Chapter 9 Katana
KATANA
I’m still shaking the cobwebs from that fucked-up dream when I enter Church.
My head’s not where it should be, and I hate myself for it.
This isn’t the time to be thinking about Dante’s mouth, or his hands, or the ripple of muscle when he moves.
I shove the images down hard. I don’t get to lose focus, not with Amber lying upstairs bruised and broken because we didn’t get ahead of this.
Not with three bodies cooling in a warehouse across town because we got sloppy.
We’ve been underestimating Victor Serrano, and if I don’t get my head straight, more people are going to pay for it.
I’m the last to take my seat. Quinn leans forward, steel in her blue eyes as they flick up at me, sharp but not cruel. She’s annoyed, and I can’t blame her. “Thanks for finally joining us,”
I nod, sliding into my chair. I don’t bother explaining. Quinn doesn’t accept excuses anyways.
“Now that we’re all here,” she says, “someone care to fill me in on what went down today?”
LC answers first. “We spotted a kid hanging flyers with the red-eyed snake logo on them. He knew who we were and he ran. I made the call to follow him, figuring he’d either lead us to this gym or maybe to Serrano himself.” She shakes her head. “But he led us into a trap.”
Her voice is clipped, her shoulders squared, chin held high daring anyone, including Quinn, to call her out.
Lolita cuts in. “There were three of them, we put them down. Left the kid standing so Serrano gets the message we’re not sitting back while he plays dirty in our city.”
She leans back in her chair with a quick smirk, still riding the high of it. Reckless, always. I keep still, but my gut twists at the thought of that kid, too damn young to be trapped in violence.
Quinn stays stone, her gaze moving between LC and Lolita, weighing the information. With Quinn, silence is calculated. She’s measuring strategy against impulse, the value and risk, and deciding which one we’ll need most in the fight ahead.
Then she turns to me, and in that beat, I know I’m being weighed too. Not as a fighter, not as a Tail Gunner but as someone she needs to see can balance logic against impulse, control against temper.
“We got the flyer,” I say, tossing the folded paper onto the table. It lands in front of Vex, who’s already pulling out her tablet to scan it.
Everyone watches as her fingers fly over the keys, lines of text spilling across the screen. She doesn’t take long before her mouth twists. “It’s bait. Gym name’s fake. No record, no permits. Just a number to call if you’re dumb enough to sign up.”
Scarlet Rose pushes her glasses up, “So he’s what? Cultivating a list of potential fighters?”
“He’s fixing local underground fights by forcing fighters to throw matches for quick cash,” Orchid speaks up, “But what’s his end game?”
“I spoke with Amber earlier,” Meadow says, her voice steady but her hands tight in her lap. “She thought if she played along, she’d keep the heat off the other girls. Figured taking a dive was better than bringing Serrano’s attention here.”
The room stills, and I feel my chest lock up, but I don’t cut in.
“She was supposed to lose,” Meadow goes on. “But mid-fight, she said all she could hear was Katana’s voice in her head, telling her not to fold. So she fought back. Won the round.” Meadow’s jaw tightens. “And that’s when everything turned.”
The words hit like a blade to the ribs. Amber hearing my voice in her head? That’s a heavy weight to carry. She thought she was doing what I would do and now she’s carrying the scars for it.
Scarlet Rose leans forward. “Serrano’s guy didn’t just lose face, he lost money. One fight going sideways could undercut his entire operation.”
Meadow nods. “Amber embarrassed him. Made him look weak in front of his own people. So he beat her for it. And then dumped her at our gates to make sure we knew exactly who she pissed off.”
I shake my head, disgust coiling in my gut. If he thinks dumping her broken body on our doorstep will make us back off? He doesn’t know the first thing about the Harlots.
“We weren't gunning for him before but we sure as hell are now.” Quinn’s voice carries, final enough that no one in the room argues. Glances pass, questions thrown out, everyone chewing on the same question… What the hell do we do next?
The weight settles in the room, pressing down around us until a knock on the door cuts through it. Every head turns. Church doesn’t get interrupted. Not ever.
Quinn’s brow furrows, her hand drumming on the table before she nods at Scarlet Rose to unlatch it. Nyx pushes the door open a crack. Her dark hair slips forward over one shoulder, silver streak catching the light. Her grey eyes scan the room quickly before fixing on Quinn’s irritated glare.
“Dante’s here,” she announces, her soft voice cracking. “He says he’s got information that’s only safe in the hands of his allies.”
That word, allies, lands heavy.
Quinn’s brow cocks, her chair creaking as she leans back slow. Her eyes cut toward me.
