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CALLIE
Kai!
I cover my mouth with my hand so as not to scream when Archer kicks him, sending him to the floor. My other hand grabs the chain fence so hard that my knuckles turn white.
There’s blood on the floor.
The sight of it cuts me open. My heart bleeds for Kai, but there is nothing I can do.
Archer laughs like a maniac—actually laughs!—when he sees Kai try to get up. He swings his leg to kick Kai in the gut, bringing him down again.
I hold my breath, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up, Kai!
The sight of Crone makes my insides turn. He doesn’t look around. As if we are sheep. He is a powerful man and uses his power in the worst way possible, for his personal sardonic entertainment. He lets his minions keep their distance, but he knows he has backup. If he were alone, Kai would’ve taken him out. Kai is the strongest person I know.
I wish I had a gun—or anything—to knock Archer out. The sheer sight of him makes me wanna puke.
Handsome.
Cold.
Evil.
He swings his leg again, but before it reaches Kai, Kai shoots his arm out, grabs the ankle, and in a moment, Archer is on the ground, and Kai lunges on top of him and throws punch after punch after punch.
I cheer. And though I don’t want this to turn vicious, it is, because Kai’s knuckles are bright red as he straddles Archer and punches.
But Archer kicks him again, and now they are both on the floor, panting and scrambling to get up.
The crowd boos and cheers. This turned from an exciting fight into a who-wears-out-who. No show-off. It’s a game of endurance.
They manage to get up, stumbling to the opposite sides of the octagon.
Archer sways like grass in the wind and wipes his eyes from blood, his torso bruised.
Kai’s tattoos hide the injuries, but he can barely stand straight. His gaze is angry and charged. It shifts from Archer to me behind the chained fence.
Just for a moment.
But when his eyes meet mine, I clench my jaw and nod. He needs to know I am here, I am with him, and we’ll take any chance to break free.
“I love you,” I mouth, my heart squeezing, though he won’t make out the words.
I always went with the flow before. But here, on the Westside, I need to be strong.
Archer and Kai are bloodied, bruised, and tired. The referee just stands there, and the crowd looks restless. They want blood and deadly punches. They want choking and broken bones.
My stomach is getting nauseated. I can’t watch Kai getting hurt anymore. And if Archer gets lucky, he will beat him to a pulp.
I need to do something.
There should be a way.
