Page 62 of Celestial Combat

I leaned forward, arms crossed, watching the way she moved – every roll of her shoulders, every calculated step. She was fast, but more than that, she was precise. Even in a fight, she carried herself with a quiet elegance. AndIknew that if she everwantedto kill, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Yet she held back.

I could still see her standing on that Chinatown rooftop a month ago, a sniper rifle pressed against her shoulder. The way she had lined up the shot. And the way her fingers had gone still on the trigger.

My jaw clenched as Kali circled her opponent, her dark eyes locked onto him like she could already see the outcome of the fight. My fingers itched – to interfere, to act, to touch.

Becausefuck.

This deprivation was burning me alive.

I had spent weeks pretending she didn’t exist. Watching her train with Tony instead of me. Not saying a word when she passed me in the halls of Python, pretending like the weeks before hadn’t changed anything. But every time our eyes met across the gym, across a room – every time she looked at me without speaking – I felt it in my bones.

It was like she had carved her presence into me, and now, every second away from her was like a slow, dragging burn.

And then, the bastard landed a hit.

A brutal swing, too wild to be skillful, but enough to catch Kali off guard. Her head snapped to the side, her body staggering back. The moment her back hit the cage wall, something inside me snapped.

It was irrational, unnecessary – Iknewshe would get back up, Iknewshe could handle herself – but still, the sight of her getting hit ignited something ugly andpossessive in my chest. My fingers dug into my biceps as I clenched my jaw hard enough to ache.

She lifted a hand to wipe the blood from her split lip.

And then she grinned.

Fucking hell.

That smirk – the slow, knowing curl of her mouth – was sharper than any blade.

And sure enough, within seconds, Kali moved fast. A sharp feint to the left, then a brutal, unrelenting counterattack. A hit to the ribs. A sweep of his leg. A finishing blow that sent him crashing to the mat.

The bell rang. The crowd erupted.

Kali stood over her opponent, blood on her lip, bruises blooming across her knuckles, her chest rising and falling with adrenaline. And still, she smirked, glancing up toward my office, like she had just proven something.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my heartbeat back under control.

I had never feared much in my life. But every time she stepped into that cage, I felt it.

I forced myself to step back from the glass, back into the shadows of my office. But even as I turned away, the fire inside me remained.

The city stretched out before me, a mix of neon and gold depending on the neighborhood. From the fire escapeof Python’s gym, I had a perfect view of the East River, its dark surface shimmering under the glow of the bridges that spanned across it. Beyond it, Queens stretched out along the horizon, the occasional flash of a subway car moving through the skyline like a distant ghost. The air smelled like rain and pavement, metal and smoke.

I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees, and exhaled slowly. My knuckles still throbbed from the fight, my lip split just enough to sting every time I moved my mouth, but none of that was why I was here. The crowd had been deafening, the adrenaline addicting, but now… There was only silence. A thick, suffocating silence filled with everything I didn’t want to think about.

Then, a spark. A flicker of flame in the darkness.

He stood a few steps above me on the fire escape, leaning against the railing like he’d been there for a while. The glow of his lighter caught in his sharp features for half a second before disappearing, leaving only the ember of a cigarette burning between his fingers.

I raised a brow. I hadn’t expected him to be a smoker, but I guessed we all had our vices when no one else was looking.

Zane took a slow drag, exhaling smoke in my direction with a frown, letting me know he didn’t want to talk about it.

I didn’t push.

The fire escape creaked slightly as he moved down, settling onto the step beside me. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the weight of him, the warmth rolling off his skin. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye – his black T-shirt’s sleeves hugging his huge biceps, forearms resting on his knees.

The glow of the city casting shadows across his face…

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