1. One
ONE
WRENLY
I f you look into the void long enough, the void begins to look back through you. Five years ago, my parents died. Five years ago, I gazed into the void, and I haven’t stopped looking since. The emptiness consumed me, filled me, and became me. I am a hollow shell, a husk of the person I once was. The world around me fades into a blur of meaningless shapes and colors while the darkness within me grows sharper and more defined. It whispers to me in the quiet moments, telling me secrets I dare not repeat.
I go through the motions in life, but I am not really living. I am merely existing, drifting through the days like a ghost. People talk to me, but their words are muffled as if spoken from a great distance. I nod and smile, but it is all a facade, a mask I wear to hide the truth.
At night, when the world is still and silent, I lie awake and stare into the shadows. They stare back, unblinking, unflinching. I can feel them reaching out to me, beckoning me to join them. Sometimes, I am tempted to give in, to let myself be swallowed up by the darkness. But something holds me back, a tiny spark of light that refuses to be extinguished. It is a memory, a fleeting image of my parents’ faces, their smiles and their laughter. It is the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world, the only thing that prevents me from completely surrendering to the void .
And so I continue on, day after day, year after year, caught between the light and the darkness, the living and the dead. I am a shadow of my former self, a remnant of a life that no longer exists.
But even as I wander aimlessly, I can feel a change coming, a shift in the air. The void is growing restless, its whispers becoming more urgent, more insistent. It is calling to me. It promises me peace.
Oblivion.
An end.
Perhaps that is what I have been seeking all along. Perhaps the void is not my enemy but my destiny. Perhaps, in the end, the only way to escape is to embrace the darkness inside my soul or find someone who can tame it.
And not just anyone.
Only the Devil himself can become the master of my demons.
And once our souls inevitably collide, not even the wrath of Heaven’s angels or the fury of Hell’s demons will tear us apart.
“What in the world are you doing, Wren?” My friend Vera’s voice sounded above me, muffled by the water I had disappeared under while bathing.
I surfaced slowly, blinking away the droplets that clung to my eyelashes. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in worry.
“Nothing,” I muttered, pushing wet strands of hair from my face. “Just thinking.”
“You’ve been in here for over an hour,” she said, exasperated. “I was starting to think you drowned.”
If only.
I let out a hollow laugh. “I’m fine, Vera. Just lost track of time.”
She studied me for a moment as her gaze slowly searched mine for the truth I refused to reveal. After a lengthy assessment, she sighed and shook her head. “Alright, well, hurry up. We’re going to be late for the fight. ”
I nodded absently, my mind still lost in the void. “I’ll be out in a minute.” My voice sounded distant, even to my ears.
Vera hesitated, her concern palpable, but she finally turned and left, closing the door behind herself. I sank back into the water, letting it envelop me once more.
Fuck. The fight. I had almost forgotten.
I had promised to watch the fight between Reggie “Pain” Parker and The Bronze Devil. My boyfriend, Connor, was ranked number one in the underground boxing ring and was doing well at the collegiate level, but rumors on the street mentioned how quickly The Bronze Devil was storming through the echelon, winning every match so far, and the underground boxing world predicted that the overall middleweight title Connor held was on the line.
Which he was not happy about.
I pulled myself out of the tub, water cascading off my body as I reached for a towel. The fight was the last thing on my mind, but I had made a promise. Connor needed me there, needed my support as he scoped out what could be his most formidable opponent yet. We’d been dating for over a year, and I knew how much his boxing career meant to him—that, and becoming the next governor of New York. His father, Charles McKinley, was a state senator, and he had aspirations for his son to follow in his footsteps.
As I dried off and slipped into a black dress, my eyes drifted to the scarred skin on my back, a reminder that I’d survived but my parents hadn’t.
The faded, jagged skin was a testament to the darkest part of my life, a moment that had shattered my world and left me broken. I traced my fingers over the scars, feeling the raised, rough texture beneath my fingertips and the familiar ache in my chest. The physical pain had long since faded, but the emotional scars remained as deep and raw as ever.
Five years this Christmas.
I tore my gaze away from the mirror, lifting the straps of my dress to hide my scars. Then I finished getting ready, applying a layer of dark lipstick and smoky eyeshadow. I slipped on a pair of black heels and grabbed my clutch, taking one last look in the mirror before heading out to meet Vera.
The fight was being held in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, where authorities ignored the illegal activities that took place within its walls. As we approached the entrance, I heard the roar of the crowd, the pounding of fists against flesh, and smelled the metallic scent of blood hanging in the air.
After spotting Connor in the front row, his jaw clenched, we weaved through the crowd to reach him.
