21. Wraith
Chapter 21
Wraith
T he abandoned warehouse stinks of blood and old sweat.
The place dubbed “The Cage” is a furnace tonight.
Rust creeps up the beams.
Broken windows let the cold in.
The cage rattles as another fighter hits the mat, the sound swallowed by the roar of the crowd packed shoulder to shoulder around the makeshift ring.
I lean against the back wall. Hood up. Arms crossed. Trying—and failing—not to think.
Shouldn’t have come tonight.
But sitting in the dark, drunk and haunted, was worse.
Footsteps scuff the concrete.
I don’t look up.
Don’t have to.
S drops down beside me, cracking his knuckles like he owns the place .
“You look like shit,” he says, not even bothering to sound concerned.
“Rough night,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.
S eyes me. Long. Measuring.
He doesn’t ask.
Smart man.
“You still better win,” he says, tossing a mouthguard into my lap.
I catch it without looking.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
S snorts a laugh, standing.
“Wouldn’t want you getting that pretty face smashed in before you finish getting your problems figured out.”
The metal cage door creaks open.
I push off the wall.
Move toward the ring.
“Oh yeah, and how’s your door-slamming problem going?”
S grits his teeth and glares at me.
I laugh, hopping up through the door.
“That’s what I thought.”
The ref shouts something.
I don’t hear it.
All I hear is the hollow, gnawing rage trying to crawl out of my chest.
The crowd blurs.
Noise becomes static.
Everything narrows.
And then?—
I feel her before I see her.
That electric buzz at the edge of my spine .
The warning hum that means trouble just fucking walked in.
When I glance toward the crowd, she’s already there?—
Making her way through the throngs of people, grinning like a goddamn menace.
Eyes bright with something wild.
She went extra psychotic with the face paint tonight.
More jester than mime.
But fuck me if she doesn’t have that Harley Quinn-sex-on-crazy-legs vibe going for her.
She winks.
Subtle. Deadly.
Fucking hell.
The bell rings.
The guy across from me lunges.
I break his nose with the first punch.
Blood spatters the floor.
The crowd roars.
Somewhere in the chaos, I catch her voice—bright, too fucking chipper.
“Break his face, lover boy!”
Christ.
The fight barely registers.
Fists. Bone. Blood.
Instinct.
I could end this asshole in thirty seconds.
But muscle memory drags it out.
Until I hear it.
A sharp cackle from the edge of the crowd.
I risk a glance past my opponent’s shoulder.
There she is. In the thick of it.
Neri.
Not paying attention to the fight in the cage.
Not when she can pick one outside of it.
Grinning like she’s about to take on the whole damn world.
Some idiot tries to grab her.
She twists out of it, laughing, shoving him backward so hard he crashes into the barricade.
The crowd roars louder.
Not for me.
For her.
Of course.
Of-fucking-course.
I refocus.
Snarl.
Drop the guy in front of me with a brutal right hook to the temple.
Fast.
Efficient.
Necessary.
Not because I’m worried about her.
No. It’s all the fucking assholes in here I’m worried about.
The guy hits the mat hard.
Doesn’t get up.
The ref calls it.
I wipe the blood off my knuckles and glance at S, who gives a low, satisfied grunt.
Already moving toward her.
Already bracing for whatever fresh chaos she’s about to unleash next.
But before I can even step out of the cage? —
She’s already climbing in.
Fucking Neri.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, like this is a goddamn trampoline park instead of a bloodsport arena.
“My turn!” she chirps.
The guy she cuts in front of—a thick-necked asshole already half-drunk—shoves forward.
“Hey! Wait your fucking turn, bitch.”
Neri tilts her head, all faux innocence.
“I mean…I did get here first.”
She flashes a sweet, vicious smile.
“You’re just slow. Not my fault.”
The guy squares up, puffing out his chest.
“You gotta be on the list.”
She bats her lashes.
“Aw. Poor baby. Maybe next time you’ll move your fat ass faster.”
I lean against the cage, watching the chaos unfold like a man witnessing a slow-motion car crash.
And relishing every minute of it.
Drama king.
He steps up beside me, folding his arms across his chest.
“So,” he drawls, “that’s one of your problems?”
“Yup,” I mutter, deadpan.
He huffs a short, amused breath.
“Terrifying.”
“You have no idea.”
The guy tries to appeal to S, who couldn’t give two shits about what goes on here.
He barely organizes it.
“You gonna get this crazy bitch outta here or what?”
S grins, slow and mean.
“You heard the lady,” S says. “Don’t like it? Fight her for it.”
Neri beams at him.
All teeth and mischief.
Fucking psychotic.
Like she just found a new best friend.
The guy doesn’t back down.
Doesn’t laugh it off.
He steps closer—shoulders squared, posture loose and mean.
Stone-cold, and worse?—
He looks at her with hunger.
