A nervous chuckle cut through the silence, but it instantly faded when Max’s head snapped toward the sound. Anna’s eyes were fixed on the floor. Her hands were trembling, but if anyone had looked closer, really looked, they would have noticed something strange.
The tremor followed a specific rhythm. «Seven hundred eighty-nine. Did you hear me?» «Strange.»
Max’s voice dropped lower, becoming more dangerous. «I said, get on your knees and bark like the dog you are.» The circle of students closed in tighter, phones raised like weapons.
Anna Harper was in the center. Her small figure seemed even smaller against Max Thompson’s imposing presence. Six-foot-three, 220 pounds of muscle and malice.
The fluorescent lights of Chicago High School’s gym cast harsh shadows on his face as he leaned close enough for her to smell the protein shake on his breath. The crowd loved it. They always loved it when Max found a new victim.
The invisible girl who sat in the back of every class, ate lunch alone, walked the halls like a ghost. She was perfect prey. But what they didn’t know was that Anna Harper wasn’t counting out loud to calm herself.
She was counting backward to zero. Three weeks ago, Anna had made a mistake. She was exhausted.
Workouts at five-thirty a.m. before school. Fights at eleven-thirty p.m. Eastern time. After school, she was worn out.
So when Sean accidentally dropped her books in the hallway, she reacted. It was just a slight movement, a small shift of weight that completely threw off the subsequent shove. He stumbled past her in confusion.
No one else noticed, except Max. Max Thompson ruled Chicago High School like a king over peasants. Captain of the football team, nephew of the mayor, six years of wrestling training, and a father who taught him that power was the only currency that mattered.
He built his reputation on breaking those who thought they could stand up for themselves, and now he’d found his new project. «I’ll count to three,» Max announced, playing to the crowd. «One.»
Anna’s fingers twitched almost imperceptibly. In another life, her real life, those fingers had taken down Alex Romano. The same hands that seemed so small and weak had racked up 47 straight wins in places where losing meant an ambulance, not embarrassment.
«Two.» She thought of her sixteen-year-old brother, fighting a different battle on a hospital bed. Leukemia didn’t care about underground championships or school hierarchies.
It only cared about money. Two thousand dollars for experimental treatment. The insurance company called it non-medically necessary.
Anna called it her only chance. «Three.» The crowd tensed.
This was the moment the invisible girl would break, like all before her. She’d cry, beg, do whatever Max wanted, because that’s how the world worked. The strong devoured the weak.
Anna dropped to her knees. The gym erupted. Phones flashed.
Someone yelled «Bully star.» Others laughed so hard they could barely hold their phones steady. Max stood over her like a gladiator, claiming his victory.
Arms spread wide, basking in the adoration of his followers. «That’s right,» he said loud enough for everyone to record. «Know your place.»
Now bark for daddy. Anna’s lips moved. There was no sound, but her mouth formed numbers.
«Four hundred fifty-six.» The laughter grew. Everyone thought she was trying to speak but couldn’t.
Thought fear had stolen her voice. Thought a lot of things. «Seven hundred eighty-nine.»
Max was starting to lose patience. The script called for total humiliation, and quiet submission wasn’t enough. He needed her to bark.
He needed her to break. He needed the video to go viral by lunch, with a title like «Football Star Turns Weird Girl Into His Pet.» So he did what he always did when someone didn’t follow his script fast enough.
He drew his leg back to kick. Yes, the switch happened in that split second between heartbeats. One moment Anna Harper was a trembling girl on her knees…
The next—something entirely different. Her breathing shifted from panicked to controlled. Her shoulders relaxed.
In her eyes, when she finally looked up, there was nothing—no fear, no anger, just the cold calculation of someone who’d spent years studying exactly how much force it took to crack a rib cage. «Wait,» someone in the crowd whispered. «Look at her face.»
But Max was already swinging the kick. His foot flew toward her ribs with force that could knock the wind out of anyone dumb enough to stay put. Anna didn’t stay put.
She moved like water, finding the path of least resistance. The kick meant for her ribs hit nothing but air. Max, expecting contact, lost his balance.
His own momentum pulled him forward as Anna rolled back, rising into a stance more animal than human. The laughter died. Someone dropped a phone.
