Chapter 39 CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 39
NARRATOR
Aaron Levi didn’t look angry.
He never did.
His expression stayed perfectly calm, perfectly composed — the kind of calm that made grown men step out of his way without thinking.
But inside?
Inside, he was a bomb with a broken timer.
He sat on the hood of his car in the faculty lot, staring at the ground, jaw locked so tightly he could’ve cracked a tooth. His sister’s voice rang in his ears on a loop.
You're not my dad.
Fine. Maybe he wasn’t.
But she was still his whole damn world.
And someone tried to take her.
He couldn’t let that go. Ever.
He pulled out his burner phone — the one no professor, no teammate, nobody knew about — and dialed.
A man answered. “Boss.”
“Find him,” Aaron said. No greeting. No explanation. “Find the guy who tried to grab my sister.”
There was silence on the line.
“Description?”
“I don’t have one.” His voice hardened. “Check the police scanners, the security dispatch logs, the hospital walk-ins around campus. Someone tried to grab her. That means they left a trace somewhere. Find him.”
“Yes, boss.”
Aaron hung up and got in his car. His movements were too controlled — the kind that came from trying not to break something.
He drove to the place he always went when his thoughts turned lethal.
The underground ring.
It wasn’t on school grounds. Wasn’t something students openly talked about. But everyone knew it existed — a place where fists replaced therapy and rules didn’t exist.
When Aaron stepped inside, the noise lowered by half.
Conversations cut.
Eyes followed him.
Part fear, part respect.
He ignored them all, tossed his jacket onto a chair, and climbed into the private cage at the side.
No referee.
No opponent.
Just a punching bag.
He hit it once.
Twice.
Hard.
Harder.
Soon his knuckles were raw, swelling. Sweat dripped down his temples. Every blow echoed through the metal frame.
Minutes blurred into hours.
He didn’t stop until his arms shook.
A phone buzzed in his pocket.
He snatched it up on instinct.
“Talk.”
“We found him,” the man said. “ID matches a guy you beat up last semester. Campus creep. Filming girls. He tried it again near the business building. Got caught running.”
Aaron’s jaw cracked.
“Where is he now?”
“We have him.”
“Take him to the warehouse. Don’t touch him until I get there.”
“Yes, boss.”
Aaron ended the call and grabbed his jacket—
And froze.
Because Maya was standing right outside the cage.
Small, cute, innocent-looking Maya.
Completely out of place in a place full of blood, sweat, and men twice her size.
She gave a tiny wave. “Hey.”
Aaron stared like she’d sprouted three heads. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
She scratched her cheek. “Uh… visiting someone?”
“In here?” He gestured around at the cages, the fighters, the illegal betting ring. “This place?”
She shrugged, smiling nervously. “I know a guy. He works the front.”
Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “Are you owing someone.”
“No,” she said immediately. Too immediately.
He stepped out of the cage. “How much?”
“I said no!”
“Maya.”
His voice dropped — quiet, steady, lethal.
The voice that made grown men confess their sins.
She swallowed. “I’m… not… owing…”
“Maya.”
She cracked like glass. “Twenty thousand dollars.”
Aaron felt his entire soul snap. “To who?”
She pointed weakly.
“To him. The guy in the black hoodie. Don’t— don’t do anything rash, please—”
But Aaron was already walking.
Everyone in the ring parted for him like water.
The man Maya pointed to was leaning against a post, counting cash. He looked up when Aaron stopped in front of him.
“You owe me?” the guy asked, smirking. “Or is it your girlfriend—”
Aaron slammed his phone screen against the guy’s chest.
The man stumbled. “Hey—!”
Aaron scanned the QR code pinned to the board. His bank app opened. Zero hesitation.
He wired $20,000 in less than ten seconds.
The guy blinked in disbelief as his notification dinged.
“What— why would you—”
Aaron’s eyes lifted.
“You’ll never speak to her again.”
The guy paled. “I— yeah— yes— understood—”
Aaron leaned in slightly. “If I ever see you near her, I won’t just erase your debt. I’ll erase you.”
