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CHAPTER 1
BELLA
Tonight is the last night in Chicago.
This time tomorrow we will be halfway across the country and in two days time Dad promised palm trees, sand and all the sea air I can breathe in.
I hold my father’s promise close to my heart and let it carry me deeper into an underground basement.
Blood. Sweat. Barely enough light to see three feet in front of me.
I mark off all the cons about this place. I could keep going, but it takes too much energy to care about a place I won’t be long.
The biggest one though is the sight of a human-made ring and the men fighting in the center. I know what it means. I’ll be bandaging my father up before our bus ride out of the city.
Goosebumps flush across my bare shoulders and arms. The smell of sweat and blood burns my nostrils.
Every step I take deeper into the basement, moves me farther into my dad’s corrupt world. Until now, I’ve always been on the outside. He never let me see the darker part of his world as a mafia enforcer for Valerian De La Rosa. And now I understand why.
“You don’t belong here in that pretty white dress, those strappy sandals and your sweet aura of goodness. Not among these wolves, baby girl.”
Despite my father’s earlier words, he moves us through a throng of jostling men with grabby hands and few morals.
Whispers of “hey, baby,” and “virgin meat” hit my ears. I brush off the crude comments and stick to my dad’s side as he weaves us closer to the center.
“Dad, forget this. We don’t need it.” I urge him to stop but I don’t think he can hear me over the cheering and whistles.
Of all the ways I thought I would spend my twenty-first birthday, I never thought it would be at an illegal fight. Yet here I am complete with a human-formed ring and referees or whatever the hell the dude in black pulling a savage man off another is called.
I catch glimpses of the fighters beating the crap out of each other to the cheers and boos. Overhead lights throw the men in bright light while leaving the thunderous onlookers in deep shadows.
It’s nearly impossible to see past the wall of suits and the sporadic skin tight dresses stretched over fake boobs.
When I finally find a break in the crowd, I wish I hadn’t. Why the hell people like beating on each other is lost on me. A mountain of a man with acid green hair jutting in every direction pounds on the smaller one pinned to the floor. There’s a blur of motion. More knees and fists make contact. I blink and the smaller one is off the floor and the two opponents go back to dancing around each other looking for the others’ weaknesses.
I grimace. Fucking animals. Blood oozes from gashes over the men’s eyes and I have no doubt a few teeth are missing for the both of them.
I dodge around a woman held down by at least a million dollars worth of diamonds and sapphire in time to see Acid Green arch back and let out a blood curdling bellow. Spittle falls from his mouth and he looks feral. Black eyes shine with the hunger for blood when he comes out of his war call and I’m not the only one seeing this. Everyone watching takes an audible gasp before going back to chanting for blood.
My jaw falls slack. My feet drag and I come to a stop unable to move.
He’s not out for blood. He wants that man’s soul.
I turn to my dad who is behind me ushering me deeper into the chaos of the crowd. I have a sinking feeling my ad will be the next one in the ring with that monster. “What are we doing here, dad?”
Dad pulls me into him and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He tucks me under his arm and speaks over the roaring crowd. “I told you. One more fight, baby girl. And then I’m out. We can go to California like I promised you. De La Rosa said I only had to do one more.”
My head swirls with the promise of a calm life. I turn back to the fight. But is it worth the cost?
“You with me?” Dad shakes my shoulders. It is all I can do to nod, but in truth I don’t understand why he has to do one more fight when he said he was already out.
Pieces of chipped gravel and dirt grind underfoot as my father leads us through the jostling crowd. Wads of cash are shoved into the air. Arms and elbows fly in every direction.
Stabs of pain shoot through my left and fire off my nerve endings when I catch an elbow to the ribs.
Umph. I wheeze an ugly sound, a huff of air getting knocked out of me more than an actual sound.
My dad’s grip on my elbow is the only thing that keeps me from getting a concrete facial.
