Hello my Wicked Ones!

Welcome back to Vengeance. A few new faces around here this week; welcome! We are so happy to have you!

ENDLESS thank-you's to my stellar beta, Fran S. Sunflower, who covered my ass when I forgot to send this chapter to her, and managed to turn it around in record time for me so that it wouldn't be delayed. Thank you also to my pre-reader and French translator, PearlyFox.

Finally, I did see a request to sum up the last chapter, so from now on, I'll throw in a summary/snippet from the last chapter in the AN each week.

Standing in front of the large fireplace along the south wall is a tall, lean man with long, light coppery hair falling into his face. He looks up when he hears us come in, his eyes immediately traveling to Emmett before touching upon Jasper and then finally me. It takes me about ten seconds to read him; the defensiveness of his posture, the rigidity of his spine. His smile is a little cocky, but I don't see that in his eyes, which are hard, ready for anything.

It's clear he's not new to our world.

"Edward Masen," Emmett says, holding a hand out to the man. "Meet the boss, Isabelle."

IV

Le Ring

Edward

Il vaut mieux plier que rompre.

I've never been inside La Cathédrale Ancienne. I don't know many who have. It's one of the oldest buildings in this city and has been closed to the public for well over fifteen years.

I'm intrigued, though not surprised, when Emmett tells me to meet him here. On the outside, The Old Cathedral plays host to one of the most upstanding and philanthropic patrons of our city. At least on the surface. The person I know them to be is cunning, ruthless, and according to rumors whispered in the darkest corners of the filthy underground world I inhabit, tied to nearly every major crime in the state.

The opportunity to meet the boss is tantalizing, and I have to keep reminding myself to stay calm, play smart.

When I arrive at La Cathédrale, a woman with long brown hair greets me, inviting me into a large vestibule. The original Gothic architecture inside the vestibule has been beautifully maintained, and the white stone shines against the glistening white marble floors. Hidden throughout the room are speakers, gently playing what sounds like Gregorian chanting. The disembodied voices ghost through the space, haunting the space.

There is a fireplace along the south wall, and above the mantle is a large wood-paneled Gothic painting. I'm surprised by it, and I stop, staring up at the panel. The gold inlay has been meticulously restored, as has the rest of the paint. If it's an original, which I suspect it is, it's in phenomenal condition.

The painting features a woman, a saint judging by the gold halo around her head, but I don't think she's the Virgin Mary. She holds roses in her hands, and there is a somber, almost motherly look in her eyes.

I briefly wonder why the worst criminals seem to be the most religious. They destroy countless innocent lives then expect God to show them mercy.

As if God can save them from justice.

My knuckles flex reflexively, and I'm about to turn away from the painting when I hear footsteps on the marble. One set heavy, clunking as if walking in boots. One has the light scrape of perhaps dress shoes, but it is the sharp, ringing sound of the stilettos that grab my attention. I look up in time to see Emmett come into the vestibule. His eyes are tight when our gazes meet, and I read his apprehension. He's taking a risk, bringing me into the fold like this.

My eyes move past him and land on the other man, who I recognize immediately; Saint Jasper, perhaps our city's most ruthless criminal. Jasper looks younger in person, his dark hair styled effortlessly, the stubble on his jaw making him look more casual than usual. Even though he's dressed in a perfectly tailored suit I know is obscenely expensive, he's casual, amused even. The look on his face confuses me, and I catalog it away to sort through later.

My eyes finally travel to the woman standing between them.

My throat goes dry looking at her. She's towering in lethal black heels, her blond hair short and slicked back from her face. Everything on her is immaculate, perfectly arranged. She is living artwork, and she knows it.

I can feel her dark eyes assessing me, and I force a cocky smile on my face as I try to read her. She is ice, personified, and I am thoroughly thrown by her.

Who could she possibly be? Why hasn't a woman shown up in any of our profiles of Jasper?

