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I felt like my heart had stopped. My whole body went cold. “What?” I asked.
My eyes swivelled to the cage, and I saw the victor’s arm being lifted to the crowd. The other guy lay at his feet and didn’t look like he was standing on his own feet any time soon.
Marco nodded as he threw back his drink and we picked up our seconds. “But then that would be questioning my God.”
“Valen’s going in there?” I asked.
Marco nodded as we both tipped our drinks back and motioned for a third. “Valk’s going in there tonight.”
A new contender was led into the cage and a great roar drowned out the rest of the noise in the place. He was huge. I was sure he was twice the size of the guy they’d dragged out from the previous fight.
“And there’s his competition,” Marco muttered, throwing back drink three.
“Valen’s fightinghim?”
Surely even Valen couldn’t hold his own against a guy that size? Pure physics had to be against him.
“And he’s a nasty fucker,” Marco whistled, leaning on the bar.
“You know him?” I asked.
Marco nodded. “Bratva boy. A Volkov. One of Valk’s kin on his mam’s side. Sure won’t treat him like it, though.”
“Bratva? Valen’s family?” There was a lot to unpack in that sentence. And the name Volkov sounded familiar for some reason.
Marco nodded as a concerned frown marred his features and he rubbed his thumb over his nose. “Even for Valk, this is a fucking stupid idea.”
My heart thudded in my chest. “What? Why?”
He scoffed, but it was humourless. “Peskov’s gonna wipe the fucking floor with him,” he said, more to himself than me. “He’s a fucking dead man.”
I grabbed Marco’s arm and made him face me. “A dead man?”
I shouldn’t have reacted that way. After all, I couldn’t stand Valen, and the feeling was mutual. Right? Why would I care if he was alive or dead? Not that Marco called me out on it. The closest he came was a glint in his eyes that really could have been anything else to do with the conversation.
And all he said was, “If Peskov doesn’t do it, Callahan’ll be first in line.”
“Cillian wouldn’t let him!” I cried.
Marco scoffed. “Valk’s old man’ll hold him down for Callahan to land the first hit.”
Now I frowned. “Why?”
Marco gestured around. “This?” he asked, and I nodded. “This is one step too far. Us Sinners can run this fuckery, but if God’s right hand takes part and gets himself injured and unable to do his duty? There’s a fuck tonne of contracts being broken then, missus.”
More contracts. Seemed our world was built on them.
“How much danger is Valen in, Marco?” I asked carefully.
Marco sucked his teeth as he looked back to the cage. “Valk’s on a path of destruction of his own making, missus. Pushing God just that little bit further. They’re both out of control. How much danger?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think he’ll stop until he’s got himself killed and all.”
So much for Valen thinking Apollo’s peacocking was idiocy. It seemed he was now joining in on it. And why? Because of what happened in Bieityn the day before? Or something else? Valen seemed to think Apollo egging on the opposition would be stupid. Was Valen doing it purely so Apollo wouldn’t?
My heart pounded uncomfortably in my chest, and it was suddenly very difficult to breath. I looked around but couldn’t see Apollo anywhere. The room was full of shouting and jeering. Alcohol and smoke invaded my nose. I felt my hand start shaking and fisted it.
“You all right, missus?” Marco asked, putting a hand on my arm.
I forced a smile and nodded. “Of course. Fine. Why?”
