Uncontrollable

➳ chapter two

A few hours later, the sky had darkened, dim stars flickering against the pitch black, and her stomach continued to turn. Her conversation with Daisy had only confirmed that she'd turned her back on Vincent when he'd needed her most, and he wasn't the only one who would suffer for it. Teresa hadn't stirred since she'd crawled into her bed for a nap, and Astrid didn't want to bother Daisy with her guilt.

As nighttime fell, Astrid left the safety of the warehouse to wander deep into the heart of Kempton. A bustling city, anyone could see that lack of state funding had caused it to become decrepit over time. With run-down apartment buildings making up most of the architecture, poor school systems, and a crumbling police force, it was no wonder why the city had ended up the way it was today. Crime ran the streets, most turning towards it if they weren't fortunate enough to escape, and if you couldn't sneak your way into the wealthy business circles of town, your options were limited.

It was a recipe for disaster from the very beginning. When the school administrations couldn't afford to give children the boost they needed to leave, they were stuck into the never-ending circle of misfortune that came with Kempton.

Astrid had been lucky to live with her aunt on the outskirts in a small one-story home that had since been sold to a young family struggling to be eligible for one of the school districts in the surrounding area. She couldn't afford to keep the home. Anyway, it wasn't necessary. Her aunt was gone now. Dead.

The thought sent a pang into her chest.

Several bars littered the buildings of the city, and most were controlled by a certain gang who frequented the place more than actual customers. But Belowdeck was a neutral zone, free to anyone who wished to enter, but the real appeal lay in the basement underneath.

The Pits: a underground bar surrounding a fighting cage in which many came to gamble and share information. There were no shortage of eager eyes or ears in the place, but Astrid would never miss the chance to seize easy money.

And tonight, there was money to be won. The Attacker was fighting.

That was why she sat at the bar by herself, her legs swinging from the barstool as she scanned the ground floor. A few pairs of eyes swept over her, acknowledging her presence, and while she recognized most of the faces in the room, there were none she knew well enough to acknowledge. Most sat at the two- to three-people tables set around the cage, its metal winding up to the ceiling.

She'd never stepped foot in that cage. Once you did, there were no rules as to how you won—except for no cheap shots below the belt and no weapons. The only weapons allowed within were the people themselves, and sure enough, old blood still coated the metal. When blood was spilled, people bet—and gained if they were smart enough to pick out the clear winner.

Astrid tried not to gamble much, but it was irresistible when she knew who would win. The opponent tonight was a beefy man in his early twenties, with his arms corded with muscle and a determined step, but she knew he wouldn't walk out as the winner.

Suddenly, someone slid into the seat beside her, and Astrid moved to rise until she realized who it was. Aaron Belmont raised his eyebrows at her in a cheeky manner, and she lowered herself back into her seat.

The Attacker. Aaron Belmont. One of the members of the Soldiers' Inner Circle, and a skilled fighter.

His title had been well earned. Despite the fact that his height and age put him at a disadvantage, he had enough speed and nerve that he held a winning streak at the Pits, knocking anyone who dared to challenge him in their place. The last time she'd seen him lose a fight felt like an eternity ago, and that had been when he'd first learned how. Ever since, he'd dominated the underground fighting ring.