Chapter 13: Crimson Arena

Aisha Fancy Lee

The silence in the car felt louder than the chaos in my head. Outside the window, the city raced by like it was trying to escape something—maybe itself. Ganon din ako ngayon. Takas sa konsensya.

The image of the child kept replaying in my mind. Yung mukha niya. Umiiyak. Takot. Naghahanap ng sagot. I left him with his father. I had no choice. They’re the enemy, but he’s just a kid. Hindi niya kasalanan ‘to. Pero kahit ganon, I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t bring him with me. Hindi ako hero.

“Snap out of it, Aisha. We’re almost there,” Apple said from the front seat.

I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

We pulled up to Gangster Society—a place that felt more like home than anywhere else. It’s where blood is spilled for pride, and respect is earned with scars. Dito walang rules, just survival.

The air was thick with smoke and tension. Crowds pushed against the barricades, yelling, betting, roaring for blood. Every corner was filled with faces—some familiar, others unfamiliar. But all of them carried the same fire in their eyes.

Beside me, my team BST—Blood, Sweat, and Tears—stood solid. My people. My fighters.

“Yo, dapat BTS na lang tayo,” I joked. “Blood, Tears, Sweat. Sayang, hindi tayo marunong sumayaw.”

“Pero magaling tayong sumayaw sa laban,” Apple smirked, fixing her gloves.

James chuckled. “Let’s just hope you still have moves left after tonight, Aisha.”

I turned to him, squinting. “Are you doubting me?”

“No. I’m just saying, Jake Dee is no joke.”

At the mention of his name, a wave of heat crawled up my spine. Jake Dee. The leader of Black Stone. The bastard who still had the nerve to show up after I humiliated his guy. Di nadala. Ngayon, siya na mismo ang babangga.

“Tss, ang yabang mo talaga, James,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Your face is yabang,” he shot back, and we both laughed a little—tension release before the storm.

“Okay, okay, kayo na naman nag-aasaran,” Shae said as she and Max walked in.

Max went straight to me and pulled me into a hug. “You got this, little sis. Kaya mo ‘to.”

I nodded. “Of course. I’m your blood. I was born for this.”

“Just don’t die, okay? I still need someone to steal my snacks.”

“Promise,” I grinned, but deep inside, my hands were starting to shake.

Then the call came.

“Gangster Princess, to the ring!”

My heart pounded.

This was it.

---

The arena’s lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit the center ring. The crowd erupted as I stepped onto the platform, my boots echoing against the steel floor. Their cheers blended into a blur, like static in my ears. I wasn’t here for them. I was here for blood.

And then I saw him.

Jake Dee.

All black. Sleeves rolled up. A smirk carved into his lips like he knew something I didn’t. His presence was heavy. Parang ang hirap huminga nung tumingin siya sa’kin.

“Nice to see you again, Aisha,” he called out, voice smooth as poison. “Ready to bleed?”

“You first,” I spat, clenching my fists.

The bell rang.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that presses on your chest like a loaded gun. My boots thudded against the concrete as we approached the massive gates of the Gangster Society Arena—an underground coliseum lit by flickering neon signs and surrounded by roaring engines, smoke, and bloodlust. Every gangster in the region was here tonight. Hindi ito basta laban. This was war.

Beside me, the BST walked in formation. Apple adjusted her gloves, her eyes sharp. James cracked his knuckles like a warning shot. Shae had her headphones on, like she needed music to drown out the chaos. And Max—he gave me a side hug, pulling me in with that signature protective grin.

"Hey little sis," he whispered, ruffling my hair. "Win this. Show them who you are."

I smirked, cocky and unbothered. “Of course. I’m your sister, remember?”

Apple leaned close, whispering, “Aisha, this isn’t just a fight. Black Stone came to kill.”

I didn’t flinch. “Good. I came to destroy.”

---

The arena was alive. It pulsed with energy and anger. Crowds surrounded the ring—gangs from all corners, their names etched in their jackets, their loyalty marked by blood. The crowd roared louder when they saw me, the so-called Gangster Princess.

“Tingnan mo sila,” James muttered. “They look like they want to eat us alive.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes locked on one man standing on the other side of the ring.

Jake Dee.

