I never had a job at Shelby Holdings. You probably know that by now, considering the fact that no one must've come searching for me, demanding answers.

I was a gang leader. I know you know now that I had blood on my hands after meeting Jillian. Jillian had been the one of many. Most murders, I don't even regret. I don't know what kind of person that makes me.

Just because no one came for me doesn't mean that I was lonely or hated. I have a family in the gang, friends who would give their lives for me, and so do you.

I need you to visit them.

I know that you might need time to process all this, but time is something we don't have. I need you to go to The FitHalf and ask for Jonah. Trust your instincts. Remember everything I've taught you.

The thing is, Megs, they deserve to know. Whether you want to stay or leave is your choice alone. But I want you to give them a chance.

Remember, Megs. Blood is thicker than water.

////

I watch Aidan's perfect handwriting distort in front of me as I clutch the paper tight.

I've never had a job at Shelby Holdings.

Bullshit.

I vividly remember the day, almost three years ago, when he told me close my eyes and handed me an envelope. I remember the shrieks of joy that filled my bedroom as I spotted the logo of the Shelby Holdings, the way my bed groaned under my weight as I jumped up and down on it, the feel of Aidan's arms around me as he lifted me up and twirled me around.

I had been so happy.

He had insisted he needed formals, and we went out shopping. He even bought me a red velvet cake to celebrate his first job.

Pushing the letter back into my dresser, I pull open Aidan's side of the cupboard. My fingers skim over the neatly ironed piles of formal shirts and trousers before resting over a small blue box.

I know what they are before opening them.

With trembling hands, I pick up the box. I open it and allow my fingers to trace the engraved cufflinks.

I had bought it for him, on his 19th birthday, the first after he got his job. I had traded my entire life's savings to buy them for him, risking getting thrown out of the Burberry store where I bought them due to my shabby clothes.

I saw the cufflinks and I knew that they were what my brother desperately wanted, and the brand spoke volumes. I knew he would never buy them himself, so I bought it for him. I went without lunch for weeks afterwards, but the smile and the bone – crushing hug he gave me when I gifted them to him, were enough to make me forget my worries.

But it was a lie. All of it. Everything.

I don't know how much time I sat there, clutching the box to my heart and crying.

Probably hours.

////

It's after donning another one of Aidan's hoodies that I walk to the nearest bus station. I had heard of The FitHalf. It had been a prominent fitness center and gym, but it had fallen away in that line of business. FitHalf was now the place where gangs hang out, I suppose.

The night is cool and inviting. It helps me forget my problems: my brother's mysterious revelations, my aimless direction in life, the looming bankruptcy and the lack of a fit job.

I pull the hoodie lower around my face as I spot the crusty old building. Sure enough, there are pierced and tattooed boys everywhere, taking drags from cigarettes or drinking. Nobody pays me any attention as I enter.

There are posters. Not the kind of 'Sweat it out, work it out' posters that you see at the gyms, but the kind of posters you see at fighting arenas. Boxing gloves, punching bags, blood.

Cursing softly, I walk over to two somewhat – sane looking guys at a table. There's a lousy sign made of cardboard propped on top of it, with 'Reception' written in sharpie.

One of them looks up as I approach. He has metal rings on a single ear.

'Fight or Ticket?'

I pull the hoodie lower. 'Huh?'

The other guy gives me a bored look. He drums his fingers on the table.

'You must be new. Are you?'

I nod, not trusting my voice.

The guy with the earrings looks at me, trying to spot my face.

'Dude, what I meant was do you want to see the fight or do you want to fight?'

I don't hesitate. 'Fight,' I say, my voice gruff, even. I don't want them knowing I'm a girl.

'Wanting to let off some steam, huh?' the other guy says, still drumming on the table.

Earring guy grabs a book.

'What's your name?'

I hesitate. Surely I can't go with Megs.

Earring guy seems to understand. 'Pick any. Make it fast, though.'

'Ryder.' I say.

'Up against?'

I narrow my eyes.

Trust your instincts.

Oh, well.

'Who's the best you got?'

The other guy stops drumming on the table.

'I know from where this dude comes from, Zander. I bet he hasn't taken a punch to the face.'

I slam my hand down on the table. 'We'll decide that later, bud. Who's your best fighter? Pitch me against him.'

Zander shakes his head.

'He'll cave your face in.'

'I don't care. Pitch me in, now.'

'So, it's Ryder against Archer?' Zander asks the other guy.

'He's not here today.'

'Who? Archer? Let's go with Lazer then.'

'Fine.'

Zander looks at me.

'So it's you against Lazer, dude.' His eyes roam over my body, sizing me up. The baggy hoodie covers up my curves, giving me a somewhat disproportionate shape.

'Why don't you go on to the arena now?' he sounds clearly unimpressed. 'Lazer's already fighting. You can come back if you change your mind.'

'Thanks but I won't,' I say. 'What if I win?'

'That is a question that doesn't even matter.'

'It does.' I insist. 'What do I get?'

'Fifty grand. Plus all the money bet on Lazer.'

Fifty grand. Holy shit.

'Later, Zander.' I tug down on my hoodie.

'Shady guy,' I hear him say to the other guy.

Shady, yes. Guy, not at all.

////

Chapter dedicated to ninyatippett . Hats off to an amazing writer full of ideas, wits and bucketloads of sarcastic humor. Absolutely in love with Charlotte Maxfield and Cassandra Vice. Both women of stature, honor and power. Charlotte's my favorite though!

There is a whole lot to be learnt from each and every one of her female characters, from witty, responsible Charlotte to headstrong, impulsive Vivienne. Her wonderful portrayal of love and what is to be expected from it... Mindblowing.

Later, amigos.