«Lucky,» Max growled, trying to regain control. But something in his voice had changed, a barely audible crack in his confidence. He’d been in enough fights to recognize when someone moved with training versus panic.
This wasn’t panic. «Get up,» he ordered. «Stop playing.»
Anna rose slowly, deliberately, with no wasted motion—the kind of economy instantly recognizable in certain underground circles but alien in a school gym. «I already apologized for your friend,» she said calmly. Her voice carried despite its softness.
«I asked to be left alone and told you that you need to learn respect.» Max stepped forward, trying to use his size to intimidate her. «Now back on your knees.
Or what?» Anna tilted her head slightly. «You’re going to hit me. You’re going to humiliate me.
You’re going to make my life hell. Pause. But you’re already doing that.»
The crowd smelled blood. This was new. No one talked to Max Thompson like that.
No one stood their ground when he went into predator mode. «Guys!» Max called, not taking his eyes off Anna. «Looks like we need to teach her a harder lesson.»
Three football players pushed through the crowd. Zach Dudley, the one who started it all with the shove, Derek Black, Max’s enforcer, and Tyler Roden, who enjoyed inflicting pain almost as much as Max himself. Four against one.
Two hundred-pound athletes against a girl who might weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet. «Still wanna play brave?» Max asked. Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
She didn’t need to look. That alert meant Victor, meant fight night, meant another chance to earn money that could save her brother’s life. But she couldn’t leave.
Not with these four blocking every exit. Not with the crowd filming everything. Not with Max’s reputation demanding he keep going until someone got seriously hurt.
«I don’t want to fight,» she said sincerely. Fighting here meant exposure. Exposure meant questions.
And questions meant the end of everything she’d built in the shadows. «Too bad,» Max nodded to his guys. «Because you’re about to learn what happens to people who don’t respect me.»
They moved into formation, confident, trained. They’d done this before—corral the target, cut off escapes, take turns landing blows until it broke. It was a system that had worked on dozens of kids over the years.
But those kids hadn’t spent the last five years turning their bodies into weapons out of sheer necessity. Zach went first, trying a simple grab. His hand never touched Anna.
She barely shifted her weight, and suddenly Zach’s own momentum made him stumble past her. To untrained eyes, it looked like a fluke, but to those who knew fighting, it was textbook redirection, using the opponent’s force against him. «Stop dancing,» Max snarled.
«Derek, Tyler, grab her!» They came from both sides, trying to pin her between them. Anna waited until the last second, then dropped low. Derek and Tyler crashed into each other with a force that made the crowd wince.
She rolled back again, rising at the edge of the circle. «How’s she doing that?» someone whispered. «Maybe she’s a gymnast?» «That’s not gymnastics, dude.»
Max’s face turned bright red. It was supposed to be simple—intimidate the weird girl, make her submit, film it, maintain the hierarchy. Instead, his three best guys were made fools of by someone everyone thought couldn’t even throw a punch.
He charged himself, leading with a wild swing that had knocked out three guys in the last year. Time slowed for Anna. She saw the punch coming like it was moving through molasses.
Saw the tell in his shoulder. Saw the bad stance that left him wide open. Saw a dozen ways to counter that would leave him unconscious before he hit the floor.
She also saw the phones, the witnesses, the inevitable questions if she showed what she was really capable of. So she made the decision that would haunt her for the next ten minutes. She let the punch glance off her shoulder.
It spun her around. Dropped her to her knees. The crowd held its breath, then exploded in cheers.
This was what they’d waited for. This was the natural order restored. Max towered over her, breathing heavy but victorious.
«See?» he proclaimed to his audience. It was just luck. But luck runs out.
Anna touched her shoulder, assessing that he’d pulled the punch at the last second. She realized even Max had limits. He wanted submission, not a lawsuit.
«Last chance,» he said quietly, just for her. «Get on all fours and bark, or the next one won’t be held back.» Her phone buzzed again…
Victor hated waiting. Every minute wasted here was a minute less to prep for the fight that night, the fight that could change everything if she won. But looking at Max, at the cruel satisfaction in his eyes, at the bloodthirsty crowd, Anna realized something.
She was tired of hiding. Tired of pretending to be weak. Tired of letting people like Max Thompson think they owned the world.
