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Seth turned his face to me and sighed. “There’s no other choice. You just have to decide which side you’d rather be on.” His attention averted to something behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Nikolai headed toward us with a murderous glint in his eyes, focused solely on Seth. Behind Nikolai were four hulking men, all carrying guns in their holsters.
“Be ready, brother,” Nikolai warned, sitting next to Seth.
Seth snorted out a laugh. “Always am.”
Nikolai glared at Seth and then focused on me. “You’re making a big mistake, Emma.”
A snide remark was on the tip of my tongue, but Seth gripped my hand. “Don’t respond to that. It’s what he wants.”
Nikolai’s phone rang, and he put it on speakerphone. “Yeah?” he answered.
“Philip’s ready. I’m bringing him out,” the man replied. “Wheeler’s got Reynolds.”
Nikolai chuckled. “Excellent.” He slid his phone away and laughed when he turned to his guys. “It’s showtime, boys.”
My heart stopped and I held my breath. It was almost time. Carter could emerge from only two entrances: the stairs where I came down or a side hallway at the back of the room. I focused on both. Two men appeared from the hallway a few seconds later, one in a suit and the other in ripped jeans with his dark hair slicked back. His upper body glistened with sweat, and on his arm was a tattoo that started at his wrist and went all the way up to his shoulder.
“Antonio,” Nikolai called. A man with long brown hair in a low ponytail closer to the ring turned around and lifted his brows. “Make sure Dane is ready with his machine. Philip’s tattoo is gonna get a little bigger tonight.” Antonio grinned wolfishly and nodded.
Without acknowledging Nikolai, I kept my head straight and whispered to Seth. “What does that mean?”
Seth’s arm brushed against mine, his voice by my ear. “Every time Philip kills someone, he adds to his tattoo.”
Taking a deep breath, I blew it out slowly. Carter was going to win; he had to. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Philip climbed into the ring and kept his attention on the hallway while he marched back and forth. My head grew dizzy from holding my breath for so long.
When Carter appeared, my heart stopped. Dressed in a pair of black athletic shorts and black hand wraps, he stormed toward the ring with his head held high and expression blank. The anger poured off him in waves, and I could feel the intensity fuel the crowd, their lust for the fight potent in the air. My skin broke out in gooseflesh, and beads of sweat formed above my brow. Yet, Carter’s focus was on Philip and Philip alone.
Carter hopped in the ring, and Wheeler walked over to Philip to say something in his ear. Philip bounced on his feet, and I saw movement in his back pockets. There was something in one of them, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
“Are they allowed to use weapons?” I asked, whispering the words over to Seth.
He nodded. “No rules, Emma. They can do whatever they want as long as one kills the other.”
Stomach falling, I could feel the bile rise up the back of my throat. Carter would never use a weapon which put him at a disadvantage. He was an honorable fighter, something these people weren’t. Wheeler moved to the center of the ring, and all the spectators took their seats. There had to be at least two hundred of them.
“Who are all these people?” I inquired. Not that I gave a damn, but I needed to think of something else during these last few minutes of torment as we waited for the fight to start.
Seth pointed at the crowd. “Since this fight deals with one of our own, only our loyal family and friends were invited. For example, if Carter were fighting a Rossi or Kazakov, then their people would be here.”
His mouth moved as he spoke, but I could barely hear anything over the erratic heartbeat in my ear. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too thick. It was as if the whole room closed in all around me.
Wheeler jumped out of the ring, and everything after that moved in slow motion. The bell echoed through the room, and the fight began. Carter tilted his head from side to side to crack his neck like he always did before his UFC matches. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t a sanctioned fight. This was real life with real consequences if he made a mistake.
Philip paced around the ring and Carter mirrored him, both never taking their eyes off the other. Philip swung and missed, giving Carter an advantage. He punched Philip in the side and Philip roared in pain, his face scrunched in fury. Like a wild beast, he tackled Carter to the mat, and all I could see were flying fists as they rolled around the ring. Carter got the upper hand and straddled Philip, pummeling his face with both fists. Philip elbowed Carter in the side where he had a broken rib just a week ago. For a split second, Carter doubled over, giving Philip the out he needed. He reared back and elbowed Carter in the face, knocking him away.
Philip jumped to his feet while Carter righted himself, blood dripping down the side of his face from a gash above his eye. Then, reaching into his back pocket, Philip pulled out a set of brass knuckles and slid them down his fingers.
When the dim light shone against them, I could tell they weren’t normal. “What the hell is on his hand?”
Seth could see the worry in my eyes and sighed, his voice hesitant as if he didn’t want to tell me. “Razor blades,” he said.
Folding my arms across my stomach, I tried to breathe, but nothing helped. I wanted to look away but couldn’t. Carter’s expression didn’t change when he noticed the tiny blades on Philip’s fist. Instead, he looked even more determined to win. Focused.
Philip ran at Carter and swiped the blades across his chest, but Carter jumped back, only getting a scratch. I could see the thin red line of his blood from where I sat. Philip went on the attack again, and Carter made him work for it by dodging him at every turn, which only angered Philip more. I knew Carter’s game. He wanted to tire Philip out, but Philip had a wildness that wasn’t being quelled. It was as if the humanity had left him and all that was inside was the burning need to kill. Philip shouted and reared back his arm, but Carter blocked the punch, the blades digging into the side of his forearm. Blood poured out of the wounds, but he kept going. He grabbed Philip around the waist and lifted him in the air before slamming him down hard. It all happened so fast that my brain needed time to catch up.
Carter whipped around and locked Philip’s head between his thighs, grabbing hold of Philip’s brass-knuckled hand before he could swipe the blades across his legs. Carter gripped Philip’s arm and pried his hand open while Philip tried to claw at Carter’s thighs, his face red and blue from the lack of oxygen.
Carter seized the brass knuckles, and the blades dug into his fingers as he ripped it away from Philip’s hand, throwing the weapon out of the ring.