The man nearly dropped his phone. “Message received.”
Aaron turned away without another word and grabbed Maya’s wrist. “We’re leaving.”
She stumbled after him, tears already in her eyes. “Aaron— wait— I didn’t want you to— I didn’t ask—”
“I don’t care,” he muttered, dragging her out of the ring. “You don’t owe anybody anything anymore.”
When they got outside, she finally broke.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Aaron stopped, turned, and put both his hands on her shoulders.
She sniffled. “Why did you even help? I’m not even—”
“Because you matter.”
Her breath hitched.
She stared at him like she wasn’t sure she heard right.
Aaron looked away. “Let’s get you back to campus.”
“O-okay.”
He opened the passenger door for her and waited until she was settled before shutting it gently.
Then he got in, revved the engine—
And drove to the school . Immediately after dropping off Maya, he headed straight toward the warehouse.
Aaron killed the engine, stepped out, and didn’t bother locking the car.
Two of his guys were already waiting, silhouettes against the sodium streetlamp.
“He’s inside,” one said, tilting his head toward the door. “Hands zip-tied. Mouth taped. He pissed himself twice.”
Aaron didn’t answer. He just walked.
The second the door rolled up, the smell hit him: oil, blood, fear.
The guy was on his knees in the middle of the concrete floor, duct tape over his mouth, wrists bound behind his back. When he saw Aaron, his eyes went wide, pupils blown, tears and snot already running.
Aaron stopped three feet away.
“You know who I am?” His voice was flat. Calm. Terrifying.
The guy nodded frantically.
“You know why you’re here?”
Another frantic nod.
Aaron crouched down, eye-level. “You put your hands on my sister.”
A muffled scream through the tape.
Aaron reached out, slow, and peeled the tape off in one rip.
The guy gasped, spit flying. “I didn’t—I swear I didn’t mean—I was just—”
Aaron’s fist cracked across his face so fast the sound echoed like a gunshot. Blood exploded from the guy’s nose.
“Wrong answer.”
He hit him again. And again.
Left hook. Right hook. Elbow to the temple.
Every punch landed with the weight of every second Aaron had spent picturing Yael scared in that hallway.
“You thought you could touch her?” Aaron snarled, grabbing the guy by the hair and slamming his face into the concrete. “You thought you could scare her?”
Crack.
Another tooth skittered across the floor.
The guy was sobbing now, choking on blood. “Please—please—I’ll leave—I’ll disappear—I swear—”
Aaron stood, breathing hard. Blood on his knuckles, on his shirt, on his shoes.
He circled him like a shark.
“You filmed girls before, right?” Aaron’s voice dropped lower. “Hidden cameras. Bathrooms. Lockers. That sound familiar?”
The guy tried to crawl away. One of Aaron’s men kicked him back into the center.
Aaron knelt again, grabbed the guy’s jaw, forced him to look up.
“Tonight you learn what happens when you pick the wrong girl.”
He punched him in the ribs. Once. Twice.
You could hear something crack.
The guy screamed, curling in on himself.
Aaron didn’t stop.
He drove his knee into the guy’s spine, pinned him flat, and rained blows down the back of his head, his neck, his shoulders.
Blood pooled under the guy’s face. His breathing turned wet, gurgling.
One of the men stepped forward. “Boss… he’s done. He’s not getting up.”
Aaron’s fist hovered mid-air, shaking.
He looked down at the body underneath him—limp, barely twitching.
Another second and he’d be dead.
Aaron’s chest heaved.
He forced himself to stand.
“Cut the ties,” he ordered, voice hoarse. “Dump him at the ER. Tell them he fell down some stairs. Multiple times.”
The men nodded.
Aaron walked out without looking back.
The drive to campus was silent.
He parked, went straight to the dorm bathroom, and scrubbed the blood off his hands until the sink ran pink.
His knuckles were split open, swollen purple.
He stared at them in the mirror.
Then he went to his room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of his bed in the dark.
Well, shit!