My mind is racing as Emmett holds a hand toward me. "Edward Masen, meet the boss, Isabelle."

Isabelle.

My mind is reeling.

Boss? My eyes cut quickly to Jasper, and Isabelle shifts on her lethal shoes, folding her arms over her chest. I look back at her. She's dressed in a black silk shirt tucked into black fitted slacks. A large designer belt loops around her small waist and the gold of the buckle is the only color on her.

"Masen," she says, her voice low and cool. I have to pull my shit together faster; seeing this woman has completely disarmed me. "I don't know you," she says, stepping toward me. Her shoes snap like gunshots on the marble, and I can feel her watching me, waiting for my reaction.

"I'm equally taken by surprise," I tell her. It seems the right thing to say because her straight spine straightens even further, and her head tilts ever so slightly. I think she's pleased I don't know her.

"I'm very careful," she says slowly, her dark eyes narrowing in on me. I feel like she's X-raying me, and it takes all my training not to flinch under her gaze. The tone of her voice is clear; if things don't work out, I won't live to tell people about her.

"Your discretion is impressive," I say, forcing a playful smile on my lips. Nothing about this woman is playful, but Edward Masen is a cocky shit, and I have to keep it up, or Emmett will notice something is off.

Of course, it occurs to me as I look at Isabelle; I'm not sure Edward Masen has ever crossed paths with someone so deadly. "Cut the crap," she snaps, her voice cutting through the room like a whip. One of my eyebrows goes up reflexively. "What is it you want?"

Her directness throws me again. I glance behind her to Emmett and Jasper, but both men watch her, ready to act at her command. I take a deep breath and look back at the woman before me.

The ice in her eyes burns the truth out of me before I can stop myself. "I want something to fucking matter," I say, shaking my head. I want to take the words back because they are too real, but Isabelle tilts her head again, her eyes narrowing further. I feel like a mortal, facing down a goddess and waiting for judgment.

Finally, she nods.

"Throw him in the Ring," she says, a slight sneer lifting her full red lips. "Emmett."

His name is a command, and Emmett moves across the room, grabbing hold of my arm. I let him pull me out of the vestibule, and I glance back to see Isabelle watching me, her black nails beating out a rhythm on her crossed arms.

When we are through a set of double doors and alone, Emmett lets out a long breath. "Fuck man, I thought she'd kill you then and there."

I glance up at Emmett as he lets go of my arm. Now that we are out of sight of his boss, I'm allowed to walk under my own power, it seems. "Where are we going?"

Emmett glances at me. "The Ring," he says, shrugging. "It's sort of like a rite of passage. We have to prove we can hold our own before Isabelle will consider taking anyone on."

I nod, understanding him. "She demands a blood sacrifice," I mutter. Emmett glances at me over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he agrees. "That's one way to look at it."

I have a million questions for him, but I know better than to ask any. If I'm deemed worthy, Isabelle will bring me into the fold.

I've never failed at anything in my life, and I certainly don't plan to start now.

-V-

Emmett leads me to the East Wing into a much more modern expansion. We head down a flight of stairs, and as we walk, I try desperately to map the building in my mind. Despite the law, no records of La Cathédrale's complete layout exist in any city planning office.

We descend to a basement-level room, and Emmett pushes through a set of doors off the stairwell. The doors lead to a long, blank corridor with cold white walls and bright white lights that cast an eerie pallor over my skin. There are three doors along the corridor, but Emmett passes all of them, heading for the door at the end.

When he pushes it open, he glances back at me. "You ready to fight?"

I look at him. I first made contact with Emmett almost three years ago. I started bonding with him through workouts, and it wasn't long until we were hanging out outside the gym as well. He's never talked about his work, and I've never asked; it's a silent understanding we've held. It's why he probably trusts me now.

"I'm always ready," I tell him, the truth of it making my hands flex. His eyes drop to my fists momentarily before lifting back up to my face.

"I'm rooting for you, man."

