Chapter 9: The Ring

Mason was back at it. Today, instead of wall sits, he insisted I spar in the training ring. He called over a guy three times my size, arms like tree trunks.

In Chicago, girls might take self-defense at summer camp, maybe a bit of archery or horseback riding if you were lucky. Out here, it seemed women were expected to throw punches with the men.

I hesitated, unsure. Mason misread my silence. "Don’t worry, Officer. Here, it’s just for show—nobody gets seriously hurt."

I didn’t bother answering, just nodded for him to start.

He grinned, taunting me: "Don’t chicken out at the last second."

I stood my ground, arms at my sides. Who would chicken out remained to be seen.

If I lost here, in front of all these men, I’d never hear the end of it back in Chicago.

Mason called for the match to begin, stepping aside. But his guy didn’t move. Instead, he saluted, nervous as hell. "Captain Mason, sir… I can’t."

Mason looked like he’d swallowed a bug. "What do you mean, you can’t? We’re all people here. Why can’t you fight?"

"But she’s the Princess…"

Mason’s frustration boiled over. He hadn’t expected his own man to refuse.

I watched from the sidelines, amused. Aside from Mason, everyone here treated me with respect, sometimes even reverence.

"I’ll do it." Mason snapped, taking the guy’s place in the ring. He clearly had a bone to pick—with me, with the city, with anyone who made life harder for his soldiers.

I raised a hand. "Wait."

Mason would definitely go all out, and I wasn’t about to get flattened. "I’m not ready today. Let’s do it tomorrow."

Mason’s eyes locked on mine, a silent dare. Tomorrow, I’d have to prove I belonged—or get knocked flat trying.