Chapter 6
Six months later
Edward
"What the bloody hell—?" I watch as Baron launches across the short space that constitutes the fighting ring of the street-fight organized by the Bratva.
We are in the warehouse where the Kings of the Alley street fight organized by the Bratva takes place every week.
Dumbass Damian had made a deal with them.
The Bratva would get him onto one of the most prestigious venues in London to perform his first gig.
In return, Damian would take on their best fighter, aka the Incredible Hulk—only uglier—a guy who shakes off Baron like he's the Ant Man.
Yeah, Baron had taken Damian’s place because he is a better fighter, but clearly, he is no match for the Russian street fighter who heads toward his prone body. I move forward, pause when Baron jumps to his feet. The two circle each other.
The crowd begins to chant…
"Go Dima."
"Dima."
"Dima."
Obviously, they support Baron’s opponent. Not a surprise, given this is the Russians’ home ground. Dima lowers his head and charges toward Baron, who tries to sidestep but is not fast enough. His adversary smashes into Baron and the two go down.
Shit. I race toward the man guarding the gate to the makeshift ring, Saint and Arpad at my heels.
The guard throws a punch. I duck, rush in.
Behind me, I hear the sounds of a scuffle, while Arpad charges past me.
He grasps Dima’s shoulders, shoves him off of Baron.
I reach Baron, Saint right behind me. We haul him up to his feet, drag him out of the makeshift arena.
I turn, glance back to find Arpad getting in a direct hit to Dima’s head, then his chest..
.to the stomach, to the side, the chest— I straighten, and with Saint’s help, drag Baron through the crowd.
We haul him toward the cordoned-off space at the side that passes for a dressing room.
We half-carry, half-drag him inside and pour him into the lone chair.
I lean back, chest heaving. "You’re bloody heavy, you know that?" I grouse.
Baron shakes his head, blood pouring from a cut in his lip. "Why the fuck did you drag me from there?" He lurches to his feet, takes a step forward and pales. "Shit." He grimaces. "The asshole broke my ankle." He sways, then sinks back into the chair.
"Erm," I glower, "do you want to ask that question again?"
"We saved your sorry arse from being ground into the dust, bitch," Saint snarls. "What the fuck is wrong with you, volunteering to take him on in the first place?"
"Why didn’t you let Arpad take on the challenge to begin with?" I scowl at the wanker. "He’s bigger than you, better suited in size to take on Incredible Hulk, out there."
Baron growls again. "I could do it…" He bunches his fingers into fists, "I can still defeat him." He squares his shoulders, "Just need to get back in the ring." He rises to his feet, sways, but stays standing.
Saint and I exchange glances. Then Saint taps him on the shoulder, and he collapses back into the chair.
"You were saying?" Saint smirks. Baron scowls.
I glower back at him. "Let Arpad finish him off, you ass. Sit this one out, will you?"
"No," he snaps.
"Yes," I insist, "you don’t have to fight every battle that comes your way."
We scowl at each other and Saint throws up his hands. "You two… Why the hell do you always end up locking horns?" He stares at me, "You got this? Because much as I like to hang out with you two idiots… Not." He grimaces. "I’d better head out and see how things are out there."
Without waiting for a reply, he pivots and heads out of the cordoned off space. Baron and I glower at each other.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" I lean forward on the balls of my feet. "You could have gotten seriously injured, thanks to that stupid pride of yours."
"Yeah," he mutters, "but I can’t back down from a challenge, you know that."
"Is that why you’re still taking part in your extreme sports?"
"Among other things."
"What’s that supposed to mean?" I frown
"Nothing." He mumbles. Footsteps sound, then Weston walks in. He places the first-aid kit on the floor next to Baron, pulls out what he needs, and proceeds to clean the wound on his lip.
Baron grimaces. "Shit, that hurts."
"Good." Weston scowls at him. "That was a stupid move, insisting on being in the ring with a man almost twice your size."
"It’s good practice," he mutters.
"Practice?" I tilt my head, "For what?"
Before Baron can respond, Weston applies butterfly bandages to the wound on his lip.
Baron closes his eyes, leans back in the stool.
Weston takes care of the cut on his cheekbone, then bends to examine Baron’s ankle.
"It’s not broken," Weston murmurs, "but you need to keep it elevated for a few days, keep the weight off. "
Baron doesn’t reply.
Weston straightens, turns to me. "You guys okay?"
Neither of us speak.
Weston packs up his first aid kit, then straightens, "You know, the only way to clear whatever grudge it is the two of you have with each other is to talk about it."
Baron snorts.
I raise a shoulder. If only it were that easy. The stuff that Baron and I went through... No kid should ever have to experience anything like that. No adult either. But we did. And now we are are… Fuck, if everything isn’t a bloody disaster.
Weston scowls at each of us. "If I leave, you won’t attack each other or something, will you?"
"Don’t worry, Mom," Baron drawls, "your wards are not going to kill themselves when they are not on your watch."
Weston chuckles, "If you want me to leave so you guys can have a tete-a-tete, then you only needed to tell me."
"Just get out of here, will ya?" I mutter.
Weston snatches up the first kit and marches out, leaving the two of us in silence. Neither of us breaks it. For a beat, another.
Finally, Baron, pops open one swollen eyelid, "You’re really doing it, aren’t you?" he demands. "You’re joining the bloody seminary."
"I am," I say in an even tone.
"Awesome." He straightens to his feet, winces, but stays standing. "Good luck with that, and whatever else you decide to do with your life." He limps past me, his shoulder bumps mine as he heads towards the perimeter of the space.
"Wait," I frown, "what did you mean by that?"
"By what?"
"By whatever bullshit it is you just said?"
He clicks his tongue, "No swearing; remember, you’re going to become a priest?"
"Fuck that." I clench my fists at my sides, "What the hell are you going to do, Baron?"
"Wrong question." He smirks at me over his shoulder. "You should have asked me where I am headed."
"Where are you headed?"
"Somewhere far away from you lot, hopefully."
My heart thuds in my chest. Shit, shit, shit. "What the hell does that mean?"
He yawns, "Seriously, Ed, you’re beginning to resemble a nagging old lady."
"And you…" I grit my teeth, "you’re like an errant child who doesn’t know his arse end from his front."
"Temper, temper." His grin widens, "You’ve made up your mind on what you want to do with your life, and now it’s my turn."
He turns, walks away, and I spring into action. I jump toward him, grab him by his shoulder and yank him around. "What the bloody hell?" I shout. "What the fuck are you going to do, you bastard?"
He winces, glances down at where I am gripping his shoulder. "Let go of me," he says in a hard voice.
I hesitate, and he snaps, "I mean it, Ed."
"First, tell me what the hell you are going to do?"
"First, let go off me."
We glare at each other, then I release him. "There," I mutter, "now tell me what you are up to."
"Wouldn’t you like to know?" Turning, he hobbles out of the area.
What in the everlovin’—? Stunned, I watch him for a few seconds before I give chase. I run after him, but despite his impeded gait, he’s already managed to cut through a part of the crowd and is half-way to the exit. I pause near where the rest of the Seven are huddled,
"Baron, you fucker. Where the hell do you think you’re going?"
My voice rings out above the noise of the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I notice Sinner and the rest of the guys glancing between us.
Baron reaches the exit, pauses, then turns. He seems to take in the scene, glances at each of the Seven in turn before his gaze settles on me. He jerks his chin, or at least, I think that's what he does. Then turning, he stalks out.