Damaged Diabla ✔

CHAPTER 28 | Street Fighter

Veronica's POV

3 Days.

3 days until I host the Mafia Ball.

My thoughts are cut off.

"Do we have any other challengers?" The referee called between drags from his cigarette.

Keeping my head down, I shoulder my way to the front of the crowd. When the referee sees me, he flashes a yellow toothed smirk. I have been coming to these fights for years, and I have never seen him without a cigarette between his dirt covered sausage like fingers. His name was Stan. He owned the overpriced liquor store that the fights took place behind.

My opponent.

Early-twenties, with at least 6 inches and thirty pounds over me, bounced around while his buddies cheered him on. The crowd of seventy or so men cleared a makeshift circle in the back alleyway and started shouting louder. I stood against the man, took a deep breath, and waited for Stan to start the fight.

"Make me some money boys."

I hid my scoff and mirrored my opponent's movements: circling, watching. I had been watching him all night. Sure he was strong, but he was far too cocky and jumpy. And very soon he would make his first mistake.

Just as I expected, he strikes first. He went for my head which I easily dodged. He was already getting angry, his pride hurt. He went for my face again and I ducked low, landing a hard blow into his stomach. He stumbled backwards, his legs unstable beneath his clumsy body. I keep my stance low and deliver a kick to the side of his thigh. He stumbles again before lunging. One hand jetted out to my face. I brought my arm up to block his hit but missed his knee being brought up to strike my stomach. I let out a gasp of air
like a balloon being popped. I saw his fist coming for my face again but before he could deliver another blow, I dropped low and swept my leg to knock the back of his calves. His awkward body mimicked a seesaw. The momentum of my sweep sending his feet up and him flat on his back.

Stan called out my victory in the first round. The boy scrambled to his feet and sprinted straight towards me. I kept my body low. Mostly kicks. He is larger and stronger than me, like most of my opponents. But I have speed and agility on my side.

By keeping my body low to the ground, I could keep control of where he hits me better and make the most impact with my kicks.

During the fifth round, one of his punches manages to catch me off guard and collide with my face. The sting of his knuckle against my cheekbone makes me hiss. It wasn't controlled enough to break bone, but it would surely bruise. I finally end the fight by bringing my knee up to his flank and elbow down on his shoulder. When his knees hit the concrete, Stan calls the fight.

The sound of clapping fills the air, signalling the end of a street fighting match. The energy in the atmosphere is palpable, with excitement and anticipation coursing through the veins of the onlookers. People of all ages and backgrounds have gathered to witness this spectacle, and I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I observe the scene before me.

"As a referee, I have the privilege of witnessing some of the most intense and awe-inspiring moments in the world of combat sports. Tonight's street fight between our two fierce competitors, The Diabla and The Champion, was no exception. The atmosphere was electric, as the crowd eagerly awaited the outcome of this epic battle. After a gruelling five rounds, it was Diabla Who emerged victorious, showcasing her incredible skill, determination, and heart. Her relentless attack, combined with her uncanny ability to read her opponent's movements, left The Champion no choice but to submit in the final round."

The roar of the crowd was deafening as they witnessed the display of athleticism and determination before them. People from all walks of life had gathered to witness this spectacle, and their enthusiasm was contagious. The clapping started slowly at first, a few sporadic claps here and there, but soon it grew into a rhythmic symphony of support.
As Stan announced my win, my opponent, The Champion, breathes heavily before storming off towards his friends, enraged that I won.

Undefeated.

Remaining emotionless I take a black bag with all my money in it that I won this round from a bodyguard. I walk to the exit with bodyguards surrounding me to 'protect' me from the people around me.

Marcus and Noah doesnt know I came here tonight, they think I should stay home and plan for Out ball coming up.

I walk towards my motorcycle and put the bag on my back, strapping it tight so it won't fall off when I ride to my house. I step on my motorcycle and ride to my house. As I ride I check my mirror a couple times to check if anyone is following me or not. As I arrived at my house I put my motorcycle in my garage.

I take off my helmet and bag, I put my jacket on my dinner table and take my money out of my bag and put it in my vault where I keep my money in. I walk upstairs into my walk-in closet and I take off my shirt and look in the mirror to see a big bruise just under my chest.

Fucking Barstard.

I head out of my closet and into my bathroom.

I need a fucking shower.

~~~

Feeling refreshed enough to continue my work, I open the door to my office door and walk in, only to see Noah sitting in my chair staring at me with a serious look on his face, his legs resting on my desk, as he slowly sips on MY whiskey.

Before I get to question what the fuck is happening he cuts me off, "Ive been expecting you." he says, slurping on my whiskey.

Who does this bitch think he is? Willard Whyte?

I roll my eyes at him and start scanning through my bookshelves, looking for any new files on the Sanches Family, "Noah get out my office." I say annoyed.

He takes his feet off my desk and looks at me sternly, "Veronica, why did you go to the fight tonight?"

What the fuck?

I looked at him genuinely confused, "How did you know about my fight?"

He smirks at me and points at something behind me, I slowly turn around to see Ricardo standing there emotionless.

When did he get there?

I look away from Arrow and turn back around to see Noah standing up, looking at me concerningly, "V listen, Marcus and I are worried about you. We can't have you risk getting hurt in these street fights, when we have the ball in three days!"

Before I can argue with him he cuts me off once again, "No V! Just promise me no more fights! At Least until after the ball."

I sigh annoyed and rub my temples, "Fine, I promise."

He smiles kindly at me and thanks me before leaving my office, shutting the door softly.

I walk up to my desk and sit on my chair, I sigh looking up, Ricardo meeting my gaze.

"Snitch" I say glaring at him, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

~~~

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~ anya ~