Chapter 15 THE GHOST’S INSTRUCTION
Pain was a language my new body spoke fluently, and unfortunately, my mind was still learning to translate it.
Jax’s fist came at me fast. I saw it and calculated it. But when I tried to pivot, I was too slow.
“Again,” he barked.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the warehouse ceiling. My ribs ached. My left thigh was already blooming purple, and sweat burned my eyes.
Jax wasn't holding back. He moved like a wall of solid muscle, but somehow still expected me to manage to take him down.
At this point, I should start calling my new self Natasha Romanov because the expectations my crew seemed to have towards me…. they should just call me black widow.
I tried to bounce back to my feet, but my left foot caught on the edge of the mat.
Jax’s fist caught me square in the shoulder as I stumbled.
"Ugh!" I hit the ground hard, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp gasp. “I’m not a damn punching bag,”
“Then stop moving like one.” He sighed. “You’re overthinking it, Si," Jax said. "You keep watching my hands like a beginner. Your body already knows where I’m going. Let go of the steering wheel."
Every move felt like translating a language I barely understood. I saw openings too late, then reacted a half-second behind instinct.
"I’m trying!" I snapped, pushing myself up. My muscles were screaming, my knees were bruised, and my ribs felt like they had been put through a meat grinder. "My mind says go left, but my legs feel like they are stuck in mud. I can’t just turn off my brain, Jax."
"They’re going to whoop your ass," he said flatly. "Butcher isn't going to wait for your brain to catch up. He’s going to take your head off in the first thirty seconds."
I growled, a low, guttural sound that surprised me.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tasted blood. "Again."
Jax moved. He came in low, aiming a kick at my lead leg. I shifted my weight, intending to block, but as his leg swung higher and hit the side of my head, the world suddenly tilted.
The smell of grease and coffee disappeared. For a split second, I smelled stale beer and cigarette smoke.
I wasn't in the garage. I was in a dark, humid room with neon lights flickering overhead. A man twice my size was pinning me against a brick wall, his hand crushing my throat.
Use the leverage, Siren. He’s heavy, so use his weight against him.
The voice in the memory was cold, calm like that of a trainer.
In the vision, I didn't fight his grip. I reached up, my fingers finding the soft skin behind his ears. I drove my thumbs into the pressure points, and as he roared in pain and leaned back, I brought my knee up into his groin. As he doubled over, I grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the brick.
"Si! Let go! You're choking me!"
The memory shattered. I was back in the garage. I was on top of Jax’s back, my knees pinning him to the mat. My fingers are digging deep into the spot behind his ears.
I gasped and scrambled backward, my hands shaking. "I... I’m sorry. I didn't mean to..."
How the hell had I even gotten him to the ground?
The things this body could do were so fucking confusing.
Jax sat up, rubbing the sides of his head. He looked at me with a mix of shock and fondness. "Where did that come from? That wasn't a standard counter. That was... that was one of your old tricks. You haven't used that move in years."
"I just... I saw it," I whispered. "It was like a movie playing in my head."
"You blanked out and instincts took over," Jax muttered, standing up. He sounded relieved but cautious. "It means the skills are there, but you need to be careful. If you lose yourself in a memory during the fight, you’ll be an open target."
The rest of the crew walked over from the lounge.
Leo held out his tablet, showing me a video of a man punching a heavy bag.
"That’s him," Leo said. "The one the promoter wants you to fight.”
Jax squinted at the screen thoughtfully. “He doesn't use technique. He just uses brute strength to dominate.”
"He’s slow," I noted, my eyes fixed on the screen.
"Slow doesn't matter when one hit ends the fight, Si," Mina said, handing me a bottle of water. "If he catches you, it’s over. You have to get your speed back. You look like a victim right now. We need to change that."
"I need better gear," I said, looking at the skimpy, worn-out clothes I was wearing. "I can't fight in these rags. And I'm tired of looking like... this."
"Let's go then," Mina said, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "We need to remind the street that the Siren is back. And she’s changed."
Jax started to protest, but Mina cut him off. "We’ll be careful, Papa Bear." She paused. “Why don’t you just follow us?”
He hesitated.
“Oh, just come with us,” I said, nudging him. “You can watch over us and not have to sit here worrying.”
He almost gave me a faint smile, but quickly stopped, then nodded.
“Leo and I would go and place flyers around,” Kael said, putting on his jacket. “Let your fans know that you’re back.”
An hour later, we were in a discreet boutique in a shady part of town. It was a place where they took cash and didn't ask questions.
Mina started pulling neon, revealing outfits off the racks, the kind of things Sienna apparently loved, but I pushed them away.
"No," I said. "Not those."
Ignoring her surprised look, I walked to the back of the store, toward the darker, more practical fabrics. I found a pair of tactical black trousers with reinforced knees. I found a sleek, high-collared bodysuit that felt like a second skin. I found a leather jacket that was heavy and fit perfectly.
I walked into the dressing room and changed. When I stepped out, Mina and Jax went silent.
I looked at my reflection and smiled, feeling a little bit of my old self.
"Damn," Mina whispered. "You look like you’ve been professionally styled by a stylist trying to make an actress look dangerous."
I froze. Was that a good thing or a bad thing for them?
Then Mina smiled. “I fucking love it.”
Jax paid and headed back to the garage. The sun was setting, casting long, orange shadows over the industrial district. I felt a strange sense of confidence. I had the gear, and the memories were starting to return. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as I thought.
But as we pulled up to the garage, Jax suddenly slammed on the brakes.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The metal shutter," Jax whispered, reaching across and opening the console.
I flinched when he pulled out a gun.
"It's slightly open. I locked it before we left."
My heart hammered, and the confidence I had just been feeling frizzled out.
We hopped out, moving with practiced silence. Jax kicked the shutter the rest of the way up. The garage was dark, with the only light coming from the streetlamp outside.
"Leo? K?" Jax called out.
"We're here," Leo’s voice came from the lounge. He sounded shaken.
We rushed in to see Leo and Kael standing there, staring at something on the table.
I walked closer.
Sitting on the table, where we usually ate together when everyone was around, was a small, blood-stained wooden box.
I reached out and opened it. Inside was a picture.
“That fucking bastard.” Jax hissed, walking closer to me. He leaned into my space but didn’t touch me. Like he wanted to shield me.
The picture in my shaky hands showed me…. or more like Sienna, beaten up and passed out on the floor with blood running down her face.
On the picture, written in a rough handwriting was: Seems like you want another taste.
"I would kill him,” Jax hissed, gently grabbing the picture from my hands and squeezing it into a ball. “I will fucking kill him.”
He held my shoulders and gently turned my frozen body to face him. Then he lifted my head so my gaze met his.
“You don’t have to fight this,” he whispered to me fiercely. “He will obviously want to use your trauma against you.”
“Yeah,” Mina piped in. “Let’s get him outside the ring. Have our revenge.”
I shook my head. They were mistaking my shaking for fear when it wasn’t.
It was rage. Pure rage that I couldn’t explain. It was like it was coming straight from my soul.
"No," I whispered, the steadiness of my voice shocking them. I looked up at Jax. "Tell the promoter the match is on. And tell him I want the Butcher to know one thing."
"What?" Jax whispered, his hold fondness and pride.
I looked him dead in the eye, the shadow of the Siren fully taking over. "Tell him he's going to need more than a knife to finish what he started."