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That’s until someone dies, and one half of the crowd goes hunting for the night. All is fair after a fight in the Death Cage. The night is bloody. Enemies die, vendettas are settled. Then the winning crew takes over officially the next day.
My phone has been going off all day. Kings’ members, unknown numbers. The only one I picked up was when my girls called. Everyone else, I was too anxious to talk to.
I walk through the crowd, heat hitting me in the face as I ignore everyone who tries to stop me.
No time. The fate of my fucking crew is on the line. I can’t talk.
I’m texting Ivan as I stand at the front, right by the cage. I’ve got a front-row spot for the show, ready to face death, like I have many times before. I wish him good luck, asking him if he knows who he’s fighting against, but he has no idea.
I’m typing quickly on my phone as it rings again, and answer by accident.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself.
I might as well fucking listen now.
“Hello?”
“Miss King?”
“Yeah?”
“Miss King, hi. This is Pamela Phillis, I was the prosecutor in the case of The State of Maryland vs. White. I’ve been trying to call you for months. The case had been reopened after some new evidence was found.”
My heart drops to my stomach.
“You were a major witness to the trial, and I wanted to get you to testify again.”
Oh. Fuck. For a second, I thought she was going to tell me the guy got out. I take deep breaths, calming myself.
“Of course,” I tell her. The crowd becomes rowdy, people getting louder as the fight is about to start. “Look, I’ll testify again, if needed. Honestly, anything you need.”
I’ll lie in court a hundred times if it means he stays locked up.
“Well, actually, I was calling to tell you—”
Someone shouts next to me, and I miss everything she says. I snap at them to shut the fuck up and press my index finger against my ear as I turn away from the cage.
“Sorry, I’m in a busy place. Could you say that again?”
“The defendant,” she repeats. “I wanted to let you know he was released from prison five months ago. I’ve been trying to tell you by all means, but you’re very hard to reach. I called and sent letters too. I’ve been trying to get you to testify again since January. When you didn’t show up, I at least wanted to tell you he was released. I’m glad I finally got through to you.”
My heart doesn’t drop to my stomach this time. It completely stops.
My hand falls to my side, numb, my phone slipping and crashing on the floor.
Five months?
I don’t need to wonder anymore who was feeding information to Emma. Who gave her the brand-new car, who tipped her off about the bank robbery, who gave her fucking courage. I know exactly who helped her take back power over this town.
“Kayla,” someone calls from behind me in a way that practically sing-songs my name.
I don’t want to turn around. I want to run away. But the crowd is right there, and the presence behind me has a threatening edge.
My lower lip trembles as I shift on my feet, slowly moving until I face the cage again.
I’m Kayla, the ruthless King.
I rule the Kings. I rule the North Shore.
