Page 23 of Celestial Combat

Midtown, New York City

OUTSIDE THE LOCKER ROOM, THE roar of the crowd was like an ocean, anticipation vibrating through the walls. The underground warehouse had never been this loud.

But inside this room, it was silent.

Meisa sat on the bench, her shoulders tense, her breath steady – but her hands weren’t.

Her fingers fumbled as she tried to wrap her knuckles, the tape slipping through her grip. Frustration tightened her jaw. Before she could curse, I took over.

I knelt in front of her, silent as I secured the wrap around her knuckles, pulling it tight but comfortable.

“I didn’t ask for help.”

I didn’t look up. My fingers worked the tape with steady precision. “Don’t care.”

She exhaled, watching me. Her breathing was calm, but I could see it – the slight tension in her fingers, the way her pulse thrummed too fast against her wrist.

She was nervous.

I tied the last knot, securing the wrap. I could feel her watching me, waiting for something.

I stood, towering over her. My fingers lingered against hers for half a second too long before I pulled away, like I’d touched fire.

“Be careful out there.”

I hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that.

Meisa flexed her fingers, and I wondered if she could feel the warmth I left behind. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but before she could, I was already gone.

For the first time in years, my heart was beating too fast.

The underground warehouse stretched wide and raw, an expanse of concrete and steel. Shadows flickered along the high ceilings, beams of light cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke and the heavy music.

The bass pounded, vibrating through my bones, through the floor beneath my shoes. The space was alive with crowded bodies pressed together – some drinking, some watching the fight cage with eager eyes, others dancing to the pulsing rhythm. Along the far wall, the makeshift bar was chaos – bartenders barely keeping up as hands shoved forward, demanding another round. Servers weaved through the crowd with their trays lifted high, dodging people and half-hearted fights.

This was my domain. I knew every inch of it, every person who walked through those doors, every fight that was worth betting on.

And usually, I would be upstairs, overlooking the ring from my office, where I could see everything without having to be in it.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, I needed to behere.

Forher.

I leaned against a pillar near the edge of the fight cage, arms crossed, watching as the last fight wrapped up. The energy in the room shifted, a ripple of anticipation cutting through the crowd. They knew what was next.

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders.

The bell rang.

Her fight started.

And then, through the movement of the crowd, I saw Trevor.

Trevor Su, heir to the Su Dynasty, had been my best friend for almost two decades.

His familiar frame pushed through the bodies, his hand gripping a girl’s wrist so she wouldn’t get lost from him in the crowd.

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