I step back through the doors of the bar the next night, but this time I feel and look completely different.

I've slicked my hair back into a low bun, easier to deal with and also easier to disguise the auburn strands - with the help of my abilities of course. Black inky shadows coat the red strands. The shadows melting into my irises and turning them black as well.

Who knew a power that I'd only known of recently could be so helpful.

The long sleeve and tights I chose make sure nothing of my skin is exposed, keeping my identity and my secrets just that much more hidden.

A mask covers my lower face, leaving only my eyes exposed, which isn't uncommon in underground fighting but feels uncomfortable as I walk further into the bar, with Candace's eyes jumping straight to me.

I pray she doesn't recognize me, and it seems my prayers are answered as soon as her eyes flit over me, finding something else to focus on with an intensity only Candace seems to possess.

I take a deep breath, scanning the crowd for Kade, Killian or Malachi but none of them are anywhere to be seen and I slowly let out the breath, letting my posture relax, showing lazy confidence.

I guess it's my lucky night.

Twisting through the growing crowd, I move for the center, my eyes taking in the two opponents in the ring, circling each other like they'd done this millions of times. Maybe they had.

They grin, their smiles almost familiar with one another and it takes me a second to realise one of the men is Kade, his shirt off and gleaming, sweaty muscles on display. I stop where I am, nestled between a small crowd of people, all jeering and watching the two men fight with appreciative whistles and rapt attention.

It's almost a dance as the two circle once more and then Kade moves. Swift as a cobra, he strikes, the muscles in his biceps contracting under the rapid fire move and I suck in a breath through my teeth, becoming as enrapt in the show as the patrons.

Sweat drips between the dips and crevices of his back muscles, gliding between scars peppered along the tan flesh and my eyes want to trace them, find out what caused them but I force myself from that train of thought when his opponent moves forward, attacking Kade with a ferociousness that is only learnt through years of training.

The fight continues but ultimately it's Kade who wins, grinning at his opponent in triumph. The other man sticks a finger up at Kade but the grin on his face shows no anger and the clap on his back further proves that they're friends.

I watch Kade jump from the platform, his naked back disappearing between the crowd, swallowed up instantly and I turn my attention back to the man still standing on the platform as another steps up taking his place, his eyes sweeping over the people below. A shiver goes through me, but I stay silent as another man joins him, eyes moving towards the patrons.

"Seems Cain here still has a lot of fight in him, who's up for the challenge?"

He must have already fought tonight, and judging by the way he grins, he won.

I sweep my gaze quickly over the people before I lift my hand.

The crowd quietens but I keep my sharp eyes on the announcer, who eyes me with barely concealed curiosity.

The silence is soon followed by a ripple of snickers and disbelieving glances. The idea of a girl stepping into the ring is met with skepticism. I ignore the looks and whispers, my focus unwavering.

"Very well, come up here."

With lethal calm, I weave through the crowd until I reach the edge of the ring, hoisting myself up and bending under the rope, the move so familiar it's like second nature.

Straitening gracefully on the other side of the rope, I step into the spotlight of the makeshift fighting ring. The crowd's amusement transforms into an intrigued hush. In this moment, I feel a sense of familiarity, a connection to a past life where the ring was my domain, mine. The adrenaline courses through my veins as I move with purpose, locking eyes with the victorious fighter.

The guy is packed with muscle, seeming to even grow in size as I watch him, his blonde hair close shaven. A leer darkens his otherwise handsome face, only overshadowed by a scar that runs through from eyebrow to nose.

It's not altogether unattractive but the attitude with which he watches me is, and then he opens his mouth.

"Little girls don't belong in places like this without an owner." He looks me up and down. "I'd be happy to leash you."

I grind my teeth but say nothing, keeping silent even as I want to rip the words from his throat and shove them up his ass.

We're interrupted by the announcer stepping between us, effectively cutting off my path to Cain. Smart man. He flashes Cain a look over his shoulder before facing me once more, "What do you call yourself?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead, obviously I can't call myself by my old handle, or the whole point of me faking my death and running here would be for naught.

Chewing my lips softly, I think and then blurt out the first thing I can think of.

"Death Dealer."

Not the most creative thing and hopefully Elijah doesn't mind sharing a name.

God, if he'd ever found out that I did that, he would kill me . . . again.

