???? ?????

                                        

                                              
chapter four
——
🩺 AUDREY "DREY" JACKSON 🩺
                  FRIDAY NIGHT COMES cloaked in humidity and tension. Audrey parks in front of an old, half-lit warehouse at the edge of the city — the kind of place where secrets don't just live, they breathe. The address Nicole sent her had her circling the block twice, unsure if she was being pranked.
She shuts off the engine of her Durango, eyes scanning the chipped brick exterior and boarded windows. A line of people stretches near the entrance, dressed in a mix of streetwear and high-end fashion. The bass from inside throbs through the pavement, rattling her chest. Smoke curls up into the air. Somewhere, a bottle shatters.
She texts Nicole.
 
Are you sure this is the place?
Nicole: Yup. I'm outside now. Come around back.
Audrey rounds the corner, spotting Nicole leaning against the wall in a leather jacket and black cargos, hair in thick curls and a smug little smile on her lips.
"Took you long enough," Nicole teases, pulling her into a hug.
Audrey smirks. "You tryna get me killed? This look like the start of a bad documentary."
Nicole laughs. "Relax, Nurse Jackson. It's a fight night, not a murder scene."
They head in through the back entrance. Inside, the warehouse has been half-transformed into something resembling a fight club lounge. Half. Fluorescent lights flicker above exposed pipes, and the scent of weed, sweat, and overpriced cologne saturates the air. Makeshift booths line the walls where vendors sling drinks in plastic cups. In the center of it all: a battered boxing ring, lit from above like a stage.
"Damn," Audrey murmurs.
People crowd around the ring, already loud, already drunk. A DJ spins trap music on a raised platform near the back, and someone's laughing so hard they choke.
Nicole elbows her. "I told you this'd be better than a lounge."
Audrey lifts an eyebrow. "Better for who?"
They find seats close to the edge of the ring — front row. Nicole's hyped. She's got a flask and bad decisions in her purse. Audrey just sits back, trying to absorb everything. She's alert, tense.
The crowd surges when the announcer hops into the ring, mic in hand.
"Y'ALL BEEN WAITIN' ON IT! I SAID—ARE YOU READY FOR THE FIRST FIGHT OF THE NIGHT?!"
Cheers erupt, drowning out the music. Audrey watches as the first two fighters are introduced — a tall, lean guy in red trunks, and a thick-set woman with power behind her stare. They tap gloves and start swinging. The fight is intense but relatively clean, the crowd reacting to each landed blow like it's a touchdown. The woman wins after ten rounds.
But Audrey can't fully relax. Something about the place puts her on edge. She's starting to wonder if this was a mistake.
Then the next name is called and the crowd goes feral.
"AND NOW RETURNING TO THE RING AFTER THAT LEGENDARY WIN LAST MONTH—STANDING AT SIX FEET OF UNRELENTING HELL—THE UNDEFEATED BEAST—Y'ALL KNOW HER, Y'ALL FEAR HER— REEAAAAPER!"
Audrey tenses at the name hoping that she didn't witness a murder tonight.
She shifts in her seat, heartbeat kicking a little harder as the spotlight hits the curtain near the back entrance. Someone steps out, hood low, fists taped. The lights catch her face as she walks toward the ring—and Audrey's stomach drops.