Chapter 1

I'm the long-lost daughter of America's biggest boxing family—and I can't even twist open a water bottle.

Until a rival family came to challenge my father and brothers.

I yawned and stretched out my limbs.

"Ten-fight winning streak champ of the underground fight club, coming through."

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m the America's biggest boxing family's long-lost daughter.

Three months after they brought me home——

Twist a cap? I call a brother. Two flights of stairs? Forget it. Both my brothers own title belts. Me? I won't even touch a punching bag. Dad sighed and hired me a live-in housekeeper. I stretched out on the couch like a queen.

Before they found me, I fought underground for ten years. Ten. Years. Now I finally get to be a couch potato and win at life.

As for that masked ten-time champ from the overseas circuit? Yeah. Let her stay retired.

Until eight boxing gyms teamed up and raided our place. On livestream.

Dad got knocked off the ring. Both my brothers went down one after the other.

They stomped on our gym's plaque and pushed a shut-down contract at Dad.

"Nobody in the Callahan family can throw a punch?"

I came down the stairs. Jax immediately shoved me back.

"It's fine, go sleep. Dad can still spoil you rotten somewhere else."

But the man across the ring blocked me. He threw a pair of gloves at my feet.

"There's still one left. If you're scared, tell your dad to kneel and quit."

I looked at Dad's bleeding hand. I picked up the gloves.

"First, put all eight of your plaques on the table too."

"Since you love ganging up, let's skip the taking turns."

"All eight of you. At once. I don't want to keep Dad waiting for the ER."

…

Month three back at the Callahan house. Dad finally gave up teaching me to box.

Simple reason. I was too damn soft.

First day in the training room, he told me to run three laps around the gym. I made it half a lap and squatted down on the floor.

Jax—my older brother—twisted open a water bottle for me and covered for me.

"She didn't grow up training, Dad. Chill. Take it slow."

Mason, my other brother, kept complaining but ran the rest of my laps anyway.

"Look at her. A stiff breeze could knock her over."

Dad glared at both of them.

"One league champ, one national title holder, and you two spoil her like this?"

I sat on the padded bench hugging an iced coffee. Full agreement from me.

Back when I fought six matches a day, nobody ran half a lap for me. Now that I'm finally retired, why would I ask for pain?

Dad didn't quit. He tried to teach me basic self-defense.

The coach raised his hand. I flinched back on instinct.

Dad went quiet for a long time. Next day, he hired me a full-time housekeeper.

Her name is Miss Rita. She even cuts strawberries into tiny pieces and feeds them to me.

I'm real satisfied with my life.

The Callahans are big in American boxing. Dad won three championship belts back in his day. Now he owns the biggest gym in the city. Jax took the Pro League title two years ago. Mason just came back from training overseas. There are girls online calling him "husband."

As for me, everyone assumes my only job is eating.

Sometimes people online whine that the Callahans' long-lost daughter is a useless brat. Dad heard it once and yanked that outlet's media pass.

"My daughter's been missing over ten years. She's home to relax, not to perform for you people."

Made total sense to me.

The day before the anniversary event, some sponsor wanted me to shoot promo photos with my brothers. They ran the numbers loud. Long-lost daughter comes home to a boxing dynasty—instant clicks. Put me in the middle in fight gear, they'd bump the sponsorship thirty percent.

Dad pushed the contract right back at them.

"She doesn't want to box. Don't stuff her into a fighter's costume."

Mason chimed in.

"You think we need that thirty percent? She whines about standing still for ten minutes."

I was lying on the couch eating grapes. I nodded hard.

The brand manager kept glancing at me. He didn't push again. On his way out, he whispered to his assistant that the Callahans spoiled their daughter more than their champions.

Mason heard it. Laughed out loud.

"A champion loses, he trains again. Our sister was missing over ten years. We finally got her back. Damn right she's precious."

When I was little, I watched people slap a price on my head all the time.

How much per match. How much per punch. Can she still fight after taking that hit.

So the more the Callahans treated me like a useless princess, the safer I felt.

The day of the gym anniversary, all I wanted was a slice of cake.

Jax had an interview. Mason had an exhibition match. Dad was busy greeting the old fighters.

I'd just sliced off the biggest strawberry piece when a crash exploded from the front door.

The Callahan wooden plaque hit the floor.

Eight gyms' worth of guys marched in. The man in front was Hunter Cross.

Hunter used to be Dad's student. He quit years ago over "creative differences." Then he swept up seven surrounding gyms in a few years.

Hunter dragged his shoe across the busted plaque and smiled at Dad.

"Coach. Five years, huh? Same old place."

Dad's smile dropped.

"It's our anniversary. I'm not doing this today."

Hunter raised a hand. A dozen phones went up. The livestream count started climbing fast.

"I'm not here to reminisce. I'm here to raid your gym."

"All eight at once. Saves you from doing this one by one."

Mason threw his jacket at his assistant and stepped up.

But I was staring at the eight guys behind Hunter. I slowly put down my cake.

Two of them looked familiar.

Like people I'd made cry in The Pit.