It's clear that despite how much he'd like for me to win this fight, a very large part of him doesn't believe I will.

It makes me wonder what it is I'm about to walk into.

Emmett delivers us through another set of double doors. The light changes, becoming less bright, and I blink a few times to adjust to it.

The room is massive, a large training facility that is more equipped than anywhere I've ever seen. I have to grind my teeth together to stop my jaw from falling open in surprise.

"Welcome to the Ring," Emmett says, waving an arm in front of him. "Isabelle likes to keep us all sharp, so we're all down here constantly training," he says, leading me around the room. There are several groups of people training, running different exercises or drills. My eyes flicker over all of them.

"Impressive," I admit, glancing at Emmett. There are easily twenty-five people currently in the room, and I must wonder how big this operation of hers is.

Emmett leads me toward the center of the room, where a large box is outlined in white on the lightly cushioned floors. I immediately recognize the shape of the arena.

"Felix," Emmett calls, and I feel curious eyes across the room turn to look in our direction. The man Emmett has addressed is massive, larger than even Emmett, standing easily at 6'6". Thick ropes of muscle flex in his shoulders and back when he shifts to turn to look at Emmett. I judge him to be strong, certainly, but with so much mass, it's unlikely he's fast. If he's who I am to fight, I'll need to rely on my speed.

Emmett stops a few feet from Felix, and I follow his lead, trying to stay aware of all the people in the gym that have stopped working out and are now focused on our exchange.

"This is Edward," Emmett says, nodding his head in my direction. "Isabelle wants to break him."

I don't know if Emmett means exactly that or if this is code for "breaking in," but either way, his words put me slightly on edge, sharpening my focus.

Felix turns to look at me, his dark eyes assessing. "He's small," he says finally, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. "Might be over too quickly."

His voice is low and carries across the gym. I can feel all eyes on us, people assessing me.

Emmett shrugs one shoulder. "He's stronger than he looks," he says, showing loyalty to me though I probably don't yet deserve it. "And you know Isabelle," he says, tilting his head slightly at the much larger man. "She loves a good fight."

Felix nods, his eyes flickering at something above his head. I glance up and am surprised to see a mezzanine, and there, in the shadows, stand Isabelle and Jasper, watching us with cool detachment.

My eyes meet Isabelle's, and even in the dark and from this distance, I can see her challenge and expectation.

Message fucking received.

"Clear the Ring!" Felix shouts, his voice booming across the room. People around us scatter, and Emmett turns to me.

"People want a show," he warns me. "Don't let pride get you killed. When Felix pins you, surrender. She might still take you on if you show you're smart."

I nod a little, pulling off my jacket. Emmett takes it from me as I work to pull my shirt off as well.

Emmett takes my clothes and pats my shoulder once, offering, I suppose, the only sort of support he can.

I take a deep breath, turning to face Felix. I try to study his movements as he clears the Ring. He's big, and moving slowly, though I know better than to assume he'll be that slow in a fight. He picks up a towel with his right hand and hurls it aside, and I make a note of his dominant hand. He turns to me, his wide chest expanding with his naturally deep breaths.

"We fight until someone submits," he says slowly. "Stay in the Ring."

They are the only two rules that matter, and I nod, taking in a deep breath to steady myself.

In my periphery, I can see people gathered around, watching, but my focus sharpens on Felix, blocking everyone else out.

I have a moment to suck in one more breath before Felix is moving so fast that he catches me off guard. His massive fists come at me, his left hand coming in for a hook I'm unable to step fully away from. The blow rattles my entire body. He's fast as hell, and his large fists are swinging again, giving me no time to gather myself. I manage to dodge the second blow, twisting away from his range. I suck in a rattling breath, and it feels like my ribs are deeply bruised, though I don't think they're cracked.

