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“The fuck, dude?”
“Relax.” He steps up to me, slapping my cheek playfully. “There are twenty fighters. The chances of us coming up against each other are slim.”
Slim, but not fucking impossible. I shake my head and turn my back on him. I change into my gear, focussing on wrapping my hands and trying not to think about what the fuck I’ve got myself into.
I was prepared to fight people I don’t know, but coming up against Zeke? I don’t know if I have it in me to beat him.
Fighting the unknown is one thing–both of you are on even footing in that you’re going in blind. Fighting againstyour training partner is ten times harder. You both know each other’s tells, their fighting nuances. Trying to get the upper hand is almost impossible. Add to the fact that he’s taught me everything I know–he’ll be prepared for every move I make.
I need to win this fight. If I don’t, my brother’s debt collectors will move in, putting both our lives on the line. Not to mention Lily’s. I have to keep her safe. I have to win.
A wailing siren sounds, and I bring my hands up to cover my ears. “What the fuck is that?”
Zeke just laughs and pulls me to my feet as someone pounds on the door. “It’s time, brother. Let’s give them a good show.”
WE ARE BLINDFOLDED by masked security guards before we’re led back out into the arena, and I hate every fucking moment of it. My heart is racing, and the sound of the bloodthirsty crowd assaults my senses. I’m on edge, and any sense of calm that I thought I had has completely disappeared. This whole situation is fucked up.
I’m manhandled into a chair before the sound of metal clanging has me reaching up to pull off the blindfold. I blink against the flashing red lights, trying to gather my bearings, and panic kicks in when I see that I’ve been locked into a two-by-two cell–the same ones Lily had pointed out earlier that line the top of the arena. There are five cells along eachwall. One for each of the fighters. I rush to my feet, trying to push open the bars in front of me, but it doesn’t budge.
“Chill, dude.” I glance to my left and find Zeke kicked back on his seat as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “It’s all part of the show.”
“This isn’t a fucking game, Zeke,” I grunt out, returning to my seat. I can’t stop my legs from bouncing as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. I search the crowd, to see if I can spot Lily, Tom, or Lachy–desperately needing to find something to ground me–but the flashing lights make it impossible to see anything.
My stomach lurches as the entire room goes black, my fists clenching at my side as I brace for the monsters lurking in the dark.
THIRTY-NINE
LILY
TOM AND LACHY both curse and move in closer to me when all the lights go out, and we’re pitched into complete darkness. I can’t help but let out a small whimper as my eyes remain locked on where I’d just been staring up at Harley. He was led out behind Zeke, blindfolded, and locked into one of the prison cells I’d noticed earlier. When he’d torn the blindfold off after the gate had been locked behind him, I’d seen the panic in his eyes.
“This is messed up,” Lachy mutters beside me. I don’t know if he meant for me to hear it, but I tighten my grip on his arm, cowering closer.
The screens above the cage flash with static before a man appears wearing a mask. His voice is clear when he starts to speak, announcing the first fight. The screen splits, and a roulette with all the fighter’s names spins–the first fighter is someone named The Reaper, and a spotlight lights up one of the prison cells. The bald mancovered in skull tattoos inside grins manically, rattling the bars as he waits for the security guard to let him out.
“I feel sick,” I squeak out as the roulette spins again. I turn and bury my head against Lachy’s chest, unable to watch.
His opponent is The Human Hurricane.
There’s a darker element to these fights compared to the ones I went to with my cousin in Sydney. They feel a lot more sinister. Knowing Harley will be one of the fighters makes it that much harder to watch.
The cage lights up–a mask-wearing referee standing in the centre–and statistics are read out as each of the fighters make their way down. There’s a buzz around these two fighters. A man behind us is extremely animated in telling his friends about the brutal takedown from their last fight. Apparently, there’s bad blood between them, and The Hurricane is out for revenge. This sounds a lot more cutthroat than the fights at Knockout. There are no rounds with these fights. Instead, they fight until one fighter taps out, or there’s a total knockout.
The crowd is given a ten-minute warning to place their bets, and it’s then I notice the bookies weaving their way in and out of the crowd. Tom eyes them with a curiosity that has me reaching out and squeezing his hand.
“Don’t do anything stupid. We can’t risk any more trouble. Just trust Harley to do what he needs to do.”
He scowls, shaking me off. “We’ll be lucky if this fight gets us half of what we owe.”
“Listen to her,” someone speaks up from behind me, and Tom tenses. “These aren’t the type of people you want to mess around with.”
I look over my shoulder to see a middle-aged man with a sly grin standing between two burly guys with their bulky arms crossed over their bodies–they are clearly his muscle. There’s something familiar about this man, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. His gaze is steady on mine, but he gives no indication that he recognises me.
“Are you going to introduce us to your friends?” He directs this question to Tom, and I feel Lachy’s grip on my arm tighten.
“No. They’re no one,” Tom grunts out, shooting a meaningful look at Lachy. “They were just leaving.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Lachy pulls me away before I can say anything. He leans in close to speak into my ear as we get swallowed by the crowd. “He’s keeping you safe. They’re the real guys we don’t want to be messing around with.”
