The Elements of Rage | ✔

• S I X •

"I needed a hug but all they gave me was a box of matches and a knife."

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Rage's POV

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With a sleepy groan, I wake up and stretch, reluctant to get out of bed. Thankfully, I don't have to go to school today. That doesn't mean I can sleep the day away, though. Climbing out of bed, I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt before making sure my butterfly necklace is still on.

My feet hit the cold floor of the tiled hallway, helping me wake up more as I head into the small kitchen to get a hard-boiled egg out of the fridge for breakfast. Popping it into my mouth, I look around until I find my shoes.

Ten minutes later, I am leaving the house with my black backpack and heading to the restaurant from yesterday, Chess. I didn't understand the name at first, but since the owner is named Rook, it makes more sense. Besides, the place has black and white checkered tiling like a chess board and there are a few tables in the back for people to play chess at. I head to the desk where a new person is standing.

"Hi, I'm Rage," I tell him. "Alyss said to come back today to drop off my number."

He looks up from the computer and freezes a bit when he sees me. I probably startled him and my eyes only made it worse.

"Okay, she did mention something about a new employee," He replies, recovering quickly. "My name is Thorne."

"Here's my number," I announce, handing him a piece of paper with my number on it that I retrieved from my backpack.

His green eyes widen comically.

Giving him a funny look, I say, "So you can enter it in the system? Ring any bells?"

A blush spreads over Thorne's face as his brows lower into a frown. "I'll put it in now."

Nodding, I say, "Bye."

Turning on my heel, I stride out of the restaurant and decide that I need to work on my combat skills. And what better way to do that than in an underground ring?

I head toward the dangerous part of town, my neighborhood. A shiver of excitement runs down my spine.

Turning the corner, I spot the same man I did yesterday. He is lurking around, just like he was yesterday. Today, though, he sports a black eye and clearly broken nose. Chances are, he has at least a clue as to where the ring is.

"Excuse me?" I call, trying to be polite. "Where is the ring?"

"What ring?" He says, his voice scratchy and harsh.

"The underground fighting one," I reply, quickly losing patience as I get closer to him.

"Please," He scoffs. "A little girl like you doesn't need to know that. Shouldn't you be in school?"

I grab him by the throat in an iron grip.

"No, I got suspended for violence," I hiss, a dangerous gleam in my eye. "Now, tell me where the ring is."

He gasps for air and, after I loosen my grip a bit, chokes out an address.

Dropping him, I snort, "Was that really so hard?"

Stepping over him, I walk to the address, a bounce in my step. It doesn't take long before I find the gym. The ring is most likely in the basement. This certainly isn't the first fight club that I've been to and I've found a few consistencies in them.