Page 37 of Retaliation

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, his tone low and laced with something that sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers tilted her chin upward, his thumb hovering just above the cut on her lip, as if he was torn between tenderness and fury.

“It was just a fight,” she whispered, feeling the tension drain from her body at the protectiveness in his stare. The raw concern in his eyes made it hard to hold on to her own anger, even as memories of the night before flooded her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

“Who was it?” he hissed, his voice sharp enough to cut glass, but she smiled softly, placing her hand over his wrist, gently lowering his hand from her face.

“A nomad,” she replied, her voice steady, though a part of her wanted to reassure him even more. “And like I said, it was just a fight. You should see what he looked like once I was done with him. He was carried out of the ring.” Her eyes flicked to the side, her mind briefly flashing to the moment when she heard he’d died in the hospital. She could have said more, but she didn’t. It wasn’t necessary.

“Good,” Scorpion growled, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at his boss, who was deep in conversation with Topaz. There was something lethal in his gaze, a promise of what he was capable of if anyone dared to hurt her again.

“Go,” she urged him with a smile, her voice softer now. “I have some things to do anyway.”

He squeezed her hand, his grip lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll catch up with you afterward,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper as he finally let her go and turned his attention back to his boss.

As he walked away, she watched him for a moment longer, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear. There was something about the way he cared for her, the way he wanted to protect her, that made her feel something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time. It was unsettling, but in a way that made her want to explore it further, even as she told herself she needed to focus; that he has secrets she wasn’t part of, but she had to let it go. There were other things to do, other battles to fight, but the thought of him would linger, no matter how hard she tried to push it aside.

She made her way to the center of the room, where the stage had been erected, bathed in a wash of crimson light. A podium stood at its center, flanked by towering speakers that pulsed with the throb of bass. Music filled the air, a symphony of electronic beats that seemed to echo in her bones—along with the heat that Scorpion’s reaction caused.

As she surveyed the scene before her, a sense of pride swelled within her chest again. This was her creation—her vision brought to life. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued her in recent days, she had persisted. What started as a sarcastic comment had become a project of passion.

With a determined set to her jaw, she stepped onto the stage. The crowd’s eyes turned to her as she approached the podium. She stepped forward, the soft glow of the stage lights casting shadows across her face. Taking a deep breath, she tried to center herself before addressing the room. Her eyes caught Scorpion leaning on the railing of the loft, looking down at her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her voice carrying over the babbling of the crowd. “Welcome to the launch of our latest creation. Tonight, we unveil a game unlike any other, a testament to the passion and dedication of everyone in this room.” Her voice, low and husky, carried a quiet intensity that demanded attention.

“Welcome, everyone, to the launch of Shadow Strike,” she announced, her gaze sweeping across the crowd as they erupted into cheer.

“A game that delves deep into the dark underbelly of the street fighting world.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing.

“Each character in Shadow Strike has a story—a reason why they’ve chosen to step into the dangerous world of underground fighting. From seeking revenge to climbing the ranks of the criminal underworld, every decision you make will shape the outcome of your character’s journey.”

Her eyes glittered with excitement as she spoke, her passion for the game in every word.

“With customizable characters and dynamic backstories, Shadow Strike offers players the chance to immerse themselves in a world of danger, intrigue, and betrayal. Will you align yourself with the Mafia, the Bratva, or the Japanese? The choice is yours.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.

“And perhaps most intriguing of all, Shadow Strike uses AI to learn the player’s motives, adapting the story in real-time to reflect their choices and actions. It’s a game that’s as unpredictable as it is thrilling—a game where every decision has consequences. So, without any further ado, gamers? Are you ready?”

A loud cheer boomed from behind the computer screens.

“Let the gaming begin!”

As she finished her speech, the crowd erupted into applause, the excitement tangible in the air.

Every line of code, every moment immersed in the intricacies of the game, was a tribute to Jonathan’s memory. She had programmed the NPC, guiding each player in the underworld to his likeness. With each keystroke, she breathed life into the NPC, infusing it with Jonathan’s essence—the rugged exterior, the fierce determination, the unyielding spirit. Shadow wasn’t just a character; he was a reflection of Jonathan’s essence, a manifestation of his resilience in the unforgiving streets.

As she walked off the stage, her emotions hit her like a brick wall—all of them at once—and she fought back tears.

The crowd closed in around her like a circle of hungry predators, their eager faces looming over her like shadows in the night. Each outstretched hand felt like a gauntlet thrown down before her, demanding her attention and acknowledgment.

Caught in the onslaught, she felt as though she were trapped in the ring, surrounded by opponents closing in from all sides. The air crackled with the electric excitement, each heartbeat echoing like the pounding rhythm of fists against flesh.

Her chest tightened with each breath, the weight of their expectations pressing down like an opponent’s knee on her chest, threatening to crush her beneath its weight. Panic clawed at her throat, its grip tightening with every passing moment until she stood frozen, a statue carved from fear and uncertainty.

When it felt like the walls were closing in, when the noise and pressure of everything threatened to crush her, a familiar presence cut through the chaos like a beacon. Scorpion appeared, his strong figure slicing through the throng of people with ease, his eyes locked on her with unwavering focus. Without a word, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, anchoring her in the midst of the storm.

“I’ve got you, Little Viper,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring, the words a promise only for her ears.

In that moment, the suffocating tension that had gripped her chest loosened just enough for her to take a stammering breath. His touch was like a balm to her frayed nerves, bringing with it a sense of calm she hadn’t realized she was craving. It was as if the world around them faded, the relentless pressure of the night receding just enough for her to catch her breath.

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