Seraphina’s POV
"I’m in," I said again, because once wasn’t enough. Because I needed to hear myself say it twice to believe I was actually doing this insane thing. "I’ll do it."
Rico’s smile stretched wide across his face. Satisfied. Victorious. Like he’d known all along I’d break.
"I knew it," he said, clapping his hands together once. "I knew you’d say yes. The mont I saw you in that alley, taking down that drunk bastard, I knew you had it in you."
My stomach twisted. "Had what in you?"
"The hunger." His eyes glittered in the harsh warehouse lights. "The desperation. The willingness to do whatever it takes to survive."
God, he made sound like so kind of animal. Maybe I was.
"Look, Sera." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to sothing almost gentle. "I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. I can spot talent, sure. But more than that, I can spot fighters. The ones who don’t quit when it hurts."
"I don’t know if that’s ," I admitted quietly.
"Trust . By the ti I’m done training you, by the ti you step into that ring for real, you’re going to be the best goddamn female fighter this circuit has ever seen."
The words should have made feel better. Should have given confidence or hope or sothing positive.
Instead, they made want to throw up.
What the hell was I doing? Twenty-four hours ago, I was scanning groceries and pretending my life was under control. Now I was agreeing to get punched in the face for money.
"Hey." Rico’s voice cut through my spiral. "You still with ?"
"Yeah." I forced myself to focus. "Yeah, I’m here."
"Good. Because we’ve got a lot of work to do. Training starts tomorrow. Six AM sharp."
Six AM. Of course.
"There’s just one thing," I said before I could lose my nerve.
Rico raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"
My hands were shaking again. I shoved them in my pockets so he wouldn’t see. "I need to ask you for a favor. A really big favor."
"I’m listening."
The words stuck in my throat. Pride and desperation wrestling for control of my tongue. Desperation won.
"I need money," I said, the words coming out in a rush. "Not the fight money. I an, I need that too, but I need money now. Today. Before tomorrow morning."
Rico’s expression didn’t change. "How much?"
"Four hundred and fifty dollars." My voice cracked. "For rent. My landlord is evicting if I don’t pay by noon tomorrow."
Silence.
God, this was humiliating. Here I was, begging a stranger for money like so kind of—
"Why are you short?" Rico asked.
The question caught off guard. "What?"
"Why don’t you have rent money? You work at that grocery store. I saw the uniform when we first t."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I got... scamd. By a coworker. She borrowed money from for a bus ticket ho, said she’d pay back by Friday. She never did. And then my boss docked my pay for damages I didn’t cause, and—"
"And now you’re broke," Rico finished for .
"Yes." The word tasted like failure. "I have forty-seven dollars in my bank account and a landlord who’s going to throw all my stuff on the street in less than twelve hours."
More silence. Rico studied with those sharp, calculating eyes. Probably doing the math on whether I was worth the investnt.
"I’ll pay you back," I said desperately. "I swear. Once I start fighting, once I win so money, I’ll pay you back every cent. And if the fighting doesn’t work out, I’ll find other work. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please—"
"Stop."
I shut my mouth so fast my teeth clicked together.
Rico reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. "How much did you say you needed?"
"Four-fifty for rent. But honestly, I could use a little more. For food and—"
"Let’s make it an even two thousand."
I stared at him. "What?"
"Two thousand dollars." He was already pulling up his banking app. "Should cover your rent, get you so groceries, maybe buy so proper training gear."
My brain short-circuited. "I can’t take two thousand dollars from you. That’s too much!"
"I’m offering two thousand." He looked up from his phone, his expression serious. "Sera, if you’re going to do this—then you need to be able to focus. You can’t focus if you’re worried about where you’re sleeping or what you’re eating."
"But I’ll owe you—"
"You’ll owe a fighter who shows up on ti and gives everything she’s got in training." He went back to his phone, typing sothing. "Consider it an investnt."
An investnt. In . In my ability to get beaten up for entertainnt.
"I don’t know what to say," I whispered.
"Say you’ll quit that grocery store job and focus on training full-ti."
I blinked. "What?"
"The grocery store." Rico looked up again. "You need to quit. Today. Tonight. As soon as possible."
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