Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Recovering quickly, he jumps to his feet, knife out in front of him once again. He swings his hand in front of my face, trying to cut me, but I duck while moving out of the way. The quicker I am, the better my odds. Keep him guessing my next move.
“Do your job, Clarence,” Lincoln calls out to the guy, sounding bored. These men have been Lords for a long time. They should be able to take us down without thought.
I’ve got a split second to make a decision. It’s not the best, but it’s all I can think of.
I rush him, getting low enough to wrap my arms around his waist, and pick him up off his feet. I feel a sharp pain in my back as he screams out but the adrenaline coursing through me overrides it.
The weight of his body pulls us both down to the ground, slamming him onto his back. It knocks the wind out of him, and I take the opportunity it gives me and fist both my hands, hitting him in the face.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, feeling the skin on my knuckles split from the contact. But it doesn’t stop me.
Fellow Lords are yelling for me to succeed. They will be up next. If I lose, it sets a tone. Right now, I represent all of us. I’m not fighting them; I’m fighting for them. For us as a team.
Blood splatters my face, and my fists start slipping from it, covering his face and my sweaty hands. He fights back, or tries to, at least. His eyes start to swell shut, so he’s fighting blind. I’ve got an advantage.
I slam my fist into his jaw, feeling a crack. My next swing hits high on his head, making my arm go numb for a brief second, so I hit him with the other, knocking his head to the opposite side. Getting to my unsteady feet, I kick him, rolling him over onto his stomach. He’s coughing up blood and his body starts to convulse. I yank him back over, fall to my knees again, and wrap my bloody hands around his throat, squeezing with the little strength I have left. Now is not the time to show off. It’s time to finish what I started.
He doesn’t even fight me.
An arm wraps around my neck from behind, restricting my air, and I’m yanked off the guy. I start kicking and my hands grip the arm holding me in place.
“Calm down, Tyson,” Lincoln says in my ear. “He’s dead. You’re done.”
My body instantly relaxes in his hold, and he releases my neck. I fall to my knees, my bloody and busted hands slapping the concrete floor. I’m having trouble catching my breath. Looking down, I notice blood drips from my mouth. Did he get more hits in than I thought?
I cough and more blood splatters across the concrete floor. The room starts to sway.
“Gavin.” Lincoln calls out to our doctor who is among the audience.
The last thing I see is the guy’s knife on the floor, covered in my blood, before I pass out.
TWO
TYSON
INITIATION
Devotion
Sophomore year at Barrington University
I hold the knife down to my side, and blood drips from the tip onto the once pristine white marble floor. I had to kill the two guards to gain access to the house. They never saw us coming.
The woman lies on her stomach, hands tied behind her back with duct tape over her mouth, silently sobbing. Pathetic really if you think of why we’re here. Don’t ever let a pretty face and tits fool you. A woman can be just as ruthless as a Lord. She’s as bad as they come. So I’ve been told. We weren’t given much about why we’re here. Other than to collect another Lord and do whatever needed to be done to fulfill the assignment.
I kneel next to her, using the bloody blade of the knife to push her bleach-blond hair away from her face. “Where is he?”
She shakes her head quickly, informing me she doesn’t know. She’s lying. “Bring me the girl.” I stand, snapping my fingers.
The woman starts screaming behind the tape, her body thrashing on the floor. She goes to get up, but I place my black boot in the middle of her back, holding her down.
A fellow Lord, Miles Hopper, was given this assignment with me. He enters the living room, his arm wrapped around the girl’s upper arms. He shoves her into the room and she trips, falling to her knees. Her arms are also tied behind her back. She leans forward, her long, dark hair shielding her face from me.
I step into her and place the tip of the knife under her chin, forcing her head up. Bright blue eyes glare up at me. “Where is your brother?” I ask her.