Haru's POV
They say obsession starts with a single thought.
Mine started with silence.
Her silence.
The way she took that slap in the bathroom without flinching. The way she stared past pain like it was just another item on her list of things to carry. That kind of silence doesn't come from strength.
It comes from being broken too many times to scream anymore.
And I wanted to know who broke her.
So I could break them.
I waited by the warehouse entrance like I wasn't counting every second since I sent her the message.
She showed up, eventually.
Soaked from the rain. Bag on her shoulder. Hair stuck to her cheeks.
No makeup. No effort. No emotion.
Still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She stood just outside the door, watching the flickering red lights spill from inside. The sound of fists against flesh. The crowd's animal screams. Metal grating on steel.
"You brought me here to fight?" she asked.
"No.""You brought me here to watch?""Yes.""Why?""So you'd see where you belong."
She didn't move.
Didn't answer.
But she didn't leave.
Inside, the air reeked of sweat and iron.
My world.
Where no one pretended to be nice. Where power wasn't talked about — it was earned.
Aara followed behind me, expression unreadable, but I could feel it — her breath had changed. Faster. Quieter.
She was used to violence.
But not like this.
"Is this a warning?" she asked as we reached the cage.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
I looked over my shoulder.
My voice dropped low — just for her.
"This is a mirror."
She didn't reply.
I guided her to the upper ledge — a narrow balcony where the VIPs watched. I owned this spot. No one came near unless I let them.
She stood with her arms crossed, pretending not to react.
But I saw it.
The way her fingers twitched when the first punch landed below.The way her eyes followed every drop of blood.The way her shoulders tensed when the loser screamed.
"You hate it," I murmured.
She didn't look at me. "I live it."
"Not like this."
"Don't pretend you understand me."
"I don't," I said. "But I will."
The match ended. One fighter dragged off. Another left limping.
Cheers. Screams. Money thrown.
Aara turned to leave.
I blocked her path.
She looked up, finally — meeting my eyes like she wasn't afraid of the monster she knew I was.
"Move."
"No."
"You brought me here. I came. I saw. It's done."
"It's not."
"Then say what you want to say."
I stepped closer.
She didn't back away.
So I touched her face — softly. The cheek that was bruised.
She let me. But only for a second.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
Her grip was strong.
Stronger than most men down there in the ring.
"You think I'm yours now?" she asked, voice like smoke.
I smirked.
"No.""I think I already was."
For a moment, she didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then she shoved my hand away.
And I let her.
Because this isn't a sprint.It's a hunt.
And prey that doesn't run?That's the kind you keep.
Later that night, after she left, I stayed behind.
Everyone else was gone.
I stood in the middle of the cage.
Alone.
I looked up at the ledge where she stood.
And I smiled.
Because this wasn't just a game anymore.
It was war.
And I was done watching.