«No,» she said simply. That single word hit the gym like thunder. No one said no to Max Thompson.
No one refused when he’d already cornered and broken them. «What did you say?» «I said no.» «I’m done with your games.
I’m done being your entertainment. I’m done pretending that power is everything here. You think you have a choice?» Max laughed, but it sounded forced.
«You think you can just walk away?» «Yes.» Anna stood fully, and something in her posture made the nearest students instinctively step back, because «here’s what’s going to happen. I’m walking out of this gym.
You’re going to let me pass. And tomorrow, everyone pretends nothing happened. Pause.
Or… I’ll stop holding back.» The words hung in the air like a challenge. Max stared at her.
For the first time, really. He saw her on her toes. Saw the relaxed but ready position in her arms.
Saw eyes that had seen violence far beyond schoolyard posturing. «You’re bluffing, Anna.» She smiled.
But it wasn’t a happy smile, not a fearful one, but the kind 47 opponents had seen right before waking up in the ER. There’s only one way to find out. Max felt the crowd’s energy shifting.
They’d come for a show and got one, but not the one he’d planned. The invisible girl wasn’t breaking, wasn’t begging. She stood like she actually believed she could beat him.
His reputation wouldn’t survive this, even if he won, which he was still sure he would. The mere fact that she thought she could challenge him was cracking the foundation of fear he’d built for years. «Fine,» he said, cracking his knuckles.
«You wanna play, fighter girl? Let’s play. But when it’s over, you won’t just bark, you’ll beg.» He lunged at her with the technique that had won him three state wrestling championships.
Low center of gravity, arms wide to prevent escape, the same takedown that ended every real fight he’d ever been in. Anna saw him coming with the cold calculation of someone who’d faced men twice his size in places where the ref’s job was just to make sure no one died. She had two options.
Let him take her down and hope someone intervened before it got out of hand. Or go full exposure and deal with the fallout. Her brother’s face flashed in her mind, pale and thin but still smiling, still believing his big sister would find a way to save him.
Victor’s fights paid. Twenty dollars per win, eighty for a title defense. The two-thousand-dollar prize at tonight’s tournament could save their lives.
If she exposed herself here, it all vanished. But if she let Max Thompson slam her into the gym floor, something else would vanish—the last part of her that remembered how to stand tall. The decision made itself.
Max was less than two feet away when Anna moved. To the crowd, it looked like magic. One moment she was still, the next she was spinning past him like a matador with a bull.
Her hand brushed his shoulder as he went by. Just a touch, but applied at the perfect angle to amplify his momentum and send him crashing into the crowd. Students scattered.
Max hit the floor, rolled twice before stopping. When he looked up, his expression had shifted from rage to something close to astonishment. «Wrestling’s good,» Anna said casually, like they were discussing sports over lunch.
«It’s great for controlling opponents your size, but it has big gaps when fighting someone trained in multiple disciplines.» She saw the moment he got it. Saw the realization dawn in his eyes that she wasn’t the weird girl who’d gotten lucky a few times.
This was something else, something dangerous. «Who are you?» he asked, rising more cautiously. Her phone buzzed a third time.
Victor was losing patience. She needed to end this now. «Hey, that’s Ghost!» A voice came from somewhere in the crowd.
A sophomore guy, holding up his phone with a YouTube video. «Look! Same height, same build, same movement style. That’s Ghost from the underground fights.»
Everything froze. «Ghost!» The name spread through the crowd like wildfire. Everyone had heard the rumors.
The undefeated fighter in illegal arenas. 47 wins, most by knockout. No one knew the real identity because they always fought in a hood and mask.
But the videos were legendary—brutal, efficient, terrifying. «No way,» someone muttered. «Ghost is short and all muscle.
Angles, idiot. Look at the footwork, look how she moves.» More phones came out, loading more videos.
Side-by-side comparisons between Anna’s moves in the gym and shaky footage from abandoned warehouses where people paid cash to watch rule-free violence. Max went pale. «You’re Ghost.»
Anna didn’t deny it. No point. The proof was on over 50 screens…
The same signature footwork, the same economical motions, the same way of turning violence into a dance. «Holy shit,» Derek muttered, backing away. «She could kill us.»
