The Gangster Princess

Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fight

Aisha Fancy Lee

After a week of lying in bed, wrapped in bandages and boredom, I was finally able to stand again. But even now, my legs felt like lead, and my muscles screamed in protest. My wounds had barely closed, and yet here I was, being thrown back into chaos-again.

All thanks to that bastard, Reid.

I wanted to break his nose. Maybe crack his jaw while I was at it. He did this. He made me feel powerless. And I hate feeling weak more than anything. One day, he'll get what's coming to him.

My phone rang, slicing through the silence of my room like a blade.

"Who is this?" I asked, irritated.

"Tss, just shut up, Aisha. Get ready. You've got a fight," James said on the other line.

"Whatever," I muttered, already annoyed.

"Tangina, James. Kakagaling ko lang."

"Court. Now. Wag ka na maarte."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone in disbelief. A fight? Now? Seriously?

But something in my gut buzzed with electricity. Maybe it was the thrill I hated to admit I craved. Or maybe, I was just too angry to back down.

I ended the call. A fight? Seriously? I had just recovered from my last injury and now, another fight? Seriously?

But of course, James didn't care. He never did.

I pulled my hair into a tight braid, slipped into my leather gear, and reached under my bed. My weapons glinted under the low light-silver needles laced with toxin, smoke capsules, twin daggers with jagged edges. My signature. Clean. Lethal. Silent.

My tools were waiting.

Silver-needled daggers with hollow tubes for poison. Mini smoke bombs. Stealth blades. Needles thinner than a strand of hair, yet laced with enough venom to paralyze in seconds.

I threw on my jacket, strapped on my helmet, and climbed onto my motorcycle. My one escape. My sanity. Every time the engine roared to life beneath me, I felt invincible-like I was the only one in control.

But not today. Today, I felt like a puppet being yanked around by fate.

I revved the engine and drove off.

The ride was short. Familiar streets blurred past me as I cut through the city, heart pounding faster than the speed I was going.

I was ready.

Or so I thought.

☽ a//z ☾

The underground fight court was hidden beneath an old parking garage. Concrete walls. Broken lights. The crowd cheers echoed like war cries.

Sweat and smoke filled the air. The crowd pressed against the metal barriers, screaming, betting, hungry for blood.

The ring glowed in the center, lit from above by flickering spotlights that swung like nooses.

I stepped inside, eyes scanning the crowd, then landing on the ring.

That's when I saw him.

My opponent.

He stood in the center like he owned the place-back straight, arms crossed, the crowd parting for him like he was royalty. He was tall, probably over six feet. His build was lean, but powerful, like every inch of him had been carved by combat.