Page 10 of Celestial Combat

Throwing punch after punch into the bag with steady, brutal rhythm. She wore black sweats, her hands wrapped tight.

“The gym’s closed.” My voice echoed against the walls.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t even look at me at first. Just threw another punch. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

I exhaled, stepping forward. “You’re stubborn.”

Another hit. Her knuckles collided with the bag, the impact sharp, controlled.

Finally, she turned her head slightly, dark eyes flicking to mine. “And you’re an asshole.”

I smirked, stepping toward her. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

Now we were standing in front of each other. Too close. The air shifted, thickening with something unspoken.

“I don’t need your approval, Zane.”

“Good.” I took another step forward, deliberately closing the space between us.

My breathing slowed and so did hers. The dim lighting cast shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the tension in her jaw. Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something – but then she just exhaled, slow and controlled.

“Because you don’t have it.”

Her gaze sharpened, turning to slits. For a second, I thought she might actually swing at me. I could see the thought flash through her head, the twitch in her fingers.

She scoffed, stepping back, grabbing her things in one fluid motion. “Enjoy your empty gym.”

Then she walked past me, her braids swaying with the movement, and disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.

I didn’t stop her. Didn’t turn around.

But for the first time, I wondered if maybe I’d been too harsh.

And I hated that thought more than anything.

Chapter 5

Present

Midtown, New York City

TWO DAYS LATER. THE WAREHOUSE was alive again. Fighters moved through their drills, sparring.

I stood near the edge, arms folded, watching.

Meisa was in the ring with Tony, and she was ruthless. She struck with sharp, venomous precision, each blow cutting through the air like a blade. Tony met her head-on, forcing her back with brutal counters, but she never wavered. She absorbed, adapted, came back harder.

A brutal right hook slipped past Tony’s guard, cracking against his jaw. He grunted, rolling his shoulders like he actually felt that one. The round ended, but Meisa didn’t relax right away.

I finally spoke. “You fight like you’re trying to kill something.”

Meisa exhaled, dragging the back of her wrist across her forehead. Her dark gaze met mine, steady and unflinching. “Maybe I am.”

Tony leaned against the ropes, amused as hell by whatever was unfolding between us. I ignored him. Took a step closer.

“You shouldn’t fight angry.” My voice was even, flat. It wasn’t concern – it was business. When she stepped into that ring for real, she wouldn’t just be fighting for herself. She’d be fighting under Python. That meant she representedme.If she let emotion cloud her judgment, it wouldn’t just be her loss. It’d bemine.

Meisa’s lip curled, something sharp flashing behind her eyes. “And yet, you built an entire business off it.”

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