CHAPTER 81 — BLOOD IN THE SHADOWS
CHAPTER 81 — BLOOD IN THE SHADOWS
ALISTAIR’S POV
No I can't, somebody should drag her the hell out of that ring.
That was my thoughts when the hulk of the so called champion circled Violet like a predator eyeing prey to know where he can begin to feast on, his massive frame occupied the blood-stained canvas of the ring.
Every muscle in his body was coiled tight and looking ready to strike. In the booth above, Marco was leaning forward with a cold smile, while my father sat down at a corner with his eyes locked on Violet with a mixture of fear and what seems to be pride.
“Get her away from there,” I whispered into my radio, my voice was tight with a barely controlled rage. “We can’t let her do this.”
“Stand down,” Donovan’s voice came back. “I think she’s got a plan, let's trust her on this.”
Trust. It was a luxury we rarely afforded in this world, but when it came to Violet, I have to learn to rely on her instincts. Still, watching her stand alone against a man who’d killed for sport made my hands shake as I gripped the edge of the ventilation grate.
The champion lunged forward with a surprising speed and his fist aimed straight at Violet’s head.
I flinched, ready to burst through the door, but Violet didn’t dodge, she just stood perfectly still, her eyes were wide with what looked like terror as she raised her hands in front of her face to shield herself.
The crowd roared, jeering and shouting for blood as the champion drew back his fist for the final blow. But just as his knuckles were inches from her skin, Violet did something no one expected.
She dropped to her knees, letting out a cry that cut through the noise of the crowd.
“Please,” she said, her voice cracking with tears. “I don’t want to fight. I just want to see my mother.”
The champion paused, confused by her sudden surrender.
Marco stood from his booth, his face set dark with anger.
“Fight her!” he yelled. “She’s playing you for a fool!”
But the champion hesitated. In this brutal world, where strength was everything and vulnerability was foreign, it's almost unsettling.
Violet stayed on her knees, her shoulders are shaking with silent sobs as she kept her face hidden in her hands.
“Look at me,” the champion said, his voice sounded surprisingly gentle for a man built like a mountain.
Violet slowly lifted her head, and I saw what she’d been hiding – she’d used the small mirror from her compact to catch the overhead lights, sending bright flashes into the champion’s eyes. He stumbled back, blinking and rubbing his eyes, and in that moment of confusion, Violet did something even more unexpected.
She pulled out a small music box from her dress, the soft, tinkling melody filled the sudden silence of the club, a stark contrast to the violence that had filled the air moments before.
“My father gave this to me,” she said quietly, the music box playing a lullaby that seemed to calm even the most restless in the crowd.
“He told me that even in the darkest places, there’s always room for something beautiful.”
The champion stood frozen, listening to the music. Even from here, I can feel the crowd had gone completely silent, every eye fixed on Violet as she held the small box in her trembling hands.
“Enough!” Marco shouted, his voice cracking with fury.
“She’s manipulating you all! Take her!”
But his men hesitated to and that’s the only opportunity we were waiting for, we made our move.
Donovan threw a smoke bomb into the crowd that sent people scrambling. Damien tackled two guards at the east exit, his movements brutal and efficient.
Then Laura and I burst through the service door, her gun firing controlled shots that took out lights while I moved to free Donovan’s father.
“Stay behind me,” I said to him, cutting through his bonds with a scalpel from my bag.
“Like hell,” he replied, standing up straight despite his age and weakness. “I will leave my sons fighting out there," that was surprisingly shocking coming from my father.
"I’m not going to hide.”
I didn’t argue as we moved through the chaos, the club's filled with screaming patrons and gunfire. I spotted Violet still kneeling in the ring, the music box still playing as Marco’s men moved toward her slowly, uncertain of what to do with someone who had refused to fight back.
Donovan was already moving, he's dropping from the rafters to land between Violet and the advancing guards.
“That’s enough,” he said. “She came here to talk, not to fight.”
Damien appeared at her side, gently helping her to her feet. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
We fought our way to the tunnels, Laura covering our retreat with precise shots while our father surprisingly held his own, disarming a guard with a move that showed he’d been young once, too. By the time we reached the exit, our men had already cleared a path to the waiting vehicles.
“Everyone in!” Donovan shouted, pulling Violet into the lead car. “Marco will have his reinforcements here any minute.”
As we pulled away from the fight club, I finally had a chance to look at Violet properly.
She was looking pale and shaking, her hands are still clutching the small music box. Without thinking, I reached forward from the back seat, gently taking her hands in mine.
“You’re safe now,” I said quietly, feeling how cold her fingers were.
“I didn’t even know how to fight,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I was so scared, Alistair. I just froze up and did the only thing I could think of.”
“Which was exactly the right thing,” Damien said from the passenger seat, looking back at her with admiration in his eyes.
“You didn’t try to be something you’re not. You used what you have, your heart and your ability to reach people. And that was more powerful than any punch could have been.”
Donovan reached across the seat, covering her hand with his.
“He’s right,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road as he navigated through Milan’s narrow streets at high speed.
“Strength isn’t always about fighting back, sometimes it’s about having the courage to be vulnerable when everyone expects you to be tough.”
We drove to a safe house in the hills above the city, it's a stone villa that's hidden among olive groves that had been in our family for generations. As we entered, Laura moved to start a fire in the great room while I attended to Violet, checking her for injuries even though she’d barely been touched.
“Sit,” I said, guiding her to a chair.
“You’ve been through a lot. Let me make you some tea and check you over properly.”
She sat quietly as I examined her, her hands still wrapped around the music box. When I was satisfied she was unharmed, I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and went to make tea.
Laura watched me move through the kitchen, her expression tight.
“She didn’t have to do anything,” Laura said quietly as I boiled water on the stove. “You three would have saved her anyway.”
“Maybe,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral.
“But she didn’t wait to be saved. She found her own way to survive, in her own way and that takes courage too.”
Laura didn’t respond, turning away to tend to the fire.
When I returned with tea, Violet was sitting between Donovan and Damien, telling them about the music box, how her father had given it to her and told her to never forget who she really was.
We sat there for a long time, the fire crackling as Violet spoke softly and the three of us listened.
When she finished, Donovan reached for her hand.
“Marco won’t stop now,” he said, his voice serious. “He’ll come harder, and he’ll use every resource he has.”
“Then we need to be ready,” Damien said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
That night, as the others slept, I found Violet on the terrace, looking out over the city lights below. The Mediterranean breeze caught her hair, and even wrapped in a blanket, she looked smaller than ever, a reminder that she’d been through more than anyone should have to bear.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked, joining her at the rail.
“Too much thinking,” she replied, leaning against the warm stone.
“About my father, my mother, about Marco and whether I’m strong enough for this life.”
“You’re stronger than you know,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders carefully.
“Strength isn’t about being able to fight or kill. It’s about being able to keep your heart open even when the world tries to harden it.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of her body against mine.
“What about you?” she asked quietly. “Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you’d never been born in this kind of life?”
“All this brought me to you,” I said simply.
“Every choice, every danger, it led me here.”
I turned her gently toward me, cupping her face in my hands. The moonlight caught the gold flecks in her eyes, and in that moment, the violence and danger of our world felt miles away. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that was gentle and deep, filled with all the care and protectiveness I’d been holding back.
She kissed me back, her hand resting on my chest over my heart. When we pulled apart, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
“I'm sorry,” she said, her voice quiet. “I'm attracted to all of you. I don’t know how to make sense of it.”
I hope this isn't history repeating itself.
I didn't say anything I just hold her while we stayed there for a long time, watching the city below and talking in quiet voices about everything and nothing. When we finally went inside.