Lana POV
The text came just after midnight.
“Tomorrow. 10 p.m. You know where. –J”
I didn’t need to ask. I already knew.
Julian had told me once about a private fighting ring beneath a jazz club in Vienna—an old cellar-turned-underground boxing arena where reputations were bruised and egos bled out under dim lights and roaring men in tailored suits.
I never thought I’d be the reason two men would meet there to tear each other apart.
And yet, here I was.
The room was thick with smoke, cologne, and money.
Somewhere behind the bar, a trumpet played a sultry tune, but it was muffled by the deeper rhythm of leather gloves hitting flesh, of sweat hitting stone.
Artemis and Julian stood across from each other in the makeshift ring. Shirtless. Hands taped. Fury restrained by nothing but a