I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, thinking back to the last time I'd seen the man. When he was throwing my fake lifeless body over his shoulder and I was shutting the door of his car, turning the key in the ignition and running.

I wonder how I died; I hope it was memorable.

I shake off the thoughts and focus, looking back at the man who nods.

As the MC announces the impromptu match, the crowd's doubt transforms into a buzz of excitement. The atmosphere becomes electric, and I brace myself for the dance within the ring, a dance I haven't forgotten, even in the shadows of a different life.

The atmosphere in the ring crackles with anticipation as I square off against the self-assured opponent who dismisses me as an easy target. The onlookers, doubtful and curious, witness my feigned vulnerability as I let my body ease into a deceptive relaxation.

It was a move that had won me many matches, a move that always worked. Unless my opponent was better than me of course.

Cain was not.

As was shown in the way he easily dismissed me. Any good fighter would be able to see the tone and definition in my body, even under the layer of fabric. They'd notice the way I moved, the way I watched him, tracking and seeing every tiny move he made. A good fighter knows when they're looking at another.

I shake out the lingering nerves that erupt before every match and sharpen my mind, ignoring the crowd and anything outside of the here and now, my focus intent and solely on Cain.

His smirk widens, a manifestation of his misplaced confidence.

His foot shifts forward the slightest bit.

The moment he lunges at me; I spring into action. Dodging with an agility that surprises the crowd judging by the noise that erupts. None of these guys know what the hell they're doing. If they did, the move wouldn't surprise them.

I twist and maneuver, leaving him grasping at the air where I once stood. A momentary confusion flickers across his face before he narrows his eyes, frustration flickering through them like a wildfire.

"Did you think this would be easy?" I finally taunt, keeping my voice low.

He glares at me, and I let him hear the amusement in my tone as I speak again. "It will be, just not for you."

I let the smirk creep onto my face even though he can't see it, though I'm sure he notices the shift of the mask.

The arrogance on his face fades, replaced by a growing scowl.

Now we're talking.

He cracks his neck, muscles bulging with his frustration, and I tighten my core, readying myself.

"When I get my hands on you, I'm going to show you what a man like me does to a little girl with a mouth on her-"

"How bout you win first, then you can talk smack." A snake a hand out, delivery a swift hit to his temple, the spot left unprotected and he grunts, shaking his head.

I don't give him the chance to recover. Stepping forward, I deliver a powerful knee to his side, the impact audible even over the roars of the crowd. The fight escalates into a rapid exchange of blows, a dance of controlled chaos. The sweet familiarity passes through me like a breeze, and I breathe it in, feeling alive for the first time in months. Sweat drips, blood splatters, the air is thick with tension, but I bathe in it, feeling the energy slip around me.

The crowd is on the edge of their seats, enthralled by the spectacle unfolding before them. I dodge and weave, my movements fluid, but not without consequence. His fists find their mark a couple of times, landing solid hits that send shockwaves of pain through my body. I grit my teeth, determined not to show weakness even as I taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue.

Sharpening my focus, I decide to stop playing with him, feeling my heart pounding in time with the roar of the crowd.

I step forward and attack. Each move is precise, every strike calculated. The audience is enraptured, the suspense palpable. I execute a sequence of moves that leaves Cain disoriented.

With one last breath, I slam my fist into his jaw, the crack of it echoes through the building, followed closely by the sound of his body hitting the floor, his eyes rolling inwards.

I stand in the center of the ring, bloodied but triumphant, my disguise intact, and the secrets I keep still concealed in the shadow, yet alive, for the first time in what feels like a year, I feel truly alive.

But when I look out into the crowd, my eyes find Kade, staring at me with an intensity that causes a shiver to run down my spine. His face half bathed in the same shadow my secrets hide.

My heart pounds as the announcer announces my win but I don't stay longer then to collect my winnings, even as I feel Kades eyes steady on me.

The envelope full of money is like a physical entity in the palm of my hands, begging me to look at it, check it.

It's the first time I'd ever held any of my own winnings. The first time he hadn't taken them as a payment to my debt.

I weave between the crowd, pushing out into the late night air before swiftly checking over my shoulder and starting at a run, finding where I hid the bike behind a dumpster a few alleyways over.

Waiting the few precious minutes I have to make sure I wasn't followed before I slip the helmet on and start the bike, beginning the drive back home.

All the while my heart pounds and my pockets are heavy with cash.