Chapter 42 THE MIRROR'S EDGE
“Bring your A-game tonight, Siren,” Viper said, her voice low and serious over the phone. “I mean it.”
I stood in the garage, tightening the laces of my combat boots. The smell of motor oil and burnt rubber usually grounded me, but today, there was a strange prickle at the back of my neck.
“Why the sudden pressure?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “I always bring my A-game.”
“Be serious. Tonight is different,” Viper snapped. “A very high-level investor would be in attendance. He wants to see the girl who has been making waves in my turf. If you impress him, it opens doors that most people in this city would kill for. If you fail, you’re just another girl in the dirt. Do not embarrass me.”
The line went dead before I could reply.
I looked at Jax, and his brows were knit together in that way that meant he was ready to call the whole thing off.
He had heard the conversation.
“High-level investor,” Jax muttered. “I don’t like the sound of that, Si. It smells like Council politics.”
“It’s just a fight, Jax,” I said, though my stomach felt like it was full of lead. “We need Viper’s trust to get to the next phase of the plan. This is how we do it.”
“You and your fucking plan,” he grumbled, but followed me to the car.
The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the city in shades of bruised purple as we drove to the den where the match was being held in heavy silence.
When we turned the corner into the industrial lot where the Den was hidden, my breath hitched.
The lot was packed with motorcycles. And not just any bikes. These were high-end, custom-built machines with the signature chrome and dark paint that only the Harbingers favored.
My stomach dropped when my eyes landed on a matte black Harley parked right at the entrance with a custom crest on the tank: a serpent wrapped around a crown.
I felt like I had been struck by lightning.
That was his bike.
I had watched him polish that chrome a hundred times in our driveway while I sat on the porch with a glass of lemonade.
“Si? What is it?” Jax asked, his hand landing on my shoulder.
“He’s here,” I whispered, my voice sounding like I had just seen a ghost. “Kanan is here.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his grip tightening. “Maybe it’s just one of his captains.”
“I’m sure,” I said, forcing myself to step out of the truck.
And though my legs felt like they were made of water, I pushed forward, walking into the hot and packed den.
The crowd was bigger than I had ever seen it.
Usually, the noise was a chaotic roar, but tonight it was a controlled, rhythmic chant.
The VIP booth on the top floor was draped in dark curtains, but I could see the silhouette of a man sitting at the very edge of his seat.
“Your opponent is the Titan,” Viper whispered, looking frantic as she rushed to me.
She herded us to the locker room, her voice like a sharp blade against the low thrum of the underground den. “She doesn't have your grace, but she has twice your power. So do not let her pin you.”
She stood in the doorway of the locker room, her eyes narrowed and her posture stiff. “Do not make me look like a fool."
Jax was wrapping my knuckles in white tape, so I felt his hands stiffen as Viper spoke. He didn't like this. He had been on edge ever since we got to the Den, his eyes constantly scanning the VIP booths overlooking the ring.
"I am ready, Viper," I said. My voice was steady, but my heart was doing a frantic dance against my ribs. “Stop being such a worrywart.”
“God,” I heard her mutter as she walked away. “He’ll have my head if this doesn’t go as planned.”
"You are shaking, Si," Jax whispered as Viper left. He pulled the tape tighter, grounding me with the pressure.
"I am fine, Jax. It is just the adrenaline," I lied.
It wasn't adrenaline. It was terror. It was the kind of soul-deep dread that comes when you realize you are about to walk into the cage with the man who killed you. I could almost feel the phantom weight of the bullet in my skull. I could almost hear the sound of the rain hitting the pavement on the night Elena Cruz died.
"Look at me," Jax commanded, turning me around to face him. He took my face in his large, calloused hands. "You are the Siren. You are the strongest thing in this room. Do not let the suit in the booth get in your head. Fight like you are the only one who matters."
I looked into Jax’s eyes and felt a moment of pure, agonizing guilt. He loved a version of me that didn't really exist. He was protecting a girl who was already gone.
I nodded, forcing a smile. "I've got this, Jax."
The walk to the ring felt like a journey to the gallows. The crowd was louder tonight, but it felt different. They were more subdued, their eyes flicking toward the darkened glass of the center VIP booth.
I didn't look up as I got into the ring. I couldn't. If I looked up and saw his gray eyes, I knew I would break.
The bell rang.
Titan was a wall of muscle and scar tissue. And as soon as the bell rang, she lunged, a heavy, clubbing blow aimed at my head.
I ducked, my body moving with a fluid, predatory grace that felt like liquid fire, my body reacting with a predatory speed that felt almost detached from my mind.
I struck her in the ribs, then the jaw, but she didn't even flinch. She caught me with a heavy blow to the shoulder that sent me spinning into the chain-link fence.
The crowd screamed, but I only heard the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears.
Suddenly, I wasn't in the ring. I was on my knees in the Cruz compound. I could smell the ozone of his cologne. I could see the cold, gray void in his eyes as he pulled the trigger.
"Elena..." I whispered the name of my dead self slipping through my lips like a confession.
Titan took advantage of my lapse. She caught me with a heavy hook to the jaw that sent me spinning. I hit the concrete floor hard, the taste of copper filling my mouth.
The crowd erupted, but the sound was distant, like I was underwater.
"Get up, Si! Get up!" Jax was screaming from the corner.
I looked back at the booth. Kanan had stood up and was standing closer to the glass, his fingers splayed against the surface.
His eyes had a calculating gleam as if he was seeing something he couldn't explain. It made my skin crawl.
He is watching you, a voice inside me whispered. He is watching the woman he killed.
The rage hit me then. It was a white-hot explosion that cleared the fog from my brain. I wasn't a victim. I was the Siren. I was the storm that was going to burn his world to the ground.
I scrambled to my feet just as Titan came for a finishing blow and stepped into it.
I caught her arm, twisted it until the bone groaned, and delivered a series of strikes so fast and brutal that the crowd went silent.
I ended it with a spinning kick that sent her crashing to the floor, unconscious.
I stood in the center of the ring, my chest heaving. Blood from a cut on my forehead dripped into my eye, but I didn't wipe it away.
I stared straight at the VIP booth. I raised my chin, a silent challenge.
Without waiting for the official announcement, I climbed out of the ring and headed straight for the locker rooms.
I needed air. I needed to get away from the smell of his cologne that weirdly seemed to be haunting my senses.
I was halfway down the hall when a pair of massive guards in black suits blocked my path.
“Mr. Maddox would like a word,” one of them said, his voice was a flat, mechanical drone.
“She’s just finished fighting,” Jax growled, stepping in front of me. His hand was already hovering near the knife at his belt challengingly. “She isn't seeing anyone until she has rested.”
“Jax, it’s fine,” I said, my voice sounding distant. I looked at him, trying to tell him with my eyes to stay back. “Go wait in the truck. I’ll be there soon.”
“Si—”
“Go,” I commanded.
He hesitated, then nodded.
I straightened my shoulders and followed the huge men in front of me.
After months, I was finally going to see the man who killed me face to face.