I have to hold myself back, knowing she’d be pissed if I stepped in for her.
“I’ll fight you, sweetheart,” he says loud enough to make sure the whole place can hear him.
“And when I win,” he looks her up and down, licking his lips, “I’m gonna take you home, tie you to my bed, fuck you till your tears wash away every smudge of your fucked up make up. Then I’ll let my buddies have a go.”
My fingers curl into fists before I even know what I’m doing. Only thing that stops me is the iron knowledge she’d tear my throat out herself if I stepped in now.
The group of guys standing off to the side of the cage cheer at their friend’s words.
“You sure you want to let this go down?” S asks quietly.
“Trust me, Neri can take care of herself. Besides, you think I can tell her what to do?”
The air goes still .
Neri’s smile doesn’t flicker.
Not even a little.
But her eyes?—
They empty out.
All the bright, psychotic sparkle drains away.
All that’s left is bone-deep, surgical malice.
That’s when Neri’s whole posture shifts.
Gone is the playful little chaos gremlin bouncing on her toes.
Gone is the sweet little tease.
In her place is a predator.
One who just chose her prey.
What’s left is a razor pulled from velvet.
A creature coiled to strike.
The guy hesitates.
Finally seeing her for what she is.
Not long enough.
Neri moves first.
Fast as a viper.
She feints left.
Slams her knee into his gut.
He folds forward with a grunt.
She grabs a fistful of his shirt to hold him steady.
And starts singing.
Bright.
Off-key.
Mocking.
“Hands—”
—she grabs his wrist and yanks it awkwardly out to the side, forcing him off balance.
“Touchin’ hands?—”
—she smashes her elbow into his temple.
He stumbles, dazed.
“Reachin’ ooouuuut?—”
—she drives her knee up into his gut again, hard enough to lift him off his feet.
“Touching me, touchin’ yooouuuuu?—”
—she hooks her fingers under his jaw and slams his head backward into the cage wall.
Neri bounces back two steps, hands in the air like a bloody conductor, grinning wide.
“Sweeeet Caroline?—”
—she lets him drop like trash.
Without missing a beat the crowd of drunk ass hardened criminals hit their lines perfectly.
“BA BA BA!”
The asshole tries to rise.
She doesn’t let him.
One sharp boot to the ribs.
He groans and slumps flat.
Neri cackles and throws in the final insult?—
“Good times never seemed so good!”
Neri throws them a gleeful two-finger salute.
“SO GOOD! SO GOOD! SO GOOD!” the crowd chimes, as she bounces in place.
The guy doesn’t get up.
Doesn’t even twitch.
She twirls once, dizzy with victory, before tossing a wink over her shoulder.
I hop into the cage as two of the guy’s friends are climbing in to get to her.
One of them swings a punch aimed straight at her face.
I move before I think .
Block it clean.
“Back the fuck off,” I growl.
“Come on little demon, time to go.”
Neri’s still vibrating with unspent violence, wild-eyed and grinning.
Lunging for the guys' friends.
I catch her around the waist, sling her over my shoulder like she weighs nothing.
She thrashes half-heartedly.
“Let me at ’em! Come on, Wraith! I was having soooo much fun!”
I slap her ass once, sharp enough to make her yelp and giggle.
The crowd parts as I stalk toward the exit, Neri still kicking her feet in the air. Waving to the crowd like some deranged beauty queen as they cheer her on.
S nods to me with a wicked grin on his face.
Fucker.
I kick open the exit and cool night air hits us.
Just before the door slams shut behind us, she wriggles around enough to lift her blood-smeared hand?—
And wiggle her fingers at them in a taunting little wave.
“Toodles!”
The noise of the fight drops away, swallowed by the slam of the heavy door.
For a second, it’s just the two of us in the grimy hallway.
Me—still holding my chaos-drunk psycho over my shoulder.
Her—humming a happy little tune under her breath.
I blow out a breath and adjust my grip on her thighs.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I mutter .
She grins against my back.
“Promises, promises.”
Neri hums against my back, still high on blood and violence.
I don’t say a word.
Just adjust my grip on her thighs and start walking.
The warehouse is only a few blocks.
The streetlights are mostly dead out here.
Just cracked concrete, rusted fences, and the scuff of my boots against the ground.
And Neri’s fucking humming.
She swings her legs lazily, kicking at the air like she’s having the time of her life.
A stray cat darts across the street ahead of us.
Neri meows at it.
Jesus Christ.
“Come here kitty-kitty!”
I tighten my hold before she can wiggle free and chase it.
When we reach my place, the familiar bulk of it rises out of the dark.
Walk through the warehouse till we reach my hidden staircase and climb to the top.
Home. Finally.
I shift her higher on my shoulder and fish the key out of my pocket.
Unlock the door.
Step inside.
And this time?—
I shut it quietly behind us.
