Dangers in my Heart

Chapter 2

Lisa's POV

The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the darkened alley. A cold wind swept through, carrying the metallic scent of blood and the muffled groans of men who had underestimated me. My knuckles ached, but I didn't care. Pain was an old friend.

The Ravens had crossed a line again, this time ambushing one of my runners and leaving his body on my turf as a message. Stupid move. Messages went both ways, and tonight, I was delivering mine—loud and clear.

Four of them stood in a semicircle, their faces twisted with bravado that reeked of desperation. Their leader, a hulking man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw, sneered as he twirled a crowbar in his hand.

"You should've stayed in your castle, Manoban," he growled. "This isn't your playground."

I tilted my head, a ghost of a smirk curling my lips. "And yet here I am."

The tension snapped like a coiled spring, and he lunged at me.

I sidestepped, fluid and calculated, my body moving like water. The crowbar grazed the air where I'd been a second ago, its arc leaving him wide open. My elbow met his jaw with a crack that sent him stumbling back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He barely had time to register the pain before I drove my knee into his gut, forcing the air from his lungs in a wheeze.

The others charged.

The first swung a chain, its links glinting in the dim streetlight. I caught it mid-swing, yanking hard enough to pull him off balance. A swift kick to his chest sent him sprawling to the ground, the chain slipping from his grasp.

Another came at me with a knife, the blade flashing as he aimed for my throat. I dodged, grabbing his wrist and twisting until I felt the satisfying snap of bone. He screamed, but the sound was cut short when I slammed the side of his head into the brick wall.

The fourth guy hesitated, his confidence crumbling as he glanced at his fallen comrades. He pulled out a gun, his hands shaking as he pointed it at me.

"Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

I didn't.

My movements were a blur. I closed the distance before he could pull the trigger, grabbing his wrist and twisting the weapon from his grip. My fist met his face, and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose as blood poured between his fingers.

Scarface was back on his feet, rage twisting his features. He swung the crowbar again, and this time, I caught it, the cold steel biting into my palm.

"You made a mistake," I said, my voice icy.

With a single, powerful yank, I disarmed him, the crowbar clattering to the ground. I didn't need weapons. My fist drove into his ribs, and I felt the crack of bone beneath my knuckles. He doubled over, wheezing, and I grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

"This city belongs to me," I hissed, my voice low and venomous. "You don't send messages. You don't cross my lines. You don't breathe without my permission."

He glared at me, defiance flickering in his bloodshot eyes. "You think you're untouchable?" he spat, blood staining his teeth.

I leaned in, my gaze piercing through him. "I don't think. I know."

I let him drop to the ground, his body slumping like a broken doll. Turning to my men, who had been watching silently, I gave a curt nod.

"Clean this up," I ordered. "Leave one breathing. Let him spread the word."

As I walked away, the adrenaline still thrumming in my veins, I felt the familiar coldness settle over me. Mercy wasn't in my vocabulary. Fear was my currency, and tonight, I'd made another deposit.

The city was a battlefield, and I wasn't just a player. I was the queen.