He stepped into the spotlight like he owned it—tattoos running down his arms, black chains clinking with every step. His jaw clenched, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... they were locked on me like a predator.

I met his gaze. No fear. No blinking. Just rage and purpose.

The bell rang.

Round one.

Jake moved fast—too fast. He launched a kick, but I bent low, sliding under it like water, twisting my body, and planting my foot straight into his ribs. The impact thudded. He staggered but recovered, grinning.

“So you’re not just a pretty face,” he taunted.

I didn’t respond. I struck again—a series of quick jabs to his sides, then an uppercut that narrowly missed his jaw. He ducked, countered with a brutal elbow to my shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, but I embraced it. Pain reminds you you're alive.

Blood began to drip from the corner of my mouth.

“Getting tired, princess?” he asked, swinging a chain he’d unclipped from his belt.

I dodged just in time, the chain slicing the air where my face had been. I grabbed his wrist mid-swing and twisted, flipping him over my shoulder with every ounce of strength in me. He landed with a loud thud, groaning.

But he was laughing.

He wiped the blood from his lip, pushed himself up, and charged again.

We clashed.

He rushed in, fast—like a shadow leaping from the dark. I ducked, twisted, landed a punch straight to his jaw. His head snapped to the side, but he didn’t stumble.

Instead, he grinned. “Good hit. My turn.”

A flash of silver.

Blade.

“F*ck—!” I gasped as the cold steel grazed my side. Blood bloomed instantly, soaking my shirt. I stumbled back, eyes wide.

“Didn’t think I’d bring a knife to a fist fight?” he whispered near my ear, voice laced with malice.

Rage exploded in my chest.

I charged.

Left hook—blocked. Right kick—caught. He slammed his elbow into my ribs and spun me around, slamming my back into the cage wall. My head spun. The crowd's roar became a distant hum.

But I wasn’t done.

I rammed my forehead into his nose—crack!

He screamed in pain, blood gushing down his face.

“Now we’re even,” I hissed, breathing hard.

Fists met flesh. Bones collided. Kicks, knees, headbutts—we were a blur of movement. I landed a punch to his nose; he hit me with a roundhouse kick that made my ears ring. We were fighting like we hated each other’s existence—because we did.

Then his blade came out.

A flicker of silver. I didn’t even have time to think.

He slashed toward my side—I twisted too late. Steel met skin. Slice. A sharp, burning pain bloomed on my rib.

I gasped. Blood gushed. My knees buckled.

But I didn’t fall.

I tightened my grip on his wrist, growled, “You want blood? I’ll drown you in it.”

I headbutted him hard enough to make him stumble. Then I drove my knee straight into his gut, followed by an elbow to the back of his neck. He dropped the blade.

I kicked it away.

We circled each other, panting, both bleeding, both furious.

He lunged. I dodged. I grabbed his collar, pulled him in, and punched him square in the jaw. He reeled back.

I ran toward the wall of the ring, stepped onto it, flipped, and kicked him with both feet—a flying kick that sent him crashing to the ground.

Cheers erupted. Some boos, too. I didn’t care.

He was on the ground.

I stood over him, blood dripping from my side, hair clinging to my face, fists clenched.

“You’re done,” I said.

But just as I turned to leave, thinking it was over—

He moved.

A final desperate punch.

It connected.

He lunged again, tackling me to the floor. His hands closed around my throat.

Air.

I needed air.

I scratched, punched, struggled—but he was stronger. My vision dimmed. Sounds warped.

“Come on, Aisha…” I heard James yell. “Get up!”

Something clicked in me. Survival mode.

I kneed him between the legs. He howled and rolled off. I coughed violently, trying to breathe again. My body screamed in pain, but I had no time to rest.

I grabbed the dropped knife.

Ran toward him.

But he moved just in time, grabbing my wrist and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor. Then he drove his fist straight into my stomach.

I collapsed to my knees.

Blood dripping.

My body shaking.

My eyes locked on James across the ring. Fear in his eyes. Helplessness.

“James…” I croaked, tasting blood in my mouth.

I tried to stand, tried to fight—but my legs betrayed me.

And then—

Everything went black.

But before I lost consciousness, I felt it—

Cold hands grabbing my body.

Dragging me.

The last thing I saw was his smirk… and the blood staining his teeth.