The lock clicks softly.
The hums of several towers and monitors greets us .
I let her slide down off my shoulder.
She lands on her feet, grinning up at me like the bloody feral cat she wanted to catch.
Still vibrating with leftover violence.
Still smiling like she’s got another bomb tucked up her sleeve.
Without warning, she digs into her jacket?—
—and pulls out a thumb drive.
“Surprise!”
She flicks it at me.
I catch it out of reflex.
It’s still warm from her skin.
“Found our next target,” she says, tilting her head, voice dripping poisonously sweet.
Like she’s handing me a fucking birthday present instead of a potential death sentence.
“Thought we could bond over bombs.”
I stare at the drive for a second.
Then at her.
“Well not really bombs. Just couldn’t think of another “b” word and honestly bats didn’t so as… exciting.”
She pops her gum.
“I mean unless you want to play with bombs?”
Raises her brows in hopeful excitement.
Jesus Christ.
I sigh and plug the drive into the laptop.
The screen explodes with data.
Facility schematics.
Shipping manifests.
Financial records stitched together like a corpse made of lies.
Shell companies rerouting materials through a dozen fake fronts.
Hidden in the mess is the real payload:
Bioweapon distribution.
The kind of shit that doesn’t just kill cities.
It erases them.
The blood in my veins pumps colder.
If the last drive she brought me was a gold mine—this is a goddamn rhodium mine.
“Where’d you find this?”
Neri flops into the beat-up office chair across from me, spinning herself in a lazy circle.
Watching me like a cat watching a bug struggle on its back.
“I’m resourceful,” she says, voice light.
“Panic makes people sloppy.”
I click through the files.
Each screen loads uglier than the last.
Coordinates.
Inventory lists.
Timelines.
The more I see, the more the dread solidifies in my chest.
She hums a stupid little tune under her breath while I scroll.
Bright.
Off-key.
Unbothered.
Like she didn’t just hand me the kind of intel people die for.
Or over .
Neri plants her boots on the edge of the table and leans back, grinning upside down at me.
“Lover boy,” she sing-songs, “you’re awfully quiet over there.”
I drag a hand through my hair.
Hard.
Slow.
Tamping down the urge to either kiss her or strangle her.
Maybe both.
Finally, I lean in.
Point at a cluster of schematics.
“Your entry plan’s fucked,” I say, voice flat.
She stops spinning.
Tilts her head.
Eyes glinting.
“Oh?” she says sweetly.
I tap the screen.
“This section? Here? Secondary access is blocked by a reinforced blast door. Electronic locks. You’re not cutting through that with a switchblade and a smile.”
She bares her teeth in a grin.
The sharp, predatory kind.
No offense taken.
No wounded pride.
She leans forward, taps a few keys, and reroutes the plan in under five seconds.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
Better.
She glances at me sideways.
“Fixed.”
The corner of my mouth twitches.
Not a smile.
Not exactly.
More like the first crack in the armor.
“I thought you said I was better at logistics.”
She grins at me.
“I was just being nice.”
I laugh. Deep and full bellied. Which makes her grin grow into a proud smile.
We fall into a rhythm after that.
Mapping entry points.
Syncing camera loops.
Setting fallback detonations.
Weapons.
Timing.
Contingencies.
No jokes now.
No flirting.
No chaos.
Just two monsters syncing up.
Strategic brilliance hidden under blood-soaked skin.
The heat between us rises.
Sharp.
Slow.
I feel it in the way she leans closer when she doesn’t have to.
The way her breath ghosts across my jaw when she points something out on the screen.
The way she smirks every time our hands brush, like she’s daring me to do something about it .
She smells like blood and adrenaline left over from The Cage, and a kind of sweetness that should be illegal.
I grit my teeth and refocus on the screen.
Keep my voice even.
Professional.
“We hit the secondary generator first,” I say, dragging the map wider. “Kill power to the mainframe, knock their sensors offline.”
She hums low in her throat.
Approval.
Or amusement.
Hard to tell with her.
“Smart,” she purrs.
“Sexy and strategic.”
I don’t take the bait.
Not yet.
But when she brushes her fingers along the table again?—
like she’s tracing the line between patience and provocation?—
I snap.
The chair skids back.
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving.
Neri doesn’t flinch.
She tilts her head.
Smiling.
Predator to predator.
Challenge gleaming in her eyes.
I grab her wrist.
She twists free.
Shoves me, hard.
I slam her against the table.
The keyboard skitters sideways with a screech.
Her mouth parts on a breathless laugh.
“There he is,” she whispers.
I lean in, crowding her space.
She wriggles free enough to drag my belt loose.
Unzips me.
Pushes her pants down with a rough shove, kicking one leg free.
“Come on, lover boy,” she breathes against my jaw.
“You gonna punish me for being smarter than you?”
I press against her.