“Are we allies now?” She lets the word drag.
My throat goes dry, and I swallow hard. “Did I not mention we spoke this morning?”
“No,” Quinn’s smirk is sharp enough to cut, “Guess you were distracted.”
She calls me out, emphasizing her words. If she only knew just how distracted I was.
“I didn’t get anything useful out of him,” I admit, sitting a little straighter. “But he said he needed an ally in this fight with Serrano. I made it clear he’d have to prove himself if he wants us to have his back.”
Quinn studies me a beat too long, her fingers drum against the table once, twice, a slow tick that makes everyone else hold still. Then she nods, sharp. “Let him in.”
Nyx steps aside, and the door swings wider letting Dante pass. He stops just inside, every set of eyes nails him to the spot. This is a sacred room. Not many outside the Royal Harlots ever step foot inside.
His glare cuts over the room, taking in the round table, the steel-backed chairs, the mural of our patch painted bold across the center.
Then his gaze locks on mine and heat spikes straight up my spine.
My chest tightens, betraying me before I can shove it down.
I force my jaw tight, fists pressed against the table to keep from moving, from showing anything.
Quinn’s jaw is tight, measuring him as he plants himself at the edge of the circle. “You have something to share with us?”
He doesn’t flinch at the stares, doesn’t soften his stance, just drops something in the center of the table with a dull clink.
“What the hell is this?” LC leans forward, her eyes narrowing on the stack of black flash drives.
“Proof to put Serrano in the ground,” he says.“These are his insurance policies to keep his pawns in line.”
Lolita shifts in her chair, “And we’re supposed to just take your word for it?”
“I didn’t bring you my word.” He nudges the drives closer with two fingers. “I brought you this.”
Meadow sits forward, “Serrano is your problem. Why the fuck should it be ours?”
Dante’s teeth bare, “You think I like standing here asking for help instead of caving Serrano’s skull in myself?” he inhales a deep breath, exhaling slowly, “I just pulled my man Briggs out of Serrano’s clutches, bloodied, beaten, half dead.”
“Like Amber.” My voice hitches.
His eyes move back to me, just for a second too long before breaking contact, “That’s what you're up against if you think this is just about rigging fights. He's gearing up for something bigger.”
Orchid scoffs under her breath. Dante’s eyes flick to her, then back to Quinn. He doesn’t bite, but the tension rides high in his shoulders.
Vex, who’s been silent until now, drags the drives closer, eyes flicking to Quinn for permission. She mutters, “If these drives are what he says they are, they’re probably encrypted but I can crack them.”
“Then crack them and see for yourself,” Dante snaps, the first real bite in his voice.
The room goes still, then Quinn tilts her head, granting Vex permission. Vex picks one up, flipping it over in her palm, “Might take me awhile, but I’ll get it.”
Dante leans in. Not all the way, but enough that the overhead light sharpens the cut of his face, the blood still drying at the corner of his lip.
“He’s not just fixing fights. He’s using fighters to test the water, then dragging the best ones into an invite-only showcase for high rollers to place bets and buy flesh. ”
The room bristles. Scarlet Rose scratches her nose with the tip of her pen, “Serrano’s using the same infrastructure to recruit fighters and abduct women. The fight makes the proceeds for sex trafficking appear legit.”
“When’s this showcase?” Silk asks, her voice cutting clean through the tension.
Silk’s got her notebook open in front of her, keeping record of everything, not because anyone doubts her memory, but because she knows the devil’s in the details.
The scratch of her pen keeps time with his breathing. “I need logistics dates, locations…”
Dante tilts his head, “Word is this Saturday. Serrano will keep the location changing until the last second to keep cops and rivals out.”
Silk underlines something in her notes, taps the pen against the margin. “Vex and I will cross-check bookings. If Serrano’s secured a location, there’s a footprint somewhere.”
Dante’s gaze sweeps the table, steady and unflinching. “I know how Serrano operates because I was on the inside. We’re crashing this party, and you need me to pull it off.”
My pulse spikes. Not from surprise, we already had him pegged, but because he’s laying it out bare.
He’s still dangerous, still a problem. I tell myself that’s all that matters.
But the part of me that remembers his hands this morning, the heat of him close, that part says we’re in this together now.
Every pair of eyes swings back to Quinn. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word since he walked in. But her gaze flicks to me, then back to him, and the silence stretches until it hurts.
“If Serrano wants war, we’ll give him one. The question is, how do the two of you get inside?”
Her words are final. No appeal. No escape. Dante’s eyes lock on mine across the table. Heat coils low in my gut, part fury, part something I don’t want to admit.