Chapter 3 - Unmasked
Arthur stared at me as if I had just sprouted wings and flown over the fence. His phone was sitting on the wooden picnic table two feet away from his hand, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
"What... what are you?" Arthur stammered, his voice lacking the booming authority he usually used to dictate family dinners. "What did you do to my son?"
"Your son shoved his brother into a burning smoker and put red-hot metal an inch from my face," I said coldly, maintaining the choke just tightly enough that Derek couldn't squirm. "And right now, your other son is bleeding and suffering from shock. Get the phone, Arthur. Or I let go of Derek's throat, and we can see how well he does in round three."
That broke the spell. Arthur snatched up his phone with shaking hands and began wildly punching in 911.
"Maya..." Leo whispered from the stone floor, his face pale. "Your... your shoulder..."
I glanced down. During the throw, the strap of my pastel sundress had torn slightly, slipping down my left shoulder. Exposed beneath the thin fabric was a dense, dark ink tattoo sprawling across my shoulder blade and upper back—a stylised, jagged crest featuring a stylized dragon wrapped around an anchor, flanked by two words in bold, solid lettering: WORLD CHAMPION.
Below it was a date from two years ago, alongside the official logo of the ultimate global mixed martial arts organization.
Evelyn, who had finally found her legs, hurried over to Derek, gasping as she saw her prized eldest son struggling for air in the grip of a woman half his size. "Let him go! You're killing him!"
"He's fine, Evelyn," I said smoothly. I released my grip, stepping back two full paces in one fluid motion.
Derek collapsed onto the grass on all fours, coughing violently, clutching his throat, and vomiting a mixture of beer and bile onto the lawn. His wife, Vanessa, ran to his side, but she kept her distance from me, looking at me as if I were a venomous snake that had crept out of the garden beds.
"Maya Sterling," Evelyn whispered, her eyes fixed on the tattoo on my back. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "I... I know that crest. My nephew watches those fights. You're... you're Maya 'The Silent' Sterling? The strawweight champion who retired two years ago?"
"I was," I said softly, adjusting my dress strap back over my shoulder to cover the ink. "And I retired because I wanted a quiet life. A life away from violence, away from arrogance, and away from people who think strength is measured by how hard they can push other people around."
I turned my back on them completely and knelt back beside Leo. I pulled a clean cloth napkin from the table, soaked it with cold bottled water from the cooler, and gently laid it over his burned arm.
Leo looked up at me, his eyes searching my face. There was no fear in his expression—only a profound, bewildered wonder. "You never told me..."
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"I wanted to leave that person in the past, Leo," I murmured, holding his good hand tightly in mine. "I wanted to be the girl who grows flowers with you. But nobody touches you. Nobody."
A distant siren began to wail, its pitch rising as it sped toward the cul-de-sac.
