Page 45 of Ignite

“Yeah. I do.”

“Good. Don’t scare her off. Keep it light. From a distance. If it turns bad, I’ll clean it up.”

His grey eyes flash. That gleam—cold, clinical—means only one thing.

Finn’s version of “cleaning up” is the kind that ends lives and erases the mess without a trace.

Me? I’m the brutal kind. Smash the skull, leave the body. Let people remember.

Like James Bowen. Front row execution.

“You coming to my fight?” I ask.

“Wouldn’t miss it. In case you need backup.”

“I’m getting better. This is pro fighting, not underground anymore. I can’t lose my head. Don’t wanna rot in jail.”

He chuckles.

“Right. Staying on the right side of the law. How many people have you killed since James? Outside of the cage?”

I smirk.

“Still less than you, psycho.”

“That’s not a brag, Conan.”

I pause.

“Is Hallie working today?”

He checks his watch.

“Yeah. For another hour, I think.”

I push up from the stool. I know where I’m going before I hit the gym.

Jogging through the hospital corridor,I glance at the clock.

Twenty minutes left on her shift.

The nurse behind the front desk watches me like I’m a walking, talking fantasy.

“Hey. I’m here to see Hallie. Dr. Quinn sent me.”

Name drop my brother. Instant access.

She taps her keyboard, clicking her pen.

“Sorry, sir. You just missed her. Finished ten minutes ago.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, clenching my fists.

Guess I’m heading to her house next.

“Was it medical or personal?” she asks.

“Personal. It’s important.”