Chapter 15 Katana
KATANA
The slam of the door still rattles through the walls long after Dante’s footsteps fade. I stand there in the silence, leaning against the dresser, ribs aching, fury chewing through me worse than the pain in my side.
Trust me, Maya, he said.
He leaves my bed in the middle of the night then waltzes back in here throwing wild accusations in my face and asks me to trust him over my club, my family? What the hell?
My fists curl tight at my sides. He doesn’t get to cut me open and then stay to watch me bleed out.
I drag myself upright, every muscle screaming mutiny.
Pain arcs sharp across my side and I bite it down.
I won’t lie here like some wounded thing while the ground shifts under my feet.
If he’s right, if there’s rot in my club, it’ll be me that finds it. Not him.
The pull across my side is white-hot, sharp enough to make my knees buckle.
My hand catches the dresser before I go down.
Sweat breaks quick along my spine, dampening the back of my tank.
I stay there, hunched, waiting for the throb to settle into something I can manage. It doesn’t. But I shove it down anyway.
I should still be in bed, but the thought of staying down feels worse than the ache gnawing at my ribs. It’s already been four days lying there while the world keeps spinning without me.
I need air. I need movement. I need to remind myself I’m not broken.
My cut hangs from the hook by the door. I don’t bother putting it on.
I’m not ready for the added weight yet. Instead, I move slowly down the hall.
Each step is careful, measured, but even then my ribs scream with every shift of muscle.
By the time I make it to the gym, I’m shaking.
The scent of sweat, steel, and disinfectant hits like home.
I lean against the row of weights until my breathing evens out.
The girls are in the ring, sparring two at a time.
Gloves crack against pads, sneakers squeak on canvas, grunts echo off the walls.
Riot’s at the ropes, her voice sharp, steady, cutting through the noise.
I pull my arms across my chest, ignoring the pull in my ribs, and watch.
I try to sink into the rhythm of their movements, to let it remind me who the fuck I am.
But my focus slips, scattered by the pounding in my skull.
“Keep your guard up. Don’t just swing, think. Watch her shoulders, she’ll tell you what’s coming before she throws it.”
One of the girls stumbles and Riot’s already there, tugging her back up, fixing her stance with a hand on her shoulder. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no cruelty in her tone, just the kind of tough love that built this gym. She’s confident, commanding, the same as she’s always been.
My chest tightens watching it. This is Riot.
The woman who’s patched me up after fights, who’s laughed in the face of men twice our size, who’s bled beside me without hesitation.
My sister in every way that counts. And yet, Dante’s voice keeps crashing through my thoughts, raw and relentless: She’s a leak.
I don’t want to believe it. Every part of me wants to tear the thought out by the root.
But doubt’s a poison, and it’s already in my blood now.
Needing a distraction, I head for my office.
My ribs scream with the movement, but it’s nothing compared to the shame boiling in my gut.
The office door’s cracked when I get there, I nudge it open and stop in the frame.
Quinn and Lady Cain are hunched over the desk, papers spread everywhere. Ledgers, intake sheets from the girls who’ve come through the gym. Their voices cut off mid-sentence the second they see me. Both of them freezing like kids caught with stolen candy.
Quinn recovers first. “You should be in bed, Kat.”
“I’m fine.” The lie grinds out sharper than I intend. I push into the room, ignoring the throb in my ribs, and sweep my eyes over the mess of paperwork. “What are you doing?”
They share a look. LC leans back in the chair behind the desk, arms crossed. Quinn hesitates, worrying her lip before finally answering.
“Going through files. Trying to make sense of a few things while you were down.”
My eyes narrow. “Sense of what?”
“Money’s light. Not a lot, but enough to notice.” LC says bluntly.
Quinn pushes a folder toward me. The pages are flagged with sticky notes, scrawled in her messy handwriting. “And it’s not just the money. The intake logs on the girls don’t line up. Some pages are missing. Some names logged twice. It’s messy.”
My pulse spikes, sharp against my ribs. Dante’s poison bubbling up in the pit of my stomach again. “How long?”
“A week, maybe longer. We only caught it because we were filling in while you were down.” Quinn’s voice is steady, but her eyes are tight at the edges.
My jaw grinds until it aches, I already know the answer but I want so badly to be wrong. “Whose been in here?”
“Me, LC… Riot.” Quinn answers, hesitating a moment before continuing, “And before that you.”
The sound of Riot’s name is a punch straight to the gut. Dante’s voice slices through me: She’s a leak.
Guilt, frustration, anger crash into me from all sides. I force my tone steady. “And you’re telling me you think Riot’s behind this?”
“We’re not saying that,” Quinn says quickly, too quickly. “We’re saying something’s off, answer noticed it while you were laid up.”
Lady Cain adds, “We can’t ignore it.”
I shake my head, too hard. “No. Riot wouldn’t.”
“We’re not saying she did,” LC cuts in, calm but firm. “We’re saying it has to be someone. I know what I’ve done for this club. Quinn’s our damn President. Can you say the same for Riot without a shadow of doubt?”
The fury comes fast, burning through the fog in my chest but I can’t say yes, no matter how badly I want to. Dammit Dante.
Quinn’s eyes soften, “Kat, we’re trying to figure this out before it gets worse. With everything you’ve been through, we didn’t want you to worry until we had more than suspicion.”
The silence stretches. My fists clench until my knuckles ache. I want to rip the thought out of the air, burn it down before it sticks. But it’s too late. Dante’s words are there, ringing louder with every second, poisoning me.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” I rasp, my voice low but sharp enough to cut. The words taste like betrayal in my mouth.
“Believe what?” Quinn asks, clearly picking up on my shift.
