Chapter 3 A Warm Batch Of Bald Cookies

Alana's POV

Do you ever notice that when a man wants you he knows how to say the right words?

The right lies and the right smiles.

It's after something tragic that you really put your walls up.

And you promise your heart that you'll never put it through that pain again.

It's Saturday and I'm officially off today.

Slipping on my camouflage jumper, I only slide on a Nike sports bra under it leaving the left side hanging.

My bare feet padded through the house and I admired the yellow-themed haven. Walking into the kitchen, I call my chubby bulldog, Lion.

"Here boy," I call out and he comes running.

"Gosh, I need to put you on a diet." I joke struggling to pick up. He whines as if he understood what I'm saying and I giggle.

"I'm only kidding, ready for breakfast?" He barks scratching to get down and he runs to his bowl.

I'm telling you this dog understands what I'm saying.

I pour him some dog food and he greedily eats. Throwing some onto the ground, I know he would clean it with his mouth late anyway

"I'll make something later," I tell him.

Yes. . . I cook for my dog. What can I say? He's spoilt.

I put on my combat boots and head over to my garage locking my front door. Opening it up, I choose my bike instead of the cars because of where I'm going.

If someone could see where I am now compared to where I was, they would be amazed.

Skidding off, I lean forward enjoying the thrill of the fast contraption. The wind in my hair felt great as always and I never get tired of it.

Stopping at the shady half-broken building I turn off my bike and walk across to the door. My boots hit hard against the gravel and all that could be heard was the crunching underneath my feet as I marked my footprints.

I knocked on the door and someone spoke from behind it.

"Password?"

"Red lights, blue lights, Run." I murmur, recalling the phrase that I learned since I started ‘business’ here. It referred to police cars. If they show up, you get out of there as quickly as possible.

The door creaked open and I sauntered into the familiar sound of roaring. The smell of sweat, smoke, and alcohol fill my nose and its home sweet home.

It's surprising where life can take you, but after what happened seven years ago, this place was the only one I could actually feel safe.

The abandoned building was a secret fighting ground.

I came here every Saturday, just to relieve my stress or watch someone else take it out on a rude, arrogant bastard.

But you know, it all works out.

"Alana!" Someone yells and I turn to find George, one of my favorite bodyguards and the owner. I grin as he approaches me and pulls me into a hug.

"Hey, George." I greet breathing in his scent. He smelled nothing like here. He was just a huge batch of warm cookies. Which was quite confusing because of his status. He was 6'4 with shoulders so wide a wall couldn't compete with it. His muscles were bulging and he was . . . bald.

But still, he smiled down at me so warmly.

"You fighting today princess?" He smiled but I don't miss the disapproving look that stood behind it.

"Yea, I think so. Sign my name for me yea?" I choose to ignore it and he sighs.

"Alright." He nods patting my back and I move towards the crowd where they all scream for their preferred fighter and I carefully analyze the fighters.

The one on the right uses his muscles. Depending solely on his strength which is honestly why he's losing. But the one on the right is smart. He uses his brain, blocking and predicting his opponent's next move.

He was the one I was going to fight and I couldn't get over how fun this was going to be.