Fight or Flight

Chapter Four

POV Nova

It's been two weeks since my last fight at The Den I'm honestly more on edge than ever. I cashed out with the nursing home and managed to stick around long enough to get my last pay cheque. It almost feels a little pointless because either they aren't as interested in me as I'd thought or they're playing with me.

Ugh the suspense.

Tonight is my last night here so I fully intend to go out with a bang. It's boring getting drunk in the house alone all the time and when I go to other clubs I'm always surrounded in desperate men in no time. I mean that's fine when I'm in the mood for a one night stand but not tonight.

The Den is where I'm going tonight. One last fight then a good drunk. 

I knew this day would come. I knew eventually I'd bump into someone from my past or that my name would travel, I'm not stupid, just maybe a little naïve to not think the day would come so soon.
Girl it's been three years.

Squaring my shoulders I take a deep breath and dial Scott. I ask him if there's any open slots on the card and book myself in for 2 two fights.

When I get off the phone I embrace my fate and head to my room, rummaging through my closet. Either they come for me tonight or they don't. I'll leave it to fate.

I settle on a black long sleeve crop top, and a pair of high waisted black jeans. Black on black is a reoccurring theme in my closet.

I decide to add a belt to it, wrapping it around my waist when my phone rings. What's with all the blocked numbers man?

Decline.

——————

Pulling up in front of the club, I take a second and mentally prepare myself to possibly die. Dramatic maybe, but also maybe not. I take one more long drag of my cigarette before dropping it to the ground, beginning the short journey inside.

I'm halfway through my night after finishing my first fight, I'm actually regretting signing up for two. I can feel my shoulders tensing up from the first fight, it was a hard one.

Carter wont acknowledge me, still mad that I didn't show much care to him being attacked. Truth be told, I don't want him to think I care much for anyone. I'm not even sure I care for myself, given the situation I put myself in tonight. Like I said, its easier than saying goodbye.

I sip my drink in silence and await my next fight at a table in the far back corner. I can't let my guard down here, not while I still haven't gotten to the bottom of why those losers wanted my information. They probably have someone here watching my every move.

I gotta stop manifesting this shit. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Well not so much a devil, but the boss of The Angels. 

My eyes zone in on an unwelcome face. He must have spotted me long before I saw him because he's already stalking toward me with that dark gleam in his eyes. I scan my surroundings looking for my escape route but notice armed men stationed throughout The Den. Six sets of eyes, all of them trained on me, there's even some people in the crowd that take notice and warily step away.

I shift a little in my seat, pretending to be nervous but I'm actually making the gun in my boot more easily accessible in a pinch.
Incoming in 3, 2, 1. He pulls the chair out across from me and takes his seat.

"Miss Brooks, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here again tonight?" He asks, looking me over with a blank face.

Perfect fucking face you mean, like who made this guy? He looks like he belongs on a Dior runway.