AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve reached the top and am crossing the main floor again when I spot Luca walking up the bleachers to sit near the top.
Fury blinds me.
What the actual fuck is he doing here?
Chapter 13
Luca
Thefedisfuckinglate.
My father is still waiting for an answer from me, and it’s a bitter irony to realize that the power that Evie O’Hanlan offers might just give me what I want—the means of finding out who’s running this shit show and shutting it down.
Bitter because, at that point…what damn difference would it make, anyway?
I check the Rolex on my wrist before glancing around. My men are more spaced out this time. There are too many people around to have them close by, but I mark the location of each of the six men I brought, noting exit strategies and potential for logjams. It’ll do. Especially after the attack on Carina, I know it would be foolish to be anything other than on high alert.
I heave a disgusted sigh. Her return is a distraction I really could have lived without. Her reappearance has complicated everything.
After another ten minutes, I realize the agent isn’t going to show. I’m not worried. Sometimes that happens. He could be caught up with work and is unable to leave without raising suspicion, but I need the distraction. I want some news that will keep my mind off Carina’s safety and Evie’s ultimatum.
I can’t sit here much longer without drawing attention to myself. I get up and make my way down the bleachers to the front, where most people place bets. Another fight is starting. The two contenders are piss-poor and are made of nothing but bones with flesh strewn across them. Sunken eyes give away their addictions. Whoever is running this show is scraping the bottom of the barrel. I pick one for no reason, only to make it appear that I’m here to take part in the proceedings.
The fight starts and ends just as quickly. I bet on the wrong horse. The next two men who enter don’t look much better. One of the men seems to have a bit more strength than his opponent, though. Maybe they gave him his final meal. Some men request that, or a woman, before entering the Pits. I remember when I was being held below—I was offered both and declined both. The men who came from poverty or the streets took both with a savagery that made other men look away. For me, I had paced my cage, wanting to enter the Pits so I could kill and leave. That was all I focused on—making the kill as quick as possible so I could give up another soul and get out.
You sure made mine quick.Francis’s words whisper against my mind, and I shift in my stance, trying to banish his voice.
I place another bet, irritation goading me on. The fight starts, and I expect it to end quickly, but it doesn’t. The men fight viciously. Exhaustion has them hanging onto each other with every chance they get. If we were counting rounds, I’d say this was the seventh. The crowd grows restless, screaming for death.
Movement to my left has me glancing at a bald-headed man. The crowd parts for him, and when he reaches the cage, a glint of light catches on the knives in his hands before he releases them. They sail through the bars and land on the white sand.
Like flies to shit, the men part and dive. The crowd is electric. The event runners get exactly what they want. With a wide arc of the knife, the man I bet on brings the weapon down across his opponent’s neck. There is a second when nothing happens, and a hush falls across the crowd. Then a thin red line appears before it widens, and blood pours out. With the sight of blood, the volume blinks back on full blast, and I look away as the man’s dead body hits the sand.
Another soul lost.
I glance around until my gaze clashes with one of my guards. I give a curt nod, and he presses the piece into his ear. My men separate themselves from the crowd, and as I make my way up the bleachers, they fall into step around me. We leave the chaos behind us and climb a spiral staircase, not bothering with the elevator. I take in the air up at the storage lockers. There is no taste of death or sweat on my tongue. But if anger had a taste, that’s what would flood my mouth right now. I take out my phone to see if I have any messages from the agent. Nothing.
I push open the front door and exit the building as I slip my phone into my pocket. My men have moved in front of me as someone approaches.
Carina.What the hell is she doing here? They block her, and I wave them off, allowing her into my circle.
I’m ready to question her, but no words pass my lips as she swiftly points a pistol at my head.
Six guns point back at her, and fear tears through my system.
“Lower your weapons,” I order my men.
An order from me should be obeyed, but none of my men lower them, and neither does Carina. “I said lower them,” I growl, and one by one, the guns disappear. All but Carina’s.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” She pushes the gun closer to me. My men still have their hands on their weapons, and that makes me want to defuse this situation quickly. I don’t want any of them to get jumpy and take a shot that would result in their death.
Because I would kill them.
“What are you talking about?” I keep boredom laced tightly between my words. I don’t like having a gun pointed at me, but I won’t show fear.
Her pistol shifts toward the building before pointing back at me.
“Put the gun away,” I say.
