Chapter 10 OUTFOX THE FOX

Chapter 10 OUTFOX THE FOX

MIA’S POV

I wanted just one day without seeing him, and here he is – shirtless.

The heat of the gym hits me within seconds as I walk casually to the opposite side of the room, ignoring his presence. The last thing I want is to have a conversation with him when he’s half naked and dripping with sweat- especially after last night.

He has messed up my life enough to also fuck with my mental state, my life and my mind.

“What is she doing here?” his voice floats through the gym, making everyone’s eyes turn towards me.

“She just wanted to get her body going. Not a big deal, and she’s going to need it,” Delilah replies.

So far, she hasn’t threatened my life or attempted to kill me all morning, so I take it that we’re getting along.

I don’t say anything, honestly, I don’t even want to look at him, so as soon as I don’t hear him say anything else, I move forward, keeping my head down.

Delilah follows close; she might not have tried to hurt me, but she’s hovering around me like a mother hen, for god’s sake, what am I going to do? Run?

“Maybe we should have a round while you two rest on the bench,” I hear Delilah say.

I hope to God that she’s not talking about me.

“Sure thing,” Nikolai responds, and I start touching some weights, trying to act oblivious to everything happening around me.

“Mia!” she calls out, and I clench my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath for composure.

I turn around, and Fin and Nikolai are already down from the ring and standing next to Delilah by the time I get there. I lock eyes with Nikolai for a moment before looking away. I can’t hold his gaze without picturing him naked.

“Hi, Fin,” I wave, focusing on him instead. Don’t want him to be suspicious or anything. From Nik’s body language so far, I don’t think Fin said anything to him, which is a relief.

He smirks a little and raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement, which is good enough for me.

“Stop fussing around and get in the ring,” Delilah says to me, and I roll my eyes and start approaching her.

She enters the ring, and I join her. It’s been a moment since I last got in this ring, and I am a little excited. I just need to get my head in the game and focus.

We grab our gloves and take are stance.

“I think you guys should wear the rest of the gear,” Fin suggests.

“I’m good,” I reply, tightening the glove around my wrist.

“Me too,” Delilah says.

I don’t look up. I honestly don’t care who wins this; I just want to have fun. That’s what they always taught us- to have fun. We learned to view pain as fun-killing as fun. It was all fun.

We stretch as we wait for the whistle to blow. She looks like she wants to hurt me really badly, it’s expected though- she did mention that Nik didn’t want her to hurt me, and that’s the only thing holding her back. It’s completely normal for her to want to make the best of whatever avenue she has to hit me.

“I promised to make you beg for death the moment I had you strapped to that chair. Maybe we should go down memory lane.”

Her words strike a nerve I didn’t know was there.

I hadn’t forgotten about that night, but I didn’t carry it around with me either. I just let it slide, didn’t think about it after, and I guess I just let it register as her doing her job- just like I was doing mine.

The whistle goes off, and she attacks, while I watch and dodge. One thing I was taught was to always monitor my opponent.

There are two types of fighters in this world, the wolves and the foxes.

The wolves are the people who rely on their strength and skills, while the foxes rely on their minds and their strength and skills.

I happen to be a fox. But I need to figure out if she’s a fox too. If she is, I’ll just have to figure out a way to outfox her.

She lands a punch to my left torso, and I grunt, recovering quickly and retaliating with a punch to her face. She staggers back, which gives me time to regain my structure.

This time, I attack. She blocks my first blow and attacks with another, which I duck from.

The images are coming back, and I try to control them, but they keep flooding my mind. Tied up in that dark room, naked, while she tortured me. I’m getting angry, and that is a dangerous emotion when trying to win a strategic fight.

The whistle blows, and the second round starts.

Delilah lunges first, her fist cracks against my cheekbone, and my head snaps to the left, spit flying. I didn’t see that coming, but now I realise that she wanted to get me angry. That was the reason for the comment; she wanted to blind me with rage.

I move fast and land a right hook to her ribs. She staggers but doesn’t fall, then with a swift move, she raises her leg to my chin, and pain bursts white in my head. I fall on my knees.

She doesn’t stop; she approaches me, face twisted in fury, and lands a punch straight to my nose. The crowd starts cheering as she lands punch after punch on my face.

Not yet.

She keeps hitting me, and I keep taking it, until the sound of the cheering is lost under the drumming of my heart.

1…2…3

I swing low, fist crashing into Delilah’s stomach. The air is knocked out of her in a strangled gasp, and she bends forward, allowing me to land a clean uppercut.

The cheering dies down.

Delilah’s head flies back, hair whipping. Blood sprayed from her split lip. Her knees buckle, but her stubbornness keeps her upright.

I spit blood onto the mat, glaring across the ring.

I advance towards her, smashing left, right, left, relentless. My eyes are swelling shut, the skin dark from all the hits I suffered, but still, I throw a vicious left cross, which she dodges, then another that cuts her brow. I watch the blood trickle down her face, and I smirk.

The ropes are blurred, the ref, the audience, everything except the girl in front of me.

As Dante would always say, ‘if you’re going to be blinded with rage, you might as well focus on your target.

Delilah charges towards me once more, slamming me into the ropes. I land a hit on her ribs- three, four, five punches.

Delilah gasps, arms sinking. I step back, pivot and swing a right hook with every ounce of hate and pain in my body.

Her head twists violently. The crowd shrieks. Delilah’s legs betray her, and she collapses to the mat, breathing heavily.

I stand above her, chest heaving, gloves dripping with sweat and blood. The ref moves in, counting as Delilah struggles to stand.

The anger starts to clear away from my eyes, and that’s when I remember my most important training in camp. The reason why our buyers wanted female assassins in the first place.

I collapse onto the floor, my eyes slowly shutting. Delilah takes the opportunity to push herself to her feet, and the ref starts counting again. I lay lifeless, and Delilah is declared the winner.

This isn’t my final play; I still have to get out of here.

Rule number 1: Allow yourself to be underestimated-always.