Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Marco: Fracture
It’s a rare morning of pouring rain in Victora, cold and grim. Regardless, I’m at the dungeon before sunrise.
I don’t allow the guards to open the cells until I’ve seen the food delivered to the table directly from the kitchen. Until I’ve inspected everything, and put some aside for Robin.
The rest of them can have a cold breakfast. They don’t even deserve to eat today.
They stumble out, one by one, complaining loudly of their night behind bars until they set eyes on me, seated at the head of their table. Silence takes each one, wide eyes in response to my own gaze eviscerating them.
Jason’s one of the first, and his chest turns in on sight of me. He doesn’t say a word, only slinks to the far end of the table, keeping his eyes down.
René stops when he catches me, then looks back over his shoulder. No doubt at Robin. It’s like the idea slides into place. Robin’s why I’m here. Robin’s why I’m going to stay here. Robin’s why every one of these bastards is going to pay for what happened.
He slides through the doorway with Max’s impatient bump into his shoulder, then Max stills, muttering, “Marco… this is early.”
“Sit down.”
In they file, Robin and Cas last in line.
Robin looks exhausted. He should be sleeping. Healing. The only thing I want in this world is for his head to be resting on my pillow.
When he registers my presence, the worry is instant. I’m not helping his cause of fitting in or not looking like the favorite.
But he is my favorite. And he’s going to feel the full benefit of that from now on.
“Robin, you have an appointment with Evander. He’s busy today, so you’ll have to take your breakfast in there with him.”
I push his plate across the table. And while Robin’s still turning the idea over, Cas moves fast. He snatches it up and shoves it into Robin’s hands, then physically spins him toward Evander’s room.
I think I do like Cas after all.
Cas immediately joins us at the table, even as Robin disappears down the hall, throwing one last questioning look over his shoulder at me.
I wait for the door to click closed.
“Eat.”
Their movements are like treacle. Slowest of all is Jason, examining every piece of food as if I might have come here to poison them all.
If only I could.
I take some bread, tear small chunks from it in an attempt to stay calm.
“There are three more games in the variety rounds,” I begin. “Two of you will die in the quad match. Cas, Val, René, Juan—two of you have only days left alive.”
Cas, the only one who was eating heartily, rests his fork on his plate, waiting for me to continue.
“It’s a shame, then, that all your city walks, your escorted outings to the tavern, your late nights, and your open cells stop here. These walls, the training grounds, are all you’ll ever see again, for the short remainder of your lives.”
“What the fuck?” Harlan spits, slamming a hand down on the table.
“You’re all on lockdown. From here on out. Right through the champions rounds, and until I’m gone. Every ounce of freedom you’ve earned up until today is lost. It will be like the first day you arrived until your death day.”
A communal protest goes up around the table, so I speak over them. “No parties. No meetings with sponsors. You eat, breathe, and shit this room. And if one more of you even thinks about pissing me off…”
My chair screeches against the stone as I climb to my feet, letting out a long breath. It’s all I can do to keep my anger under control.
But that dumb fuck Val has to go and open his stupid mouth. “I don’t even know what this is about, but it doesn’t seem very fair.”
“Fair?” A chuckle claws its way out of me. “Twenty men dragged from their homes in chains and forced to fight each other to the death. And you want ‘fair’?”
“Marco,” René says softly, but I can hardly hear him over the blood rushing in my ears.
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Val, how about that?”
He scans the others for their support when I walk toward him, but he’s on his own. We’re all on our own out here.
“What’s not fair is that I went to a little party last night. An impromptu party. And do you know what Caro Rodrigo told me?”
He flushes at the use of his sponsor’s name, turning his face full toward me.
“She said she doesn’t like the look of that bruise on your face.”
“What br—”
I bring my fist down with full, vicious force, clipping his cheek, splitting his nose, spraying fresh red across his plate.
“What the fuck?” he shouts.
I grab him by the chin, hot blood gushing over my hand. “She doesn’t think she wants to sponsor you if you’re not going to draw the crowds with that handsome face.”
“Marco, stop,” yells Max, climbing to standing, while Cas leans forward on an arm, his fingers failing to hide the grin on his lips.
“Maybe you want to shut the fuck up right about now, Max?” I return.
And he does exactly that. He’s not a complete idiot. He wants to be captain next, and I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to jeopardize that by slipping the razor blade.
But I bet he knows who did it.
So I shove Val’s head down on the table, then settle eyes on Jason.
He’s immediately on his feet, ready to fight me off. But we’re surrounded by guards, watching on passively, and he doesn’t stand a chance.
“Do you know who else was at the party?”
