Blood and Horsemen

Enter the Ring

The heavy, metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the distant echo of clashing fists. The underground club, aptly named **Bloodsport**, was a maze of dimly lit corridors and shadowed corners where bets were made, fortunes were lost, and the strong ruled. It was a place where fear didn't exist—only survival.

River Killian Dervishi, dressed see-through lace, flared pants with black shorts under them and a thick strapped tank top, leaned casually against the wall, watching the latest fight unfold. Her dark eyes, sharp and calculating, followed every move of the brawlers in the ring. They were decent, but they had nothing on her. She could take them both out in under a minute.

The crowd erupted in a roar as one of the fighters hit the mat, knocked out cold. A smirk played on her lips. Bloodsport always attracted its fair share of hopefuls and amateurs. But this world wasn't kind to the weak. Only the fearless and ruthless survived here, and River? She was both.

As she straightened up, ready to leave the underground ring for the night, She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it. Every fight she entered was a message: she wasn't here to play games.

"Dervishi!"

Her name sliced through the noise like a whip. River turned her head, spotting the hulking figure of Rafe, the club's unofficial enforcer, pushing through the crowd. His eyes were hard, his jaw set in a grim line as he motioned her over.

"Got someone who wants a word with you," Rafe grunted as she approached. "You're in demand tonight."

River raised an eyebrow but followed Rafe down the dimly lit hallway. It wasn't unusual for people to want to meet her—either to challenge her or try to recruit her. But she wasn't interested in alliances. She fought solo. She thrived on being untouchable, unpredictable. And yet, something in the air tonight felt different. The energy was tense, charged.

As they reached a back room, Rafe nodded at the door. "They're waiting inside. Be careful, Dervishi. These aren't your average punks."

"I never needed a warning," she said, pushing open the door without a second thought.

The room was lit by a single low-hanging bulb, casting long shadows over the figures seated around a large, circular table. River's gaze immediately locked onto four men, each radiating an aura of power and danger. She knew who they were before they even spoke—Damon Torrance, Kai Mori, Michael Crist, and Will Grayson III. The infamous Horsemen. Kings of the underground world.

"Well, well," Damon drawled, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The legendary River Dervishi. We've heard a lot about you kill." he says using my middle name that most everybody used my middle name is Killian and they call me kill.

Kai leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp and appraising. "They say you're the best in Bloodsport."

"I don't care what 'they' say," River shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"

Michael's gaze was cold, calculating, but it was Will Grayson who spoke next. His green eyes sparkled with a dangerous mix of curiosity and mischief, his tattooed arms resting casually on the table.

"We're not here to cause trouble," Will said, his voice smooth but with an edge of something darker. "We're here to offer you a deal."

River's lips twitched into a smirk. "A deal? From the almighty Horsemen? I'm not interested."

"You haven't even heard what it is yet," Will said, unfazed by her dismissal. His gaze held hers, the tension between them crackling like static electricity.

"I don't need to. I don't work for anyone. Especially not a group of spoiled, arrogant pricks who think they run the world," River shot back, her voice like steel.

Damon's smile widened, his eyes glittering with amusement. "That's exactly why we want you, Dervishi. You're a wild card, just like us."

River's eyes narrowed, her muscles tensing. She wasn't here to be played, and she could smell manipulation from a mile away. "You think you can use me? You think you can fuck with me?"

Will leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "No one's fucking with you, River. We're offering you a chance to be part of something bigger."

"I don't need your games," she said, stepping back toward the door. "And you don't want to test me."

Will's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider, more dangerous. "Maybe I do."

For a second, the room went silent, the weight of their unspoken challenge hanging between them. But River wasn't afraid. She never was. She lived for moments like this—when the tension was thick, when she could feel the power shift, and when she knew she held the upper hand.

With a slow, deliberate movement, River turned and walked out of the room, her boots echoing in the hallway. The Horsemen might think they ruled the underground, but they were about to learn that in her world, no one could control her.

And as for Will Grayson? He didn't know it yet, but he'd just started a game he had no hope of winning.