Nat stood in one of the fighters" enclosures, looking through the one-way glass as she slowly wrapped her hands. Her gaze didn’t leave the octagonal construction in the center of the hall. A decommissioned factory, it had been repurposed for the fights. They were totally illegal, but since half the police force was either out there in the baying crowd or paid to look the other way, legality meant nothing here.
The hall had begun to fill rapidly as the headline fight—her fight—got closer. She ignored the crowds. Some fighters played up to them, but she never did. They weren’t her goal and never had been. She’d never wanted the notoriety of being the "Cage Queen," her face plastered over walls and screens. For her, it was all about the money. It had only ever been about the money. With that
