Chapter 3
Ember
Grabbing a roll of tape off the counter, I start taping my knuckles and wrist. I know I don’t need to tape them since I use gloves when fighting in the pits, however, when I’m training, I don’t always use gloves.
I’ve grown so accustomed to taping my hands that it’s part of my routine and on fight night, I don’t feel complete without the tape, so I use it.
Continuing to tape my hands, I try to tune out Dad and Uncle Ryan’s so-called ‘instructions’.
I’ve heard their spiels countless times—so much so that I could recite them in my sleep.
The only thing that changes is specifics about who I’m about to fight in their pits—both legal and underground.
Not that I need them to tell me about my opponents.
I watch the videos of their fights alongside Reese, my trainer, and then again when Dad and Uncle Ryan force me to watch the videos with them.
Instead of listening to their voices, I try to focus on the roar of the crowd filtering through the nearby doors that lead out to the tunnel, letting their excitement wash over me and add to my own excitement.
I’ve just secured the last bit of tape and grab my gloves when Dad gets up in my face.
“Are you even listening to me, girl?”
I bite back a sigh and nod. “Yes, Dad. Keep my guard up. Protect my head. Stay light on my toes. Strike fast but also keep my distance. Watch out for her left hook.”
I share a look with Reese over their shoulders.
I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling when I see him roll his eyes behind their backs at how they are acting.
Reese has been my trainer for almost six years now.
He moved to Thicket Grove about a year after Duncan, my best friend and a man I consider a brother, was able to get out of the same club my dad and uncle Ryan belong to, the Chrome Vipers MC.
The Chrome Vipers are one-percenters. Their clubhouse is located on the outskirts of Thicket Grove which is in the UP, or the upper peninsula of Michigan.
The club runs the pits that I fight in and the gym that I train in.
I think their gym, the legal fights, and their tattoo parlor might be the only legit businesses they have anymore.
The club is also tied to an organization that I despise to my very core.
Oasis.
I swear it’s like a fucking cult. They believe that women are on earth to please men and to do as they are told.
That they have to obey their ‘master’. That women are only here to cook, clean, and be available to the men sexually whenever they want.
Unfortunately, the Chrome Vipers believe the same damn fucking shit.
They treat the women in the club the same way.
I think I might be the only exception to that rule.
Well, me and my sister. And that’s only because I bring money into the club in a different way than the other women.
It wasn’t always like this though in the club. Sure, the guys were possessive and in a weird sort of way, they thought of the women as property, but it’s nothing like the way the club treats women now. It was more like the cherished kind of possessiveness.
When I was six and Duncan was ten, everything changed in the club.
One of the members, Scooter, staged a coup with his cronies and killed Duncan’s parents.
His dad, Snare, was the President of the club and after his death, Scooter took over as President.
Duncan would have been killed, too, if his uncle hadn’t made a bargain to train him to be an underground fighter.
After their deaths, everything went to shit in the club.
Looking back now, I know Dad was trying to groom me into that life even before Scooter took over, but once he did take over, Dad doubled down on his efforts.
Hard. I fought him though, not wanting to change or give up the freedoms I had when Snare ruled the club.
However, I quickly learned that path led to a shit ton of pain.
In the end, I pretended to submit to them otherwise I’d endure constant beatings and prolonged periods of being starved.
That is, until the day a boy in town decided to bully my little sister, Pyper.
It was a rare day when my stepmom, Rochelle, was given a little bit of freedom and she took us to the park in town. I was twelve at the time and Pyper was five.
I was across the playground when it happened, but I had heard her scared cry of pain and ran toward the sound.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough, and the boy had enough time to knock her down and kick her a couple of times before I got to him and proceeded to beat the shit out of the kid for hurting my sister.
When the kids’ parents demanded I apologize, I told them and the cops that I wouldn’t.
Why should I have to apologize for stopping the kid from bullying and hurting my little sister?
To top it off, the cop didn’t even reprimand the kid for kicking and hurting Pyper.
When Dad arrived, I thought he would have punished me for hurting the kid, especially since the kid I’d beaten up was from a well-off family in town.
However, for the first time ever, Dad had looked at me with pride when he saw how hurt the boy was and that there wasn’t a scratch or bruise on me.
That day changed the trajectory of my life.
Instead of continuing to be groomed into the perfect little submissive or sex slave, like most women that were born into the club, I was groomed to fight.
At first, it was Dad and Uncle Ryan who trained me, but it quickly became apparent that they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.
That’s when Duncan and his Uncle Marcus, or Wrench as he’s known to the club, stepped in.
Duncan has always been like an older brother to me.
Even though he’s four years older than me, he’s never treated me like a kid.
He’s been my protector since before I can remember.
Our moms were best friends, so we spent a lot of time around each other growing up.
Duncan and Uncle Marcus became my first real trainers.
It’s honestly thanks to them, and later, to Reese that I’m as good as I am.
Personally, I use the training to make sure I’ll never be late again to protect Pyper.
I know that line of thought is completely illogical since I can’t be with her for every second of every day, but I used that day as motivation to become stronger, faster.
I trained so that I could be her protector.
To take the fights on that she couldn’t, nor shouldn’t, have to fight.
And it worked.
I’ve always been quick, but now, my quickness and footwork have become a part of what I’m known for in the circuits. That and how fast I strike. Hence the name, Viper.
My appearance has also given me an edge.
