Pawns Of Deception

Chapter 1

ISADORA’S POV

I was getting bored.

The underground fight club had sounded exciting when Misha first mentioned it, but after watching two matches back-to-back, I realized there was only so much terrible fighting I could tolerate.

The warehouse echoed with cheers as two men circled each other inside a steel cage. Sweat stained the canvas beneath their feet while money exchanged hands around me. Cigarette smoke curled through the air, mixing with the smell of blood, alcohol, and rust.

The man in blue threw another lazy punch.

I scoffed.

“What an i***t,” I muttered under my breath.

The stranger standing beside me glanced over.

“You think?”

“He keeps dropping his left shoulder before every swing.” I folded my arms, my attention still fixed on the cage. “If he doesn’t fix it, he’ll be on the floor in five seconds.”

The stranger looked amused.

As if the fighter had heard me and decided to prove my point, he threw the exact same punch again.

His opponent ducked with ease and drove a clean uppercut into his jaw. The man in blue staggered before crashing onto the canvas, and the warehouse erupted with cheers almost instantly.

I couldn’t help smiling to myself.

“Told you.”

Without waiting for a response, I slipped through the sea of people.

Misha was late. That was typical. I checked my phone again, hoping I’d somehow missed a call, but the screen was just as empty as it had been five minutes ago. Standing around waiting wasn’t going to make him show up any faster, so I turned away from the cage and wandered deeper into the warehouse, letting curiosity lead the way.

The deeper I went into the warehouse, the quieter it became. The loud cheers faded behind thick concrete walls until all I could hear were distant voices and the occasional thud from another room.

The place was bigger than it looked from outside.

Metal doors lined the hallway. Some were locked. Others were slightly open, revealing men counting cash, loading crates, or arguing over things I had no interest in knowing.

I kept walking, my footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor. Curiosity had always been my worst habit, and tonight was no different. One door at the end of the corridor stood slightly ajar, muffled voices spilling through the narrow gap. Just as I was about to walk past it, the sound of a heavy punch landed, followed by another a second later.

I paused, then slowly pushed the door open just enough to see what was happening inside.

A man was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, his face already bruised beyond recognition. Around him stood half a dozen men dressed in black.

One of them drove another punch into his ribs, the sickening thud echoing through the room. Instead of looking away like any sane person would, I found myself smiling, genuinely impressed by the force behind it.

“Now that’s more like it,” I said out loud.

Every head turned as silence swallowed the room.

I blinked.

“…Don’t mind me,” I said with a small shrug. “Carry on.”

I was already turning away when hurried footsteps sounded behind me.

“Boss, should we—”

“No.”

The single word brought everyone to an immediate halt. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough authority to silence the room. The footsteps behind me stopped just as quickly as they had started.

I didn’t bother looking back.

Whoever he was, whatever business they were handling, it wasn’t mine.

I’d barely been outside for three minutes when the cool night air began to clear my head. The warehouse sat on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by abandoned factories and rows of parked motorcycles that looked as worn out as the buildings themselves. Somewhere in the distance, a train rumbled past, its sound cutting through the quiet before fading into the night.

“You always interrupt meetings like that?” a voice asked, pulling my attention.

I turned. A few steps away stood the man from the room, one hand tucked into the pocket of his black trousers.

Under the yellow security light, I finally saw him properly. He was taller than I’d expected, with broad shoulders.

“I didn’t interrupt,” I replied. “I gave constructive criticism.”

His face was sharp enough to cut glass, but it was the scar slicing through his left eyebrow that caught my attention.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“So that’s what we’re calling it now?”

“That is what it is,” I said, looking away before looking back at him.

My attention drifted to his hair. It was dark and soft-looking… the kind that made me wonder how it would feel between my fingers.

For a moment, neither of us spoke as his eyes stayed on mine. They were dark, the kind that screamed danger.

“You weren’t disgusted,” he said.

“Should I have been?”

“Most people are.”

“I’ve never been ‘most people.’”

There was something about the way he looked at me that made my pulse feel… louder.

“You fight?” he asked.

“Do you always interrogate strangers?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes.

“Only the ones who make me curious,” he said, his attention unwavering as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

The conversation was casual, but there was nothing casual about him. There was tension between us. He looked so tempting.

My phone vibrated, and I was glad. My face lit up at the thought that I could finally excuse myself, but as I read the screen, disappointment settled in. It was just a random notification.

“Looks like you’re waiting for someone,” he said.

“You notice too much,” I replied.

I needed to leave him, so I decided to excuse myself.

“Well… thanks for keeping me company,” I said as I turned to leave, but I stopped and looked back at him. His gaze was still piercing me intensely.

My eyes dropped to his lips. They were full… soft-looking.

Damn.

I wanted them on mine.

A faint pulse stirred low in my body.

Before I could think it through, I stretched up to his height as he leaned down slightly. Our lips met for the briefest moment before I pulled back suddenly.

I looked at him as I bit my lip, trying to control myself. He stepped closer and stopped with his lips only a few centimeters from mine, one hand settling lightly around my neck as he looked into my eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

I looked into those impossibly dark eyes.

Every sensible thought in my head told me to walk away.

Instead, I heard myself whisper,

“Take me somewhere private.”