Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother novel Chapter 159

159 Chapter 159

Seraphina’s POV 1

The water in my tiny shower ran lukewarm at best, but I stood under it anyway, letting it wash away the smell of that alley. The fear. The

violence. The blood that wasn’t mine.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I scrubbed at my skin with the cheap soap I’d bought at the dollar store. Every time I closed my eyes,

I saw his face. Felt his hands on me.

I turned off the water and wrapped myself in the threadbare towel that had come with the furnished apartment. In the mirror above the sink, my reflection looked like a stranger. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Hair dripping wet and hanging in tangled strands around my face.

I looked like exactly what I was: a woman who’d nearly been assaulted in an alley and was now standing alone in a dump of an apartment, trying to pretend everything was fine.

The adrenaline was finally wearing off, leaving behind exhaustion so complete I could barely stand. My legs felt like jelly as I made my way to the bedroom, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had seen better days.

I collapsed onto the mattress, and that’s when I felt it. The sharp edge of something in my pocket. 1

The business card.

I pulled it out, staring at the simple black text. *Rico Santos. Talent Acquisition.*

Underground fighting. Good money. Very good money.

The rational part of my brain immediately rejected the idea. I wasn’t a fighter. What happened in the alley had been desperation and

basic training from years ago, not skill. I’d gotten lucky. That man had been drunk and sloppy and underestimated me.

But would I be that lucky next time?

Because there would be a next time. Women like me-alone, vulnerable, obviously struggling-we were targets. Tonight had proven that.

I sat on the edge of the bed, turning the card over in my hands. The back was blank except for a phone number.

*Female fighters are especially popular.*

The words made my skin crawl, but they also made something else stir in my chest.

I walked to the kitchenette and opened the cabinet where I kept my meager food supplies. Half a loaf of bread. Three packets of instant

noodles. A nearly empty jar of peanut butter. And that was it. That was everything.

The grocery bag from tonight was still sitting by the front door where I’d dropped it. The bread was completely squished, the peanut

butter jar cracked. Even if the food had survived, it would have lasted maybe three days.

I pulled out my phone and checked my bank account. $247.83. After rent was due next week, I’d have less than fifty dollars to my name.

The Morrison’s money had seemed like so much when I’d first found it. A cushion. A safety net. But it was almost gone, burned through

in just two weeks of city living. And I still didn’t have a job.

18.27

1/2

I looked down at Rico’s card again.

*You could make more in one night than most people make in a month.*

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