«She could kill all of us,» Tyler added. Their earlier bravado evaporated like morning mist. The gym turned into a pressure cooker.
A hundred and fifty students stood frozen, processing the revelation. The quiet girl they’d ignored for three years was actually one of the most dangerous underground fighters in the state. Max’s jaw worked but made no sound.
His whole world, built on the certainty that he was the apex predator in this ecosystem, was crumbling. The script had flipped so hard he didn’t know his lines anymore. «This is impossible,» he finally choked out.
«Ghost fights grown men, pros, killers. And wins.» Someone added.
Anna’s phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t a text alert. Victor was calling. She declined without looking, but everyone heard the ringtone.
Rock music. Someone in the underground fighting circuit thought it was funny when they programmed her phone. «So what now?» Anna asked, genuinely curious.
«You wanted me to bark like a dog. Wanted to humiliate me, post it online, grind me to nothing.» She tilted her head, still feeling bold.
The challenge hung between them. Max had two choices—back down in front of everyone and shatter his reputation or fight someone just outed as an undefeated fighter with 47 pro wins. Pride won.
With guys like Max, pride always wins. «I don’t care what you do in some street fight club,» he growled, trying to reclaim his shattered confidence. «This is my house.
My rules. And you’re still just a weird girl who’ll get enough.» A voice came from the crowd, quiet, scared, but determined.
A freshman girl Anna recognized but had never spoken to stepped forward. Alina Martin, small, quiet, the one who tried to be invisible to survive high school. «Just stop,» Alina repeated, looking at Max with tears in her eyes.
«Don’t you see what you’re doing?» «What you’ve been doing all this time?» «Get out of here!» Max shouted. «This doesn’t concern you.»
«It concerns me,» the dam broke. «You made my brother drop out of school. He loved football, but you and your friends bullied him every day because he wasn’t good enough, because he was different, because you could.»
Other voices joined in. Students finding courage in numbers and in the presence of someone who’d just shown Max Thompson wasn’t invincible. «You sent Jacob Frost to the hospital.
You destroyed Becca’s art project because she wouldn’t go on a date with you. You’ve terrorized this school for four years.» Max’s head whipped around, trying to identify speakers, memorize faces for later revenge.
But there were too many. The spell was breaking. «Shut up.»
Max roared. «All of you, shut up. I’m in charge here.
Me. You don’t run anything.» Anna’s voice cut through his hysteria like a sharp knife. She stepped forward, and though he still towered over her, somehow she seemed bigger.
«You’re just a scared boy who hurts others because someone hurt you first, because your dad tells you power is everything, because you’re terrified that if you stop pushing people down, you’ll realize how small you really are.» Each word hit like a physical blow. Max’s face shifted from rage to humiliation to something that might have been pain.
«You don’t know anything about me,» he whispered. «I know everything about you,» Anna replied. «I’ve fought fifty versions of you.
Different faces, same pain. Same need to break anything beautiful because something beautiful in you got broken.» The gym went still.
Even those still filming lowered their phones, caught in something deeper than a viral video. «But here’s the difference between me and you,» Anna continued. «I learned to fight to protect people.
You learned to fight to hurt them. And that’s why you’ll always lose to people like me. Not because I’m stronger, faster, or better trained, but because I’m not afraid of you. And they’re not afraid of you anymore either.»
She gestured to the crowd. Max looked around and saw it was true. The fear was gone.
Replaced by anger, resolve, a collective realization that the emperor had no clothes. His phone rang. The sound shattered the moment like a brick through glass.
He grabbed it in desperation, seeking any distraction. «What?» he barked into it, then went pale. «What do you mean ‘expelled’? You can’t.
Dad? Dad?» But the line was already dead. Principal Coleman’s voice came over the intercom: «Max Thompson, Derek Black, Zach Dudley, and Tyler Roden. Report to the principal’s office immediately.
Security will escort you.» Four guards entered the gym. Real guards—not the usual rent-a-cops.
Anna noticed the police badges. Real cops. «What’s going on?» Tyler groaned.
One officer held a tablet with clear school surveillance footage, ironically installed by Max’s mayor uncle to prevent vandalism. «Assault, threats, conspiracy,» the officer listed. «And that’s just today.