I spin for the door, every step dragging fire across my ribs. We need to know. I need to know. The sound of the chair legs scraping back tells me they’re right behind me. They damn well better be.
The three of us move in silence, our steps echoing against the concrete as we cut through the gym toward the locker room. My ribs throb with every step, but I keep my shoulders squared, my jaw locked. If I falter now, Quinn and LC will see it. Riot will see it. And I can’t let that happen.
Riot’s locker waits at the end of the row. My hand hovers over the lock. For a second I can’t breathe. The lock’s nothing. I know the trick. A twist, a tug, and it clicks free. The door creaks open.
Quinn breaks the silence, her voice low. “Kat… maybe we wait. Talk to her first.”
“No.” The word scrapes raw from my throat. “I need to know.”
The metal groans when I wrench the door open. Inside, it looks like any of ours. A jacket. Her gloves. A stash of energy drinks. A photo of us taped to the inside wall, edges curled with from time. Nothing out of place, nothing that screams betrayal.
I almost shut it. Almost. My throat tightens, but I dig deeper. There’s a stack of envelopes tucked inside her gym bag. I yank them free, my hands shaking despite the fire in my gut. Inside, I find copies of intake forms. Names. Ages. Addresses. Notes.
Lady Cain curses under her breath. “Son of a bitch.”
But it’s the card that kills me. Small, white, slick to the touch. A snake inked in blood-red, its single eye a slash of crimson that seems to stare straight through me. Serrano’s mark.
The room tilts. I grip the edge of the locker to stay upright.
Quinn’s voice is hoarse. “Kat… tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”
I can’t. The card burns in my hand, hotter than the knife Serrano slid under my ribs. My stomach knots.
“Fuck!” The word rips out of me as I slam the locker shut, the clang ricocheting off the walls. Pain flares sharp through my side, but I don’t stop. I slam it again, harder, until my vision blurs.
Quinn grips my arm, steadying me before I tear myself apart. “Kat?”
I shove her off, my aching chest heaving.
“Damn it, I didn’t want to believe it.” My voice cracks, raw with fury. “Dante has a source feeding him information and he warned me this morning. They’re watching her.”
“And we trust him now?”
I nod, “Yes.”
My hand shakes as I shove the envelope back into Riot’s gym bag, slam the locker shut, and relock it like it never happened. My pulse is a hammer in my ribs, each beat sharper than the wound stitched across my side.
“This stays between us.” Quinn’s voice comes out low and rough. It’s not a request. It’s a command.
LC’s head snaps up, her eyes wide. “Pres?”
“No.” She slices a hand through the air, sharp enough to shut her up. “Not a word. Not to the others. Not until we know what the hell this is.”
“What else do you need? It’s Riot.” LC’s voice cracks like a whip, conviction hard enough to echo off the metal lockers.
The words land hard. Guilt, frustration, anger slamming into me from all sides. “Or someone planted it.”
Quinn nods quickly, “Exactly. Could be a setup. It has to be.”
She rakes a hand through her hair, restless, pacing the narrow space. I stand frozen, torn between rage and disbelief, fighting the urge to tear the whole locker room apart.
“If this leaks before we’re sure,” Quinn snaps, “It’ll break us. You understand? This club doesn’t survive if we start turning on each other without proof.”
LC mutters, “Proof’s staring you in the face.”
Quinn’s glare cuts her off cold. “I said we keep it quiet. You don’t like it? Tough shit. I need solid proof.”
I swallow hard, my voice barely more than a whisper. “And if it’s true?”
The question guts me, because the only truth I can hear is Dante’s voice grinding in my head: Trust me, Maya.
“Then we deal with it. I won’t tolerate betrayal.” Quinn’s eyes pin us both to our spots, daring either of us to push back.
None of us move. LC’s jaw is tight, arms crossed, like she’s ready to throw down over this right here, right now.
Quinn’s pacing, boots scraping the concrete, all nervous energy she doesn’t let anyone else see.
And me? I’m locked up inside, coiled so tight I think I might split in half.
The envelope and that goddamn snake card are back in Riot’s bag, but they may as well be burning a hole through the locker.
The door slams open catching us off guard. Riot strides in, a towel slung over her shoulder, damp strands of hair clinging to her temple. She halts when she sees the three of us crowded in front of the lockers. We all go still. For a second, none of us breathe.
Riot blinks once, slow. Her gaze flicks from Quinn, to LC, to me, then back again.
“What the hell are you doing up, Kat?” Her eyes flick to my side, the tension in my stance. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, sharper than I mean to.
Riot’s eyes narrow, not buying it. She takes a step closer, her hand tightening around the ends of the towel.
“You don’t look fine. You shouldn’t even be on your feet yet.” Her tone’s layered with concern, but there’s something beneath it, something strained.
Quinn clears her throat. “That’s what we told her.”
Riot flashes a glance to her locker. It’s only a flicker, but I catch it. She forces her eyes back on me, her lips pressing tight. “What’s going on?”
LC crosses her arms, staying silent. The weight of the air in the room shifts, heavy enough to choke.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Quinn says, her voice clipped.
Riot’s jaw ticks. She lingers a beat too long, her gaze skating between us.
“Right.” Her voice is steady, but her shoulders stiffen as she adjusts the towel, her movements tighter than usual. “Guess I’ll hit the showers then. Don’t push yourself too hard, Kat.”
She turns a little too fast and slips out of sight, leaving the silence jagged in her wake. The sound of running water follows moments later.
Quinn swears low. LC exhales hard through her nose. But me? I can’t shake the look in Riot’s eyes like she was guilty.
And it’s that look that guts me worse than the evidence.