Page 43 of Mafia Princess

The air is crisp as I hurry to the underground fights. Walking through Verona at night, you can almost imagine yourself in some quaint little town in Italy.

The guy at the door looks me up and down. “Name?”

“Maya Capelli.” Like he doesn’t fucking know who I am.

He regards me for a moment, stamps my hand, and lets me enter. Fucking lucky, or I would have beaten his ass until one of the Russo cousins came to save him.

The tang of metallic mixed with sweat permeates the area and the sounds of cheering and blunt thuds is like music to my ears. My skin prickles at the tantalizing mix and a cool shiver spreads over my body, letting me know I’m ready.

I make my way past the crowds and spot the three sitting on their thrones above the rest of the crowd. I try to conceal myself in the back as I scoot along and enter the area where the fighters wait.

I strip my jeans and hoodie off, already dressed in my tank and booty shorts, and throw them in the corner. I feel the eyes of the fighters on me, probably wondering what the fuck a female is doing back here. I push past them and zero in on the guy in charge.

“Hey, I’m up next. Got any spare gloves?” I stand with my hands on my hips, waiting for him to argue.

He doesn’t. With a sly smirk, he nods to the floor to my right where a container of discarded gloves sits, already covered in blood. “Take your pick.”

I find a pair that are almost the right size and some blood-stained wraps. You can’t complain when you didn’t bring your own set of gear. I wrap my hands and shove them in the gloves, instant adrenaline spiking through me. I punch the gloves together and jog on the spot, trying to warm up my muscles the best I can. I usually spend a good thirty minutes stretching and warming up before a fight, but there’s no time, the fight in the ring is over. The fighter who just got knocked out is getting dragged out of the cage.

“Up you go.” The guy in charge points to the fighting cage and hands me a helmet.

“No thanks, I like the feel of the glove against my skull.” I wink at him and step into the cage.

The roar of the crowd pumps through my head and I charge for my opponent before he can think twice and realize he’s about to fight a female. I manage to land a glove on his jaw, making him stumble back a few steps.

“You fucking little bitch.” He comes out of his surprised daze as his gloves come up in defense mode.

Attaboy.

I know I need to be quick before Luca realizes my crazy ass is in his cage, and he murders this dude for punching me. But right now, I soak in the atmosphere for a few moments before I set upon my opponent again.

“Come at me, Princess,” he shouts as he swings his glove and tries to jab me in the ribs.

I growl and sidestep away from him, my footing on point. “Gladly.”

“Doesn’t fucking look like it, Princess.” He grins at me as his glove comes flying at my head.

I duck in time to dodge a hit to the face and slam my glove into his side, making him wince in pain.

“That’s my girl.” He throws a jab at me and connects with the side of my jaw, sending shooting pain down my neck. I step back again, bouncing on the balls of my feet, and spit the blood pooling in my mouth at the cage floor.

The crowd roars in encouragement but I know he’s holding back because I’m female, which pisses me off and makes my rage burn deeper. The pain feels good, as though it has brought me alive again. This sick part of me misses the throbbing aches and the rush of adrenaline when I’m in the fighting ring. I have all but a few seconds left of this fight before the Russo cousins come charging in, so I know I need to step my game up.

My opponent lunges forward and his right hook comes swinging at my face but I slip under it. “Too slow, old-timer.” Popping back up, I slam my fist into his ribs, making him grunt.

His right glove comes at my face again and I block his jab and throw a punch at him, connecting with the side of his head. I bounce back on the balls of my feet, waiting for his next move.

The booming sound of a loud horn echoes through the speakers, catching me off guard for a moment. A sharp blow to my gut knocks the air out of my lungs.

“Fuck, yes,” I cough as I try to suck in air. About time this Thor wannabe stepped up and fought like a man.

My eyes lock with his as he’s wrestled to the ground, the confusion in both our faces mirroring each other. The crowd boos at this sudden turn of events. I straighten up my stance and take in deep breaths, my gloves resting on top of my head to open up my lungs.

Luca and Dante climb in the cage and help the guy up off the floor, dismissing their right-hand man. Dante grins at me as he walks toward me, holding his fist up for me to tap with my glove.

“Fuck, I’d hate to be Luca when he pisses you off,” Dante chuckles as he exits the cage.

Standing in the middle of the cage, with the crowd booing and chanting, I watch Luca link arms and half-hug my opponent. My muscles burn with the need to fight, a fire in my gut slowly simmering as I come down from my short-lived high.

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