She hasn’t said a word since we pulled out of the Blackwell gates. Not that I expected her to, of course.
She just sits there, with her arms folded tight across her chest, and head turned towards the window.
The sun cuts through the windshield, catching the gold strands buried in her curls. I catch myself staring at the soft curve of her cheekbone, the tiny freckle near her lip, the way her pouty mouth twists when she’s annoyed. She's so small, yet every word out of her mouth is sharp enough to cut.
I shouldn’t notice these things. I Shouldn’t think about how last night I thought she was a damn thief creeping through the dark. Shouldn’t think about how my blood caught fire the second my hand closed around her wrist.
Mate.
It still tastes like poison on my tongue.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and force my eyes back to the road. Doesn’t matter how my wolf howls every time she shifts in her seat. Doesn’t matter that she smells like warmth and storms and something I can’t name. She’s my stepsister now. Damon would lose his mind if he knew what the moon decided to pull on us.
Or worse, he'll use her like a pawn. My hands grip the wheel tighter.
She glances at me then back out the window, when she notices we’re not heading toward the Upper Cliffs. I can practically feel her suspicion soaking into the leather seats.
“Where are we going?” she finally snaps.
I keep my eyes ahead. “Thought I’d show you the real Hollow.”
Her scoff is sharp enough to cut the engine. “Oh great. So thoughtful of you, big brother.”
The word drips from her mouth like venom, and for a second I almost laugh. But I don’t.
Twenty minutes later, we roll past the fancy boutiques and overpriced brunch spots Damon probably wanted her to pose at, for show. He really has found himself a new doll to show off. To play with as he likes…to break.
I take a hard turn off the main street and the buildings change from stone mansions and glass condos, to brick warehouses tagged with old graffiti, and rundown shacks.
She shifts in her seat when I pull up outside a squat, grimy building wedged between a shuttered diner and a garage. The sign above the door is faded, but you can still make out the battered gloves painted next to the words, “Hollow Ground Boxing.”
Liana eyes the entrance like it’s a trap. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” her voice seeps with displeasure.
I cut the engine and lean back, letting the silence stretch. “What, princess?”
“I have a feeling this isn't where you were supposed to take me. Decide to take a short cut to finish me off, huh?”
I stare at her for a second, then I chuckle. “Listen, if I wanted to kill you, I would've been done with you last night.”
“Oh, yeah? I wouldn't be in this predicament if you had just gotten the hell out of my way like I asked you too.”
“Well, buckle up princess because it's too late and now you're in for a ride.”
She rounds on me, brown eyes spitting fire. “I didn’t ask to be dragged to some sweaty man cave. Damon told you to show me the town. This isn’t the town.”
I grin, can’t help it. Her anger tastes better than her silence. “This is my town. You want the real Hollow? This is where it breathes.”
Before she can hurl another insult, I push the door open and climb out. She follows, muttering curses under her breath. I ignore her and push through the dented metal door into the warmth and noise of the gym.
Inside, the air is thick with the sharp tang of sweat and the rhythmic smack of gloves on leather. The old neon sign hums overhead. A few heads turn when they see me. The regulars nod towards my direction, giving me that silent respect that comes from a hundred bruised knuckles and cracked ribs.
“Jace Blackwell. Look who decided to drag his pretty ass in here on a weekday.”
I grin when I see Donny leaning against the ropes of the main ring. He’s been here since my father was still sneaking out to fight underground before he put on his fancy suits. Donny’s hair is more gray than black now, nose crooked three different ways, smile big, and missing a tooth.
He flicks his eyes at Liana, who’s hovering near the door with her arms crossed like she might bolt any second.
“And who’s this? Didn’t know you brought your girlfriends around here.”
My jaw ticks. I shoot Liana a quick look, then back to Donny. “She’s my… sister.” The word tastes wrong. Bitter and jagged.
Donny arches an eyebrow but lets it slide. “Sister, huh? Good for you, kid. Gym’s yours.”
I don’t wait for Liana’s smart remark. I shrug off my jacket and toss it on a bench, then wrap my hands and flex my knuckles. I can feel her eyes on my back, sharp and curious even though she’s pretending she’s bored.
I slip into the ring and nod at Donny to hold the pads. The first punch sends a shock down my arm, grounding me, dragging the chaos out of my head. I lose myself in the sound, in the dull thud of gloves on leather. Donny mutters a few corrections, and I grunt as I apply the corrections.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liana. She’s standing closer now, biting her lip, eyes tracking my every move.
Good. Let her watch. Let her see what I really am when the name, the estate, and the family bullshit strips away.
After I’m done with a few rounds, I drop my gloves and lean over the ropes. Our eyes lock for a moment, and then she breaks it by looking away.
“You want a turn, princess?” I ask.
She scoffs. “Please. I don’t need to roll around in your testosterone sandbox.”
Donny barks a laugh, “Come on, sweetheart. Show him girls hit harder than they look.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and then bites her bottom lip. They looked so yummy and for a moment, I wondered what I could do with them. Focus. I snapped myself out of it and walked towards the middle of the ring.
“Fine,” she snaps. “Show me how to throw a punch so I can deck you next time you call me princess.”
I toss her a pair of old gloves, which she fumbles with a bit, and I step closer, adjusting the strap at her wrist. Her skin brushes mine and for a second everything goes quiet. The only thing I could feel was the pounding of my own heart.
I step back before I do something stupid, focus.
I put her through a few rounds of exercise and warmups, correcting her posture here and there. After watching her nail a couple of routines, I decide that it's time for some friendly sparring.
“Hit me,” I say to her.
“With pleasure.” She squares her shoulders and throws her first punch. It's sloppy, but it lands on the pad with a sharp smack that makes Donny whistle.
I walk her through a few more punches, and though her form is terrible, her spirit is a different beast. She pulls back for another swig, and I hear my Wolf howl inside me. She misses my chin by an inch and we both freeze, locking eyes on each other.
What in the fuck was that? Donny breaks the spell by clapping me on my shoulder and winking at her, “hell of a sister you got there, Jace.”
I watch her take off her gloves, smiling from ear to ear as a few of the usuals begin to talk to her.
I don't think she knows what she just did.
I force a grin, ignoring how the word tastes like iron in my mouth.
Yeah. Sister. Right.