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I try to breath in, but the pain is bad. Hell, he might have pierced my lung with that kick. I suck in what air I can, and I spin my legs around, taking him down before jumping up. The pain in my side causes white spots in my vision. But I take my chance while he’s down, slamming my fist into his face, over and over. The blood. There’s so much that I’m slipping in it.
“Stop, enough,” I hear someone say, but I’m not thinking straight. I need to win, I need this. I need it.
“Roman.”
My head snaps up at the sound of my name. Arthur is there. Fuck. He doesn’t get in the ring unless he needs to step in.
I look down at Holtz. He’s groaning, which is a good sign, but his face is unrecognizable.
Fuck, this is why I hate this shit. I hate who I’ve become. How could Mila ever want someone like me? If she saw this, she would be disgusted instead of getting butterflies. She wouldn’t look at me the same. No more braids and lunches together. This is why she needs to stay far away from me.
I’m broken, and she can’t fix me. No matter how hard she tries.
Arthur says he’ll keep my Harley here overnight, secure. And one of the new guys, Brady, is gonna give me a lift back home.
I’m not sure if I’ve broken my fingers or if it’s my knuckles. My hand doesn’t seem to grip too well, and it’s swollen as fuck from smashing Holtz’s face in. It’s lucky we have a bye week this Friday. The Rebels could win without me—Hunter is unbelievable right now—but I wouldn’t have gone this far if I had a game on Friday. I wouldn’t do that to the team and the guys.
I make my way through the crowd, who have long forgotten about me and are cheering on the next fighters of the night. There’re hundreds of bodies packed in here, and I just want to leave, my two grand in my pocket.
“Hey, Valentine, been meaning to catch up with you.”
I look over and find three thugs. “Your daddy tell you we were coming tonight?”
These aren’t just any regular smack dealers; these guys are from the Amato family. Fuck’s sake, Dad. What have you got me into? Since when does the mafia sell heroin to junkies like my dad? Or spend time down in The Shed?
“Yeah, he said if we want to collect his debt, we need to find you,” the older one says.
“How much does he owe?” I stand straighter. I’m taller then all these fuckers. But I can see the guns holstered, so no matter our sizes, they are gonna win any fight with a bullet.
“Five. But we have a better deal.”
Fuck’s sake, I don’t wanna give them five hundred. I’m dripping blood from my nose and hands. I just want to go home and sleep this shit off. But I don’t want their better deal. There’s no such thing as a better deal with these guys.
“Get it from him.” I spit blood down at his feet.
“Nah, he said we get it from you. So, we get it from you. Or we break your legs.”
The other snickers. “Bit hard chasing after a football with broken legs. End your football career.”
They know who I am. They’ve done their research. This is why I can’t have Mila. This right here is the reason I can’t open up and let her in. I can’t let anyone find a weakness. And Mila…she’s my weakness. I would do anything for her. I would give my life for her. I need to make sure I stay away from her so these assholes don’t see her and use her against me.
I hold five hundred dollar bills out to them, and the older one just stares at it. “Five grand.”
My heart drops. Five grand? How the fuck did he rack up that much debt?
“Don’t worry. We’ve seen you fight. We have a deal we wanna work out with you.”
I don’t like the sound of that. I’ll get them the five grand. I’ll fight more. It will take time, but I will get it for them. The three of them follow me out of the warehouse, and I tell Brady to wait for me near the entrance. They got a deal for me, and I don’t think they’re gonna let me leave until I hear it.
“You fight against Holtz again on Friday. But you lose. Make it look good. We know you’re unmatched against him, won all six fights. We bet hard for Holtz to win. We take our winnings, and you get to pay off dear old daddy’s debt.”
“I’ll get you the five grand, just give me a few weeks.”
“We won’t accept your cash. It’s a done deal. See you Friday at midnight.”
Fuck, fuck. Why can’t just one thing go in my favor?