“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice strained. “You made it.”
I nodded, taking my seat beside him with Vera on my left. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the venue as the announcer entered the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed. “Welcome to the fight of the century! In the red corner, we have the fearsome contender, Reggie ‘Pain’ Parker!”
The crowd erupted in cheers as Reggie stepped into the ring, muscles rippling under his tanned skin. He raised his fists into the air, a cocky grin on his face.
“And in the blue corner, coming out weighing 175 pounds,” the announcer continued, “the challenger, the one and only Bronze Devil!”
The Bronze Devil emerged from the shadows, his devil mask glinting in the lights, showcasing his glistening, sculpted body. He moved with a predatory grace, his lean, muscular frame covered in intricate tattoos. He pulled his mask off and tossed it to his trainer. His chiseled features were set in a stoic mask, his piercing green eyes focused solely on his opponent. As he stepped into the ring, the crowd’s cheers morphed into a mix of boos and hushed whispers.
I leaned forward, my eyes drawn to the enigmatic figure. His eyes met mine, and my breath caught in my lungs. There was something about him, an aura of danger and allure, that I couldn’t quite place. Connor tensed beside me, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his seat.
When the referee called the fighters to the center of the ring and gave them the usual pre-fight instructions. Reggie smirked, his arrogance radiating off him in waves. The Bronze Devil remained impassive, his gaze never changing.
The bell rang, and the fight began. Reggie charged forward, throwing a flurry of punches aimed at The Bronze Devil’s head. But the challenger was too quick, dodging each blow with fluid grace. He countered with a series of swift jabs, his fists a blur of motion.
As the fight progressed, it became clear that this Devil was no ordinary boxer. His movements were precise, calculated, almost otherworldly. He seemed to anticipate Reggie’s every move, striking with a speed and ferocity that left Reggie reeling.
The Bronze Devil’s eyes, a radiant green, scanned the crowd before locking onto mine. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of us, our gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. Something stirred deep within me, a flicker of recognition, of familiarity. It was as if I had known him in another life, another time. For the first time in a long time, it felt like there was a light breaking through the haze of the void I had been living in for years, like the sun peeking through the clouds after a rainstorm.
Connor’s hand on my thigh broke the spell, and I tore my gaze away, my heart pounding.
What the hell was that?
Round after round, the Devil dominated, his face a mask of calm determination. Reggie grew increasingly frustrated, his swings becoming wild and erratic. In the final round, with Reggie battered and barely standing, The Bronze Devil delivered a crushing blow that sent Reggie crumpling to the mat. The crowd was stunned into silence as the referee counted down.
“Ten!”
The announcer jumped in. “The Bronze Devil wins by knockout!”
The arena erupted into chaos, some cheering for the new champion, others crying foul. Connor was on his feet, his face twisted in anger and disbelief. “That’s impossible!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the crowd’s roar. “Reggie was undefeated!”
I stood beside him, my shock slowly giving way to strange fascination. The Bronze Devil stood tall and victorious in the center of the ring, his chest heaving with exertion. I barely heard Connor, my gaze still locked on the stranger. His eyes met mine again, and a shiver ran down my spine. There was something in his expression, a flicker of recognition, of understanding. It was as if he could see straight into my soul, into the darkness that lurked within.
Vera tugged at my arm, breaking the spell. “Come on, Wren. Let’s get out of here before things get uglier.”
I nodded absently, allowing her to lead me through the crowd and into the cool night air. Connor followed close behind, anger rolling off him in waves. He paced back and forth, his hands clenched tightly.
“I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “Reggie was supposed to be unbeatable. How did this fucker come out of nowhere and take him down?”
I remained silent, my mind reeling, and focused on the intensity of his stare.
Vera touched my shoulder. “Are you okay, Wren? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”
“I know that wasn’t exactly your scene. Let’s get out of here and grab a drink at the afterparty. I think a few drinks might help you loosen up a bit.”
Connor nodded in agreement. “I could use a little music and alcohol right now too.”
I nodded and followed him to his car. The afterparty was just starting by the time we arrived, the bass thumping through the walls of the dimly lit house. Connor immediately walked to the bar, his jaw still clenched tight. I watched him grab a drink and down it in one gulp, his eyes scanning the room. The afterparty was a who’s who of the underground fighting world, with fighters, managers, and groupies all mingling together .
I made my way through the crowd, my eyes searching for a familiar face. Vera had disappeared, no doubt in search of her latest conquest. She’d find her way back eventually. While I waited, I grabbed a drink from a passing tray. I needed a strong one if I had to be at this party.