Page 1 of Talk Howly to Me

ONE

SLOANE

The basement venue reeked of sweat, stale beer, and desperation. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the makeshift ring where Sloane circled her opponent like a predator studying its prey. The crowd pressed against the chain-link barriers as the fight progressed, and their voices were a steady cacophony of bets and bloodlust that she'd learned to tune out months ago.

Roxy bounced on her toes across the mat, all corded muscle and aggression. She'd built her reputation on brute force—charging forward until something broke. Usually her opponents.

Not tonight.

Sloane kept her breathing steady and her stance loose as Tasha's voice echoed in her memory.

"Smart fighters don't chase knockouts. They wait for them."

But ten thousand dollars hung in the balance. Eleven if she could drop Roxy clean. The money would buy her five months of rent. New training equipment. Maybe even time to breathe without constantly calculating how many fights she needed to survive another month.

"Come on, princess!" Roxy snarled, feinting left before throwing a wild haymaker. "Stop dancing around!"

Sloane slipped the punch, letting Roxy's momentum carry her past. The crowd roared approval—half of them had bet against the newcomer who'd been climbing the rankings too fast to ignore.

Let them underestimate me. Makes the payday sweeter.

She'd discovered this world a year ago when desperation finally outweighed pride. A coworker at the nightclub had mentioned the quick money, and Sloane had walked into her first fight expecting to lose gracefully and walk away with enough cash to keep her apartment another month.

Instead, she'd won. Then kept winning.

The underground circuit operated by simple rules: prove yourself in the ring, collect your purse, and disappear until the next fight. No false promises about futures that never materialized. Just violence and money. And for someone who'd spent twelve years in foster care learning that adults made promises they couldn't keep, the brutal simplicity was honest.

Roxy charged again, telegraphing her combinations like an amateur. Sloane sidestepped, landing a sharp jab to her opponent's ribs before dancing out of range.

"Stand still and fight!" Roxy's frustration bled through her voice.

"I am fighting." Sloane's tone remained conversational, which only seemed to infuriate Roxy further.

The crowd's energy shifted as they recognized the pattern developing. Sloane caught sight of Tasha in the front row, her dark eyes tracking every exchange with professional interest. Tasha never cheered, never showed emotion during fights—but her presence anchored Sloane in ways she'd never admit aloud.

Roxy's next combination came faster and more desperate. A right cross that Sloane ducked, followed by an uppercut that whistled past her chin. Close enough to feel the displacement of air.

Getting sloppy. Good.

Sloane countered with a precise combination to Roxy's midsection, feeling her opponent's guard drop as she doubled over slightly. The opening lasted barely a heartbeat, but Sloane had been waiting for it. Her right hook connected with Roxy's temple with a sound like a bat hitting a baseball. Then Roxy's knees buckled. She swayed for a moment, eyes unfocused, before toppling sideways onto the canvas.

The referee's count echoed through the suddenly quiet venue. "Seven... eight... nine..."

Roxy's eyelids fluttered, but she remained motionless.

"Ten! Winner by knockout—Sloane Carter!"

The crowd erupted. Money changed hands rapidly as bookies settled bets. Sloane raised her gloved hands briefly, acknowledging the cheers without really hearing them.

Eleven thousand dollars.

Relief flooded through her chest, followed immediately by the familiar emptiness that always came after victory. Another fight won. Another purse collected. Another step deeper into a life she'd never planned but couldn't afford to leave.

She helped Roxy to her feet, steadying her opponent until the medical staff took over. No matter how much money rode on these fights, Sloane never forgot that her opponents were just trying to survive too.

"Good fight," Roxy mumbled, still slightly dazed.

"You too."