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“And you said?”
She stopped at the door and glared at me in disgust. “I’d rather roll around in poison oak or a big mound of horse shit.” Mouth gaping, I stared at her, but she waved me off. “Okay, that was a little too much. I thought maybe it’d lighten the mood. But I feel nothing will help with what we’re about to walk into.”
I shook my head. “No, butwhenwe get out of this, I’d love to hear more about your crazy life.”
Wren smiled. “Deal.” Her face hardened, and she opened the door. “Let’s go.”
We walked in and it was the first time I’d been in the main room. The cage looked bigger and more menacing now that I was standing right in front of it. Everything smelled like Clorox, and I had to swallow a million times just to keep from gagging. However, nothing could hide the smell of blood. There were stains of it on the mat.
“This way, Peyton,” Wren called out.
Tearing my gaze away from the cage, I focused back on her and followed her to a darkened corner where there were two throne-like seats, one a little smaller than the other with a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket off to the side.
“I guess the big one is for Martin Fairchild himself,” I grumbled.
Wren stood next to the smaller one. “Yeah, that’s what I’m gathering.” I sat down and she leaned in close. “He’s filming you right now. Your one o’clock.”
I could see him skulking in the shadows from the corner of my eye. He’d done the same thing to my mom. She had no clue that a lot of her life had been filmed secretly by the creepy bastard. It wouldn’t surprise me if more videos of her were somewhere in his home.
Scanning the room, I counted no less than ten cameras, all stationed in strategic spots. Finally, Eric waltzed in and stationed himself beside the larger chair. A few minutes later, Martin strolled over and took his seat.
“I think we’re about ready,” he said, smiling at me. He pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Bring everything out.”
“Got it,” came the reply.
The two men in robes came out, each one pushing a cart. I still couldn’t see their faces. They set the carts inside the cage and stood completely still like statues. Martin rested his arm on the armrest and leaned in closer to me.
“I never showed you the video of Ethan’s father and twin brother fighting, did I?”
My stomach plummeted. “No.”
He chuckled. “You’re in for a treat then.” He lifted the walkie-talkie. “Bring Jameson out.”
Heart racing, I stood to get a better view. Two more robed men walked out with Ethan in between them. Even from a distance, I could see how messed up Ethan was. His eyes were rimmed with darkness, and his muscles were so tense he looked like a caged animal. I’d never seen him look so unhinged, so lethal. Seeing him like that made chills run down my spine, and it scared the living hell out of me. He didn’t even look like himself anymore.
He walked into the ring, and that was when he looked over and saw me. I started to take a step, but Martin grabbed my wrist. “I don’t think so, Peyton. You’re staying right here.”
Ethan growled and slammed his hands against the cage, his eyes wild. “When I get out of here, you’re fucking dead! You hear me!”
Martin tilted his head back and laughed, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the champagne bottle and poured himself a glass.
“I think we need Caden out here,” he said to Eric.
Eric used his walkie-talkie and told the others to bring him out. Ethan gripped the cage, his eyes on me. There was so much torment on his face that it broke me. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and it felt as if my heart had been ripped out.
Tears clouded my vision, but I placed a hand over my chest and mouthed the words “I love you,” to him before the cage door opened and Caden stepped in, followed by two more robed men. Ethan turned away from me and faced Caden head-on. One of the robed guys guided Caden over to one cart while the second one led Ethan to the other.
“What are they doing?” I demanded, turning my glare to Martin.
Martin sipped his champagne and grinned. “You’re about to find out.”
Ethan and Caden both held out their hands to the robed men. I watched as they were wrapped just like they would be for any competitive fight. But then, they lowered their fists to the cart, knuckles side down. When they brought them back up, their fists were covered in what looked to be a thick, amber-colored glue. They lowered them back down to the cart, and the sound of crunching glass echoed all around me. I jerked my head toward Wren, who was standing and could get a better view.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Mouth gaping, Wren nodded. “I believe so. Their gloves are covered in shards of glass.”
“That is correct,” Martin announced. “Back in the day, Ethan’s father refused the glass. He wanted to fight fair against his twin brother. I knew Ethan wouldn’t make that same mistake.”
