Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I don’t know what this once-over implies. Is he checking me out? Is he sizing me up?
I can’t tell.
“You’re late.”
“Your door is hard to find.”
“Where’s your fucking gear?”
“I…” I take a breath, trying to force myself to be calm. “I don’t have gear. I haven’t been fighting. I did those tournaments to earn money. That was your question, wasn’t it? It was for money.”
“And is this for money too?”
“I wouldn’t mind the money.” He smiles and I relax a little. “But that’s not why I want to fight now.”
“Tell me why, then.”
“I want to fight because I’m good at it. No. I’m better than good. I’m great. And if the Ring didn’t end, I’d have made it there.”
He laughs. “Ya think so?”
“I do.” My chin goes up and I dare him to contradict me.
He takes one, two, three steps towards me. We were not three steps apart so right now I’m looking up at him. And at five-five in height, I am very small next to this looming man. “You could’ve fought me, then, little storm?”
“If you were good enough to make it, then yeah.”
The other two guys—who I had momentarily forgotten about—both laugh.
“I did make it, Irina.”
“Oh.” I blink once, then take three steps back as I suck in air. “Good for you, then. I guess.”
“It’s still around, ya know.”
For a moment, I can’t breathe. Then I get a hold of myself. “What’s still—” I falter. Suddenly dizzy. “The Ring of Fire?”
“Not called that anymore. Just Death Match, really.”
I’m lost. My mind is reeling with the sudden realization that the sick world I grew up in didn’t actually end for everyone when we killed our way to freedom seven years ago.
It only ended for us.
I turn away from him and stare at the door.
“Cold feet?”
I don’t answer him. It’s not cold feet. It’s… I don’t know. A gut punch. A realization that my reality was based on something false.
And I suddenly feel so stupid. So naïve and just… stupid.
Because of course we didn’t end all the fights. We didn’t end the slavery or the trafficking. We didn’t end anything, really.
We just escaped. That’s all it was. Just a stupid escape.
And that world, that sick fucking world, it’s still out there.
Filled with terrified kids and bleeding teenagers.
Filled with death. And worse.
Seven years. That’s how long I’ve been living in the fantasy world of ship life, and ocean travels, and jungle towns, and gyms in Rio, and a new passport that gets me a life in America filled with cell phones, and condos, and best friends, and waitressing jobs that come with free Argentine rice bowls.
“Irina?”
I shake my head, unable to believe I’ve been living this way.
“Hel-lo? Irina?”
In denial. Oblivious. Carefree and sometimes happy.
I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been.
I pull the door of the gym open and walk out.
CHAPTER 6
The door slams closed behind her and I look over at Wade and Davis.
Davis is squinting his eyes at the door like maybe she’ll reappear.
Wade takes a sip of his coffee and lets out a breath. “Well, she seems nice.”
“Shut up, Wade.” I pull the door open and go after her. I’m expecting her to be gone, disappearing from my life as quick as she blew into it. But she’s not. She’s at the bottom of the stairs pacing the alley.
I meet her down there. “You wanna fill me on—?” I stop talking because she’s looking at me, and something about her expression comes off eerie and haunting. Maybe it’s just the streetlights casting shadows and making her face look hollow and pale. But I don’t think so.
She blinks. Breathes. Gets a hold of herself. “When was the last fight?”
“Ya mean the death match?”
“Yeah. That. When was the last one? Where are the camps? Where are the kids? Who’s running it? What happened to everyone—”
“Hold up, girl. Slow down and ask one question at a time.”
She comes at me, pointing her finger in my face. “Fuck you! Where did you come from? Whose camp were you in? Where are they!” She screams this.
And instantly, I’m pissed. “Listen, girl—”
“Fuck you!” She strikes me. Right across the face with a closed fist. My lip stings and splits. I pause, because I’m kind of in shock, and then I laugh.
She tries to hit me again, but I’m ready this time. I block, she strikes. She kicks, I block. She’s attacking me and I don’t even know why.
I’m not sure if I should kick her ass or just back off and forget the whole fuckin’ thing.
But she doesn’t even give me a choice. She just keeps coming at me like a little fiend. Like an animal. And just as I’m thinking that word, her lip curls up over her teeth and she growls.
Which is where I draw the line. I grab her arm and twist it. But she is slick and small and her movements are smooth. Like she’s been grabbed by the arm by thousands of men long before I got here and knows how to get out of a hold.