Felix steps closer to me again, and I'm able to step toward him, my left foot lunging fast, knee still bent as I deliver a jab to his face. His head snaps back, but he recovers almost immediately, and a hit that is meant to give me a little space has failed. I start to step back, hoping to put enough space between us to strategize my next attack, but before I can twist far enough away from him, he's coming at me again, delivering a combination punch that throws me off guard. My balance slips, and Felix takes advantage, hooking his foot around mine and sending me to the ground. As soon as I hit the floor, I roll back up to my feet, bouncing and pacing away from him.

Fuck, he's fast.

I need to be smart. He's stronger than me, and he's got serious speed, though, at my top performance, I'm probably faster. He's had the upper hand this whole time, but now that I've seen his moves, I need to fight smarter, not harder.

I meet his eyes and jerk right before stepping left. It works, and Felix lurches to meet me, but I'm coming on his other side, delivering a blow that forces him to take a step back. It's a small victory, and I start calculating my next move the moment I've delivered this one.

Felix's dark eyes meet mine for a second, and then he's rushing me again, his right hand crossing his body and catching my jaw. My head snaps back, and my body shudders under a series of rapid-fire blows that leaves me breathless. The final punch sends me to the mat, blood spurting out of my mouth upon impact. I can hear the din of people around us, some cheering, some calling out boos.

My body protests as I scrape myself to my feet. Felix looks at me, his dark eyes wary. "Stay down, kid," he says, his deep voice moving across the Ring. "Don't try to be a hero."

I spit a wad of blood down on the mat, settling back on my toes. Felix changes his stance, readying for another attack. I take the offensive this time, rushing him.

Felix's body twists, so I'm sliding under his left arm. It seems like a missed opportunity for me, but I reach up, fisting the back of his shirt, right at his left shoulder blade. Yanking hard on the material with my right hand, I step out, my left foot pivoting as I deliver a left hook to his abdomen. He grunts, twisting to try to get me away from him, but I twist with him, delivering a second blow. His massive arm comes up across his body, trying to block my blows, but I change levels, hitting him high and low, too fast for him to adjust. He's getting frustrated, and I feel him getting angry. He's sloppier when he's mad, and I take advantage, throwing as much power as I can into the left hook to his jaw. The blow lands, and Felix goes flying back. I barely step out of his way as his body slams heavily into the mat.

The room is silent, my heavy breathing the only audible sound. I can feel the shock rippling through the room as everyone stares at me. I shake out my left hand, biting back a wince when I realize I have probably fractured it. I glance around the Ring, at the faces staring at me in stunned silence. I let out a heavy breath, my eyes lifting to Isabelle. Almost as one, everyone in the room turns to look up at her as well.

Her cold eyes are on me. I can feel them burning me through the darkness. She tilts her head slightly before turning to Jasper. He watches her, and I can sense they are having some sort of silent communication. Finally, Isabelle looks back at me. Her long, sharp fingers tap the banister in front of her three times before her arms drop to her sides. Without any further acknowledgment, she turns on her heel and leaves, disappearing into the shadows above.

The moment she's gone, a collective breath is released around the room.

Emmett is suddenly by my side, slapping my back so hard, it knocks the wind out of me. I stagger forward, my body screaming in protest under his playful blow. "Fucking hell, man," he crows, shaking his head. "That was insane!"

I glance back at him, forcing my body straight. "I take it that since she's not down here killing me, that I passed?" I rasp. Emmett chuckles, hooking an arm around my shoulders. The weight of his arm nearly buckles my knees.

"Yeah, man, that response was practically glowing." He pats my shoulder, and I wince. "Come on, man. Let's get you settled in before I head back out."

Whew! Well, Edward's not dead and it looks like he's gotten the boss's approval... for now.

I want to take a moment to thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I pour a lot of heart and soul into everything I write, and this is a brand new piece of me that has yet to be discovered. I'm so honored you are all here to join me in this exploration.

Translations:

1. Le Ring - The Ring (French)

2. Il vaut mieux plier que rompre - Better to bend than break (French)

3. La Cathédrale Ancienne - The Old Cathedral (French)