Lachlan
The rain in Detroit didn't come down clean. It carried dust, smoke, the taste of exhaust. By the time I got back to the gym, my hoodie was plastered to my skin, heavy as chainmail.
I toed my shoes off at the door, careful not to track mud across the mats. The place was quiet now—bags swaying from earlier rounds, faint echoes of pads still clapping in my head. The silence wasn't empty, though. It had weight, like something had been left behind waiting to be picked up.
I sat on the ring apron and unwrapped my hands slow. The gauze was damp, not just from sweat but from the rain that had worked its way through. My knuckles looked raw, skin stretched thin. I flexed them, and they answered back with that dull throb fighters come to trust more than applause.
A sound came from the office—just a chair scraping, papers being shuffled. Chiron never really slept. He lived half his life waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Long night?" I asked, stepping into the doorway.
He didn't look up right away. He was bent over that ledger again, the one he never left open around anyone else. His pencil moved like it was cutting more than writing.
"Longer than it should be," he said finally, setting the pencil down. His eyes found mine, sharp, but softer at the edges than usual. "You walked home in this mess?"
"Wanted to feel the city." I shrugged. "Rain makes it easier to think."
"Thinking's a dangerous habit," he said. "Especially when men are already thinking for you."
I leaned against the doorframe. "You mean the envelopes."
He didn't confirm. Didn't need to. His silence was confirmation enough.
I thought about the invitation he hadn't shown me. I knew he was shielding me, same way he had in San Diego, same way he did every time I started looking too far ahead. But I wasn't blind. I could feel the pull, like a tide dragging at my ankles.
"What happens if I don't answer?" I asked.
Chiron exhaled through his nose, slow. "Then they'll come louder. They'll bring more weight. They'll test how much you're willing to bend."
"And if I do answer?"
"Then you step into a room where they already wrote your part." He leaned back in his chair. "Doesn't matter what they offer—it'll come with a leash."
The rain hammered harder against the gym windows, a sudden burst that made the glass rattle. I stared at the streaks sliding down the pane and tried to picture Thailand, the place that kept bleeding into my dreams. I tried to picture faces that weren't just fragments. My father's hand on my shoulder. Ariel's voice, faint like a song remembered half wrong.
"I'm not for sale," I said finally.
Chiron studied me. "Good. Then keep reminding yourself of that when the price starts sounding fair."
I nodded, but the weight didn't leave. If anything, it pressed down harder.
That night, when I finally lay down in the back room, I couldn't sleep. The rain had stopped, leaving the city too quiet. I swore I heard a car idling outside, headlights sweeping across the far wall before disappearing. I told myself it was nothing. Just a passerby.
Still, I slept with my fists closed.