PRESENT DAY - Grey Zone.
The blaring alarm screamed like a relentless siren in the middle of an emergency. Regretting ever setting the mechanical beast the night before, Nyx sat up, her light grey eyes squinting shut as the flare of the morning sun pierced through her barely there curtain.
In the Grey Zone, the sun didn't just rise, it exposed the dirt of the world.
She lifted her arms tiredly, the fabric of her thin shirt straining against her shoulders. With practiced ease, she tied her midnight black hair, a stark, ink like contrast to her pale, porcelain skin into a messy bun using the frayed elastic that lived on her wrist.
A headache began its ascent up the right side of her temple, pulsing in a sickening rhythm with the deep bruise on her shoulder.
With a mindless flick of her wrist, she swiped at the vibrating device.
CRASH.
The alarm clock didn't just fall, it flew. It slammed into the far wall with enough force to dent the plaster, wires hanging out like the guts of a puppet on broken strings. Nyx stared at the wreckage, her heart sinking. Another one.
"Darren is going to have my head," she whispered into the dusty air.
Thinking of Darren brought a different kind of ache to her chest. Her younger brother had been slower these past few days his movements heavy, his eyes clouded. It was a glaring signal, a countdown she couldn't ignore. His next dose of suppressant was due, and their cabinet was empty.
Her pale lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. Every movement was a chore as she slid off the bed, her bruised shoulder throbbing. She grabbed the duffel bag she'd tossed on the floor the night before and dumped its contents onto the mattress. A pathetic pile of crumpled bills and clinking coins spilled out.
She counted twice. Then three times. Her face contorted, not just from the physical pain, but from the cold realization that they were far short this month. Not enough for groceries, and certainly not enough for the black market suppressants that kept Darren's brain from frying his own body.
At 5'7", Nyx was built like a weapon lean, athletic, and deceptively strong. In Iron Haven, people were defined by their Ranks. The Nobles sat at the top, A-ranks and S-ranks who could move mountains with a thought. Then there were the "Misfits" like Darren a Telepath with a mind too vast for his frail, sickly body. And then there was Nyx.
Officially, she was a "Zero." No ability. No spark.
But the truth was a secret she carried like a hidden weapon. Since the fire that took her parents when she was thirteen, she had discovered a strength that defied logic. She could lift things men twice her size couldn't budge. She could hit with the force of a wrecking ball.
To the Council the "Auditors" who made sure no one possessed power they couldn't monopolize, she would be an "abnormality" to be dissected.
She had to keep the secret. For Darren.
"No time to mess around," she muttered. She had to go back to the Pit. She needed more fights, higher stakes, and more blood money.
She didn't want to wake Darren. She couldn't stand the look of disappointment he'd give her if he knew she was stepping back into the ring. Moving like a shadow, she grabbed her black leather jacket and stuffed her gear into her bag. She didn't use the door, the hinges creaked too much. Instead, she slipped out the window, dropping two stories into the alleyway with the silent, predatory grace of a cat.
The Club (The Pit).
The transition from the fresh morning air to the stale, sweat soaked basement of the club was jarring.
"Last night was sick," she heard a voice echo from the locker room. "Hey, do you think Nyx is gonna be okay? I saw her holding her right arm stiffly."
"Why don't you ask her yourself? Why ask me?"
"You still having a fight with her? I thought she was your best friend, May."
"Yeah? My best friend. So stay the fuck out of our business!"
The door bounced on its hinges as May stormed out, her ginger hair flaming under the dim fluorescent lights. Nyx leaned against the wall, trying to look invisible, but a second voice caught her.
"Sup, Lucky," Nyx said, trying to sound casual as she spotted May's twin brother.
Lucky, the more tempered half of the ginger duo, smiled as he spotted her. The twins ran the coffee shop above the club a place that smelled like vanilla and peace, a complete contrast to the violence downstairs.