Growl low in her ear.
“I’m trying not to kill you.”
“Mmm. Same.”
She nips at my jaw.
I snap again.
Grip her thighs.
Lift her onto the table.
Sink into her with one brutal thrust.
She gasps—sharp, broken, feral.
Her back arches.
Fingers clutching at my shoulders like she’s trying to claw her way inside my skin.
We grind against each other?—
wild, rough, breathless.
Teeth.
Nails.
Growls.
The edge of the table bites into my hips with each snap forward.
I don’t care .
I drive into her harder.
Faster.
Chasing the breaking point.
She bites my neck.
Hard.
I bite her lip, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat.
Before I can pull back, before I can even think?—
Neri shoves me.
Catches me off-balance.
Twists.
Slams me onto the table.
Keyboards crash to the floor.
Papers scatter like broken wings.
She straddles me in one savage, fluid motion, pinning my wrists above my head.
Grinning down at me like a fucking mad queen.
Wild-eyed.
Smirking.
Breathless.
Untouchable.
Her fingers tighten around my wrists?—
not strong enough to actually hold me there,
but strong enough that I let her.
A slow, wicked smile curves her mouth.
“Whose little lover boy are you?” she purrs.
Sweet as sin.
Mocking as hell.
I snarl.
Buck against her.
She grinds her hips down in response, a dirty roll of her body that turns my snarl into a groan.
“Say it,” she pants, voice wrecked and triumphant.
I snarl against her skin.
“Not a fucking chance.”
She clamps down around me, wicked little smile flashing, halting our movements.
“Say it,” she whispers before she licks my neck, “or I stop.”
I grit my teeth. When I thrust up into her, she bites my neck. Fucking hard. And doesn’t release the skin between her teeth.
Every muscle in my body shaking with restraint.
Every inch of me screaming to finish what we started.
Fuck.
“Fine,” I growl, voice shredded raw.
“You fucking own me.”
Her grin is pure goddamn victory.
“Good boy,” she purrs.
And then she rides me harder.
Faster.
Until the whole world tilts sideways.
Until we’re both shuddering.
Breaking.
Drowning in the chaos we started.
We collapse against the desk.
Breathing hard.
Bodies tangled.
Still half-dressed.
Still shaking.
No jokes now.
No threats.
No games.
Just raw, messy being .
I bring her forehead to mine.
Our breath mingles.
Rough.
Uneven.
I can feel we both want to pull away.
We don’t.
Instead, I brush a strand of hair back from her face.
A stupid, soft gesture I can’t stop.
Her eyes find mine.
Still wild.
Still shining with that lethal joy.
But underneath?—
Something hollow.
Something aching.
I see it.
Because it’s the same fucking wreckage inside me.
“Why him?” I ask.
Voice raw.
Rougher than the broken skin at my throat.
Her body tenses.
Not much.
Just enough for me to feel it.
Voss has that effect on people.
She looks away.
Something shutters behind her eyes.
The wall slams down.
Voice flat.
Emotionless.
“He took too much,” she says.
“Not just a person, but who I was before.”
Each word slices clean.
No blood.
No mess.
Just precision wounds.
I let the silence stretch.
Don’t press.
Don’t demand more.
Because I know what it costs to cut yourself open.
Finally, I give her my answer to the same question.
Low.
Quiet.
A truth I’ve never said out loud.
“He stole my life. Took everything from me,” I murmur.
“Made me into this.”
She looks back at me then.
Really looks.
No masks.
No madness.
Just two monsters in the ruins of what they could’ve been.
And for a heartbeat?—
We see each other.
Fully.
Painfully.
Completely.
The moment fractures.
The softness dies.
Reality claws its way back in.
We untangle from each other without speaking.
Neri pulls her pants back up, tugs her shirt down, fixes her braid and doesn’t even bother with the mess of face paint smeared everywhere.
I zip up .
Roll my shoulders.
Bury the wreckage somewhere deep.
Somewhere unreachable.
We move in sync.
No more planning.
No orders.
Just predatorial instinct.
Weapons hit the table.
Holsters clipped tight.
Knives sheathed.
Guns loaded.
Data copied and encrypted.
Every movement sharp.
Efficient.
Silent.
The low hum of electronics is the only sound between us.
She usually doesn’t carry weapons but I convince her to sling a blade harness over her shoulder.
I snap the final magazine into place and shove my mask down over my face.
When I glance up?—
She’s grinning at me.
A slow, bloody thing.
Pure fucking war.
“Ready, Lover Boy?” she purrs.
I don’t answer.
Just pull my gloves tighter.
The message is clear.
We’re past words now.
We walk out together.
Silent.
Synced.
Unstoppable.
And somewhere deep inside?—
Under the armor, under the rage?—
I know.
Whatever’s about to happen next?
There’s no coming back.
Not for either of us.