking down the hall.