Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I’m choosing mine. Two goals to focus on.
Killing Tusk. Burning down the Cage.
And if I don’t come out on the other side… Fuck. I don’t really give a shit.
As long as I get those two things done.
* * *
We get back to the barns, and it’s the same routine as before. The guards lead us out of the vans one at a time under Victor’s supervision. Except this time they leave the van’s back doors open and facing the other vehicles, and I can see what’s going on while I’m waiting for my turn. Handlebar comes out of one, carrying Crash, and that hole inside me goes so ragged and bloody that I can’t fucking breathe again.
The guards don’t escort Handlebar to the barn. Instead they head around it. Where he’ll bury Crash.
I lost two brothers tonight. And if Handlebar still wants to kill me for it…I’ll let him. After Anna’s safe.
They lead Tusk in, and watching him helps that ragged hole start filling up. Not going to be killing him tonight. But I will. I would have anyway, for what he did to Draft—and what I suspect he did to a hell of a lot of other fighters, considering the way Crash knew some ugly sick shit was about to happen.
But also because Crash made that promise to Cherry. He can’t follow through now. So it’s one thing I’ll do for him.
She comes out of the van, hovering over Airbag as he limps toward the barn. I don’t know what plan she and Crash cooked up to get out of here. Something she needed him for, a plan that won’t work anymore.
But Cherry might have given all of us another way out.
It’s just Abyss and me left in the van when the guards come for me.
“I want my phone call,” I tell the guard unlocking my wrist shackles.
He laughs. “This ain’t a jail, new guy. You don’t get a lawyer.”
Yeah, and this asshole is useless to me. To Victor, I call out, “That bastard on the video with my sister said I’d be able to call her after winning a fight. I won a fucking fight. I want my call.”
Victor’s eyes narrow. “That promise didn’t come from Papa.”
“Then who runs this fucking place? The Iron Blood? They can go around making deals for Papa that he doesn’t have to follow through on? That’s who you’re working for, too?”
His jaw clenches. Well, that’s real damn interesting. Not a fan of the Blood? To the guard he says, “Leave him there a minute. Take number seven.”
Abyss. Calling him by his stall number. And leaving me here with my wrists unshackled, and only my ankles still locked down. But two more guards stand by ready with the stun guns.
So I’ll take my chances with Papa right now. Victor sends a text. Everything’s quiet. Out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere. The cold’s settling in through the open doors. Sweatpants aren’t shit in the desert in November. The guards who took Abyss in are heading back to the van when the phone rings.
“Victor.” A pause. “Yes, sir. I heard Chef make the promise. After every win.”
Chef. So Cherry was right. The Iron Blood’s enforcer.
One more asshole to kill.
By the way Victor’s nodding along to whatever Papa’s saying now, the boss must not be too happy with the deal that fucker made. Probably Chef should have stopped at promising to kill Anna...but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with that promise, too. Because without it, I’d never have fought. I’d have assumed Chef killed her after that, anyway. She probably saved herself by saying that the only way to make me fight is by giving me proof that she’s still alive after.
Saved herself. Just like Cherry is.
My gut fills up with rot. Then satisfaction rushes in when Victor nods and says into the phone, “Yes, sir. You are always a man of your word.”
Papa is a man of his word? What a fucking asshole. There’s nothing worse than a self-righteous bad guy. He’s a goddamn flesh-peddler, trading in death and entertainment. But keeping his promises makes him an honorable man?
More likely, he’s just rich. And rich fuckers have a habit of justifying all the ways they crush the little guys under their boots. I keep my word, you keep yours, and we’re all equal and in this together—and we’ll just ignore the fact that I didn’t give you much of a choice when we made our deal.
Yeah, it’s bullshit.
But this time, I’ll take it. And use it.
With the phone still against his ear, Victor glances over at me. “I would say that Mr. Wall proved himself a valuable addition to your stable.”
And I would say they’re all dead men walking. I’m not a valuable asset. Instead I’m the liability that’ll bring them down.