"Eat," Lucky commanded, sliding a slice of her favorite vanilla-crusted pie and a hot chocolate toward her.
"Then go shower. Then we talk."
Nyx ate slowly, feeling the sugar hit her system, but she could hear May mumbling in the next room. The "Mother" of their group was in a mood, and Nyx knew she was the target.
"Don't think I can't hear you breathing, Nyx," May's voice barked from the game room. "Get in here."
Nyx sighed, the weight of her secret life pressing down on her. "I know what I did wrong," she said, stepping into the room with her head down. "I'm sorry."
May didn't look up from the stack of inventory sheets she was aggressively marking. The silence in the small, cramped game room was thick enough to choke on. Usually, this room was filled with the sounds of clicking joysticks and laughter, but now, it felt like a courtroom.
"A waitress, Nyx?" May's voice was low, trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. "That's what you told me. That's what you told Darren. You said you were just clearing tables and dodging drunks for some extra tips."
"May, listen...."
"No!" May finally snapped her head up. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her ginger curls wild. "I went down there last night. I wanted to surprise you. I brought some leftover pie because I knew you hadn't eaten. And what do I see?"
Nyx flinched. The memory of the previous night flashed in her mind the roar of the crowd, the smell of blood and sweat, and the moment her world stopped. She had been in the center of the ring, facing a man twice her size who fought like a rabid dog. She was winning. She was Shadow, the faceless enigma of the Pit.
And then, she had seen her.
May had been standing by the entrance, a small Tupperware container in her hands, her face pale with horror. In that split second of recognition of seeing her best friend realize she was a gladiator Nyx's guard had dropped.
"I saw Shadow," May spat the name like it was poison. "I saw my best friend getting her shoulder driven into the concrete because she looked at me like she'd seen a ghost. You almost died, Nyx! If that brute had aimed for your neck instead of your shoulder, I'd be the one telling Darren why his sister isn't coming home."
Nyx looked down at her boots, the guilt heavier than any weight she'd ever lifted.
"The suppressants are five thousand credits a vial now, May. The coffee shop... your tips... it wasn't enough. Darren's shaking. He's starting to hear voices he can't shut out. I couldn't just sit there and watch him fade away."
"So you decided to throw yourself into a cage with monsters?" May stepped closer, her voice cracking. "You don't even have an ability, Nyx! You're a Zero! Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive? If the Council finds out a 'Zero' is having a strength that cannot be explained , they won't just arrest you. They'll erase you."
"I'm careful," Nyx whispered, though the bruise throbbing on her shoulder made it a lie.
"You weren't careful last night," May countered. She reached out, her fingers hovering over Nyx's injured arm before she pulled back, still too angry to offer comfort. "Lucky knows, doesn't he? That's why he's been so quiet lately."
Nyx didn't answer. Her silence was a confession.
"Get out," May said, turning back to her papers, though her hands were shaking too much to write. "Go fix yourself up. But if you go back in that ring tonight, don't expect me to be the one to stitch you back together. And for God's sake, Nyx... look at yourself. You're becoming someone I don't recognize."
Nyx turned and walked out, each step feeling like she was dragging a mountain behind her. She headed for the back showers, the hot chocolate Lucky had given her now sitting like lead in her stomach.
As she pushed through the heavy steel door of the locker room, she stopped dead. The hair on her arms stood up. The air in the hallway felt suddenly compressed, as if the atmospheric pressure had tripled in a heartbeat.
Standing by the exit was a man she had never seen, yet his presence was so absolute it made the underground club feel small. He was tall, dressed in a tailored black coat that cost more than her entire neighborhood. His hair was as dark as hers, but his eyes... they were a piercing, frozen silver.
He didn't speak. He simply watched her as she passed, his gaze lingering on her "injured" shoulder with a terrifying intensity.
Nyx gripped her duffel bag tighter, her instincts screaming. Danger. Apex predator. She didn't know his name was Malachai Crowe, but for the first time in her life she felt uncertain.