While I may be twenty-two, I’m short at just five-foot-fucking-three inches, something I inherited from my mom’s side of the family.
My height combined with my fiery red hair and innocent looking face, if you ignore my scar that is, have most people underestimating me when I step into the pits.
I’ve had people laugh in my face and ask when their real opponent was going to show up.
Then I relished in the surprise on their faces when I attacked as soon as Big Mike, or any other announcer for the fights, rings the bell.
Needless to say, I’ve made my dad and the club a fuck ton of money even though I barely see any of it. If it weren’t for me needing to maintain a good diet to keep my body in good fighting condition, I doubt I’d be getting any of the money I bring in.
I both hate and love that I’m forced to fight in the pits.
I hate the ‘why’ behind me getting into fighting, of escaping the fate that would have been forced on me for being born a woman, but I ended up loving fighting.
I love the thrill of the fight. I love the feeling of the adrenaline that pumps through me as I fight. I love the high I feel when I win.
But the most important reason?
Fighting has allowed me to protect my little sister, Pyper, from being subjected to those roles as well thanks to an agreement I made with Dad and Scooter.
Three loud bangs sound through the metal door, jarring me out of my thoughts.
It’s time.
Shaking out my hands, I do one last quick check of my hands, put on my gloves, and then walk towards the metal door with Reese, Dad, and Uncle Ryan flanking me.
The music fades into an upbeat tempo with no lyrics. In my mind, I replay the last fight Luna and I had. We fight each other a few times a year and our fights always bring in a lot of money for the clubs. Unfortunately, I know she’s in the same shoes I’m in.
Reese massages my shoulders and quietly gives me tips, reminding me of Luna’s weak spots. While the stuff Dad told me before is useful, it’s also very basic information. Reese’s tips are more valuable.
A left knee that she’s been favoring since two fights ago.
How she slightly telegraphs her punches by minutely rolling the shoulder.
To grapple if I get her on the mat because she still struggles with her grappling.
The crowd roars and I know that Luna will be taking her place in the pit right about now.
A few moments later, the beat changes outside and my excitement ratchets up.
The doors open and the roar of the crowd hits me full force as I walk out into the tunnel.
The pit is a bit lower than the stands and there’s a wire ‘cage’ for lack of a better word preventing those in the crowd from getting into the pits or throwing something into them.
“You got this, Kid,” Reese tells me before he, Dad, and Uncle Ryan step into the section for managers and trainers.
I tilt my head in acknowledgement at him before walking forward until Luna and I are a few feet apart.
Big Mike is circling the pits, getting the crowd even more excited.
My gaze roams over Luna’s body while he talks, cataloging the fading bruises she tried to hide with makeup and how she carries herself while she does the same to me.
She stands a little over a head taller than me and her body is a bit bulkier than mine.
Despite her being taller and bigger than me, I know she’s quick on her feet. Thankfully, I’m quick as well.
“Are you ready?” Big Mike yells into his microphone. “In one corner, we have Luna! And in the other, we have our very own, Viper!”
I fight not to roll my eyes at the name Dad gave me.
Naming me ‘Viper’ is just another way of tying my life to the Chrome Vipers MC.
I know I could get out like Duncan did a few years ago, but I stayed to protect Pyper.
As long as I fight and keep bringing in money for the club, our agreement is that they keep their fucking hands off her.
She gets to be a normal kid rather than being groomed for the club’s and Oasis’ goals.
Luna and I tap fists and I drop into my fighting stance.
“Fight!” Big Mike yells as he rings the bell.
I dart forward, landing a few jabs to her ribs before dancing back out of range.
Her fist just barely misses me and frustration flares in her amber eyes.
We repeat our dance, trading blows, each of us trying to gain the upper hand.
The blows she’s managed to land on me hurt, but the pain fuels my attacks.
I hit back harder and faster, just like my namesake.
After a few minutes, Luna stumbles when I land a blow to her leg, right by her bad knee, and I take the chance to strike.
Her eyes widen in surprise right before my roundhouse kick connects and her eyes roll back as her body drops.
I follow her body down and latch onto her like a monkey, preventing her from moving while also getting into position to do a chokehold in case the hit only stunned her. However, she remains limp in my arms.
A few seconds later, Big Mike calls the fight. I jerk my arms away from her and am relieved to see her chest still rising and falling. That’s my one fear with fighting this hard.
That I’ll accidentally kill someone.
Especially when I know a lot of my opponents are forced into fighting like me.
The pit fights require a knockout or a tap out, though to my knowledge, no one in the same shoes as me has ever tapped out.
Reason being is that most of the fighters belong to a club in some way and the penalty for tapping out, especially for the clubs like the Chrome Vipers, is severe.
Dad and Uncle Ryan have repeatedly threatened that I’d be beaten within an inch of my life and then sold to some sick fuck if I ever tapped out.
The crowd roars as I get to my feet and Big Mike declares me the winner.
I look out into the crowd and my gaze locks on warm, chocolate brown eyes that are laser focused on me.
The man’s hair is a bit short on top and the sides of his head are shaved.
He’s got tattoos on the shaved sides of his head as well as his face, neck, and arms. Fuck, the man is sexy as all hell and I have to fight to tear my eyes off of him.
When I do finally manage to break eye contact, my eyes widen and I try to keep my face neutral when I see someone here that I never thought I’d see again.
Duncan.
And he looks fucking pissed.