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Even him saying my name intensifies the urge to kill him and be done with it. There’s no fine line when it comes to me. I can either tolerate you, or I want you permanently out of my orbit. He falls into the latter.
Apart from my brothers and my sister, there isn’t a soul on earth I choose to be around.
“How do you do in a fight?”
Smashing his fist into his other hand, he grins menacingly, boasting, “I never lose.”
I cock my brow. “Is that so?”
As he nods, I imagine his head springing back from one of my punches over and over.
Chaos will have my arse if I cause more trouble just because I don’t like the looks of someone, so I call out for one of the other prospects.
“Havoc!”
Unlike Killa, he walks over without an air of arrogance around him. He waits for instructions, and I like that. He knows his place and accepts it.
“I want to see how you both fight. Serving us beers and being our puppets only shows us so much about who you are.”
Loyalty has to be proven. For me to believe they’ll back me in any situation, I need to see it for myself. I want to see how low and dirty they’ll go to survive. I certainly can’t trust anyone to have my back if they can’t throw a punch.
“You want us to fight each other?” Killa asks.
“That’s what I said. You need me to repeat myself?” I ask darkly.
Both shake their heads, standing there like useless rocks.
“Go on, then. Fight,” I bark.
Killa shrugs out of his cut and whips his T-shirt over his head. When he tosses them onto the nearest chair, Havoc follows his lead and does the same, rolling his neck as Killa bounces on his toes.
Lighting another cigarette, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Inhaling deeply on the poison stick, I watch them circle each other. I’d bet money Killa strikes first. From what I’ve seen of Havoc, he watches and assesses first, where Killa acts first. Unless you have the muscle and front to back you, acting first isn’t always the way to go.
Like I expected, Killa lunges forward and throws a right hook, catching Havoc on the jaw.
It doesn’t faze him, and he throws an uppercut, barely making contact. I’d be happy if Killa walks away with a broken nose, but the way Havoc’s trying to hold his own, it’s not likely.
Growing bored with their circling around, I grunt, “I asked you to fucking fight, not dance.”
At my words, punches are thrown, and it vexes me that Killa is faring better. His hits land with more force than Havoc’s, but he’s not a complete pussy. Killa’s nose is bleeding, and his right eye is already bruised and swelling.
Taking one last pull on my cigarette, I flick it at them, and it hits Killa in the back. He doesn’t feel it, but he amps up, swinging his leg low to swipe Havoc’s legs out from underneath him. The pussy lands on his side with a thud, and before he can get to his feet, Killa’s on him, driving his fists repeatedly into his face.
I’d be content to sit here and watch him punch Havoc to his death, but Chaos wouldn’t be happy with me, so I call out, “Enough!”
Killa falls to the side on his arse, panting, trying to catch his breath, while Havoc rolls on the ground, groaning.
I can’t believe Chaos gave the green light for them to prospect. Killa may be the victor of this shit show of a fight, but by no means was he anything special. As he throws shit down at Havoc, I shake my head. They’re prospecting to become brothers. The arsehole should offer his hand to help him up, or at least get him some ice for his face.
All he’s shown me is that he can put a prospect on his arse, and he’s still pissing me the fuck off. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, and the only reason I can put up with it is because I know I’m about to wipe it off his smug face.
Standing, I shrug out of my cut and hang it on the back of the chair. Whipping my hoodie over my head, I dump it on the chair and roll my neck, releasing the built-up tension. Watching me crack my knuckles, his triumph fades when he realises I’m preparing to fight.
“Let’s see how you do against me,” I say, stepping up to him.
I don’t dance with him. I stand there with my chin held high, my eyes drilling into his as he gulps, daring him to make the first move.
Images of all the ways I want to hurt this prick race through my mind, but I stand still, waiting for him to strike.
