Cheshire Cat
I’m taking you out tonight. Bring your dancing boots!
I slide my phone back into my pocket, eager to ask Grayson what’s next. The sun hasn’t set, so I’m sure there’s still plenty to do.
Grayson stands right behind me, already staring at me. Our chests brush when I spin to face him, and his eyes flare just the slightest.Interesting.
“You did good today,” he says, his tone breathless. “You’re off the hook for the night.”
His eyes linger on mine, bouncing between them. I know exactly what he’s studying. I should cower from the intensity with which he studies my mismatched eyes. Lord knows I’ve always been self-conscious over them. “Honey indeed,” he fans against my lips, just a whisper.
Internally, I know I'm different in a lot of ways, but my eyes are the one thing I can’t mask. The way he studies me, I don’t feel self-conscious in the slightest. My lungs heave, our chests brushing.
The contact has him flinching away, the bubble burst. His fists clench at his sides. He shakes his head, retreating into the unbothered mask he loves to wear around me now. I hate it.
I open my mouth to protest his dismissal, but he cuts me off. “You did enough for your first day. Trust me, you’re going to be feeling it by morning. Make sure you drink lots of water and take some pain meds. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
All I manage is a softokay,nodding my head along. I make my way out of the barn but linger at the door. I hesitate before asking the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue. “Will I see you tomorrow?” The words sound pathetically desperate.
He nibbles his lip. “I’m not sure. I have a couple errands to run tomorrow, so I might be scarce.”
“Oh.” The word comes out hollow. I plaster on a smile and wave goodbye. “Well, see you tomorrow…maybe.” I dip out the door and back to my cabin to get ready for a night out with Ches, hopefully to drown out whatever just happened. I’m not sure there’s enough booze in the world to make me forget the way Grayson makes me feel, though.
Research notes: cowboys are more hot and cold than Icy Hot.
grayson
. . .
TEN
I slumponto the locker room bench, my muscles protesting painfully. I worked for hours after Maisie left—not that I would let her know that. I worked as long as possible to keep my mind occupied until it was time to head to the Underground. I’m still bruised and battered from last night, though that didn’t stop them from summoning me tonight. If they call, I come.
I finish taping up my busted knuckles when one of their runner boys comes to collect me. I don’t bother to learn their faces or names. It’s always someone new each time. We are expendable, and they want us to know it.
I follow the boy, no more than fourteen, up the rotting stairs. The rowdy crowd's cheers start to bleed into the quiet surrounding us. They scream so loud, it’s impossible to decipher anything.
You wouldn't catch me dead at one of these events if I wasn’t forced to attend. Or better yet, be tonight's entertainment. I’m their puppet. As long as I do as they say, my family stays safe.
It’s only when I approach the roped off fighting ring that I understand what they’re chanting. “Mustang! Mustang! Mustang!” They are yelling forme. I’ve become quite thecommodity here. The undefeated wild cowboy from Texas.Mustang.
I’m not here to play nice. I know what’s on the line. I show up, get the job done by any means necessary, and go back home to my family. I don’t care if I have to bend my morals if it means my family remains unscathed. I’d let them tear my sanity to ashes as long as Nova and Laine remain holy in all of this.
When Matteo approached me with an offer I couldn't resist all those months ago, I decided I would rather sell my soul to the devil than bury my baby sister. Did I know what I was fully signing up for at the time? That I was selling my body to the mafia? Absolutely not. But I would do it all over again to see the light back in Laine’s eyes.
I fight to line their pockets with more illegal blood money, toentertainthem. I win my fights, and they pay me out…or they did. They covered all of Laine’s medical bills for me upfront and told me I could ‘work them off’. Apparently, that meant being their little bitch in their illegal fight club. I didn’t think it would last this long. 56 fights later, and they’ve only seemed to dig their claws in deeper. I’ve won my debt back, but I keep winning for them, even if it means bartering off a piece of my soul each time.
I told Laine an anonymous donor heard about her story and donated the money to cover her case. I didn’t want her worrying more than she already was. She cried all night with joy. I sat by her side, holding her hand until exhaustion summoned her. The next morning, I used the money to pay for the surgery she needed, and now, she’s cancer-free.
I let the chants fuel me as I slip between the ropes and into the ring. It’s weathered and bloodstained from the previous fight. There’s probably still blood lingering from last night's fight when I broke a man's jaw. I can still see his lifeless eyes holding mine when he fell to the floor and never got back up.
Win 56.Mustang, the undefeated cowboythey chanted as I was internally crumbling at the seams.
The boy offers me a bottle of water that I take happily,squirting some in my mouth. I’m in just a pair of black shorts and tennis shoes. Gloves aren’t allowed, so I tape my knuckles for some padding.
I look over to the timer on the wall, the red LED lights counting down from one minute and thirty seconds to go. I wonder what Maisie’s up to as I look over the little bleacher stands caging us in like experimental rats. Thefansare all dressed in fancy suits and dresses, rich as all hell, here to bet money on us. I’m sure they are all loosely related to the mafia. I was shocked to find out the mafia had infiltrated rural Montana. I guess it's the last place the feds would look, so it makes the perfect hiding place.
I slide my gaze through the growing crowd. They snag on a familiar, sinister pair. Matteo holds my gaze. One simple nod of his head, and it’s warning enough.