“Marco, don’t,” says Jason, backing up as I round the table for him.
“Andrew Garcia.” My hand smashes into his stomach fast, no warning, and I slam his face down on the table. “He doesn’t like the sound of that cracked rib.” I slam my elbow into his side, and it sounds fantastic. One rib, hours and hours of pain. But I’m just getting started.
Even as he screams in agony, I force his face hard into the wood, taking up the knife next to his plate. He quiets when he feels the cool steel against his cheek, nothing but the wheezing of his deep, desperate breaths.
“Who put that razor blade in his food?” I ask softly.
No one says a word. A few of them exchange glances, but not one of them will give it up.
“Who the fuck put that razor blade in his food?” I shout, digging the blade into Jason’s face.
A spurt of blood splashes across the table. A few of them stand, shouting protests, looking like they might try to stop me.
But they won’t.
“It wasn’t me,” Jason cries. “I didn’t do it. I don’t know anything!”
I pause the movement of the knife, keeping the tip deep in his flesh. “I can make it all stop,” I tell them. “You can get your freedom back. You can live what’s left of your lives in some comfort. You all know I’m the champion. You all know I get the final match. This doesn’t stop until I say so.”
Nothing. So I rip the blade down his face and throw him to the floor, a screaming mess. René, Max, and Val drop to his side, holding a napkin to his wound.
I lift the bloody knife to point at them.
“This is just the beginning. If one of you crosses me again, you’ll pay.
You’re all scared of that Deathball. But I’m a thousand times more dangerous.
I know your sponsors. I have the Emperor’s ear.
Every one of you is standing here in one piece because I allow it.
Give me one fucking reason, and I’ll end the lot of you, long before you set foot on that sand. ”
I throw the knife down into the center of the table with a splatter of blood, then return to my seat at the head of the table. “Eat. You’ve got training in twenty minutes.”
Jason stumbles to his feet with the help of the others and staggers toward Evander’s office.
“Oh, Evander’s busy this morning,” I call to him. “Shame he had extra work today. I guess you’ll have to take care of it yourself.”
He shakes his head, blood dripping onto the floor. “You know I can’t play looking like this.”
“Yeah, you’ll have to do something quickly if you want it to heal in time.” I heap some meat onto my plate. “Though stitches hurt like a bitch without anesthetic.”
His blazing eyes narrow on me. “You fucking prick.”
I offer him one slow and wide smile. “That’s right. I am a prick. Right up until one of you tells me about that razor blade.”
I don’t let up from there. I wait at the table until they’re ready for training.
I take them out onto the field myself. Any man who even looks at Robin funny gets called up the front for a demonstration.
I work them until they throw up, most of them.
Not Robin. Then I go back for dinner, wait for them to shower, check myself that they’re all locked up for the night.
It’s only then I get the chance to speak to Robin alone, the key to his cell in my hand, his fingers wrapped tight around the bars between us. Only then can I ask him to come home with me.
“After they’re asleep,” he says, his speech thick and hoarse from his injuries.
So I sink my fingertips into his golden hair, letting the silken strands curl around me. “Does it really make any difference now?”
He dips his head, a rare flush lighting his cheeks. “Maybe it’s a veneer of respectability.”
My fingertips glide up his long neck, lifting his chin so I can look into his eyes. “I’ll protect you.”
“Marco…” he whispers, capturing my hand to kiss it. “You can’t control everything.”
His head leans into my hand as I press it to his cheek. “Then what’s it all been for, all these years of sacrifice, all the comparative power I’m supposed to hold, if I can’t use it to take care of you?”
I pull him a little closer, taking his waist through the bars to hold him flush to me. “We’ll play it your way, however you like. So long as you end each day in my bed, wake each morning on my pillow, and you’re never out of my sight again.”
He laughs, giving in to the kiss I press to his neck with a soft, too-sexy groan that makes me want to slip into the cell with him.
“I miss when you two were a big secret,” Cas mutters from his mattress, his back turned to us.
Robin’s hand settles on my chest to push me back, even though his fingers curl over the hem of my shirt, holding me. “I’ll come in an hour.”
“You absolutely will,” I reply, then break away from him with the final shove he gives me when Cas whines loudly in protest.
But Robin makes it to the villa in time to sit down for a second dinner with Esme. In time to say goodnight to her, to see her wrapped up in bed.
In time to bathe with me, to let me wash and brush his hair.
And when the day ends with Robin in my arms, his body safely nestled against mine, it’s like none of it ever happened.
Now he’s healing. Now he’s under my care.
And I won’t let a thing touch him for as long as I can stop it.