Chapter Twenty-Four
Thiago
My eyes follow Elijah as he moves through the space, and even though I’m just recovering, I feel like a prisoner locked inside a cage. I prop myself up, and pain shoots through my ribs while a headache pounds at my skull. I didn’t like not being in the loop, especially when it comes to Zayden.
“Stop pacing so much, it makes me uneasy,” I say through bated breath, and Elijah turns to me, running a hand through his curls.
He shrugs casually and, with a forced smile, says, “I’m sorry, just been thinking…” He stops, taking a seat across from me, stretching his long legs like he owns the place. “Do you know they want Zayden to lose tonight?”
My ears perk up, and my focus centers on him. I swallow the dread that worms its way to my chest when he asks, “You did know Zayden was fighting tonight?”
I clearly did not get the fucking memo, and I hope the look on my face is enough to answer his question.
He pinches his index and thumb, rubbing them together, creating an imaginary spark.
My stomach tightens as I wait for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, the question tumbles from my lips. “Who?”
Elijah shrugs again with a slight shake of his head. “Not sure, they didn’t say. All that was ordered was that he lose.”
My brows furrow as I nibble on the inside of my cheek, racing thoughts loop viciously through the crevices of my mind. “What, why?”
“Yeah, well… I’m not sure. Ask E, he knows.” Elijah glances at me, studying my reaction. I shift, pain flaring down my side. Fucking Ezra is doing things behind my back, especially when it comes to Zayden. It was the one boundary I had in place, and he crossed it.
“Why would he do that?” I ask almost timidly.
Elijah shrugs—his eyes bulging like it’s an obvious answer. “Because it’s Peter.”
Fair point.
I inhale deeply through my nose, forcing my lungs to expand…
forcing my body to work through the pain.
I didn’t like this, not one bit, and knowing Ezra didn’t even tell me shows that he’s indeed hiding things from me.
And that I hate the most. Right now, there’s only one person I need to see.
My eyes flick to Elijah, who looks bored as he picks his nails.
“Wyatt?”
“Still missing in action, Ezra has been looking for him,” he responds eagerly, eyes cued on my reaction. I give none. Wyatt is still missing can’t be any good, which makes me wonder what he’s really up to.
“Do you think he could be the mole?” His question doesn’t take me by surprise, but it does make it feast on my brain.
Could he? After what I saw, it could be possible, but I wouldn’t let Elijah know that.
And given what I know, there’s plenty of reason why he would want to burn the club down.
Wyatt is violent, and sometimes I wonder where his own line is.
But one could never know. I needed to speak with Wyatt first and pick his brain.
I stare at Elijah, trying to figure out his angle in all this. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing.” He leans back, hands behind his head, his eyes fixed on me. “Just funny how he always vanishes, not completing jobs. You know, I did see him talking to Wesley?”
“Wesley as in Weasle?”
He nods. “That very one.”
I lean back, trying to organize my scattered thoughts, trying to piece together the information so I can finally determine the missing link because I know that I’m missing something.
My ribs throb when I move, and I bite back the urge to scream.
Elijah watches me with something akin to curiosity, or maybe amusement, before he asks, “What happened out there?”
“I lost control,” I respond flatly, not wanting to talk about myself or really anything else. The only thing I want is for him to get out and to find Zayden. I didn’t like any of this… “Look, T… I’m just saying you should watch who you trust. People change when power shifts.”
And he isn’t wrong…
I watch him stand and shove his hands into his pocket. “Do you know where Wyatt was the night of the accident?” He pauses, looking out the window as if searching for someone who could hear him. “He was with your father and Mr. Roberts.”
The confusion is back, clinging to me like a second skin. “How do you know?”
“I was busy with a girl and saw them before it happened..”
His response turns my blood into a thick sludge that struggles to circulate. So many players and all of them keep secrets.
“Where’s the fight?” I ask, lifting myself from the bed and pushing my body through the pain. He turns to me, rushing to my side to help, only to be stopped with a wave of my hand. “Don’t need your help. Just tell me where the fight is.”
Zayden
I bounce light on my feet, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake the tension that knots in the middle.
It’s strange not having Safra here. I act as if it annoys me, but I’ll give anything to hear him say some shit that causes me to roll my eyes…
. Without him here, the air feels heavier, the crowd louder, every sound scraping against my nerves.
The cage door groans open, and my pulse stutters before finding its quickening pace.
Adrenaline and anticipation flood my bloodstream, making me all jittery inside.
I shake off my arms, my gaze moving toward the end of the cage just as Sledge steps inside.
Walking in short strides, arms swinging side to side, chin held up high, and shoulders back, only to fall when we make eye contact.
A river of lava replaces my blood, making me hot and lightheaded, and even more nervous than before.
What’s he doing inside the cage? And why the fuck am I fighting him?
More importantly, why are they making me lose to him?
Sledge wasn’t from Costa Mar or Villalargos, he’s older than us and bets on fights…
I touch the base of my neck, scratching at the spot, unable to maintain his gaze.
My fingers twitch against the tape, nerves crawling under my skin.
Sledge’s presence inside the ring doesn’t make any sense… and that’s all I keep thinking about.
He must have noticed, because he angles his head, studying me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Didn’t expect you,” I grumble.
Sledge chuckles nervously, touching gloves with me. “Didn’t expect you either,” he ushers out, offering me a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. What the fuck is actually happening right now? “Guess we’re both the punchline tonight,” he quickly adds.
“I guess so.”
I glance up toward the balcony that the elite hide behind and scowl in disgust. What are they up to?
The more the question tosses inside my mind, the more my stomach knots, then the bell rings, and it’s showtime.
Sledge wastes no time, moving first and testing me with a jab that lands against my ribs.
I let it, not even bothering with swinging back.
They want me to lose, I will. I won’t even lift a finger, then he lands another, almost knocking the wind from my lungs.
The crowd roars, and I can focus on the man before me who’s looking at me like a puzzle he’s ready to solve.
“Come on, man,” Sledge bites out, even though there’s no real anger behind his words. “You’re making me look bad.”
I shrug, not caring about his words. It’s not like I wanted to do this.
If anything, I think this fight would turn out pretty entertaining.
But if I would be forced to forfeit a win, then I might as well embarrass the assholes I arrived with.
Ezra. My gaze flicks back up to the balcony where Peter looks down at us, like insects, with a frown painted on his face.
Ezra looks unamused and lost in conversation with the man beside him.
Sledge swings, and the hit feels like a hammer to the jaw.
I can taste the blood that quickly gathers, and I swallow it down.
Still not changing my defense mode, two arms up, using my forearms to block.
“Don’t you do this,” Sledge snaps, moving forward, forcing us to grapple. “Fight… Zayden.”
I don’t.
We’re practically dancing, grappling each other in a macabre dance of violence.
“What? You don’t want to look good for your boyfriend,” he teases with a smirk, but I still don’t answer.
My focus continues to drift to Peter, wondering what he’s thinking.
Sledge notices. “Ahh… no Thiago tonight? Is that why you’re not showing off? ”
“Shut up,” I grumble, pushing him away. His lips stretch wide, his blond strands falling messily around him. “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise?” That earns him a glare, and he licks his lips. “He might be too busy with a sweet piece of ass. He’s known for that.”
“Watch it, pretty boy…” I warn.
He only taps his bare chest and grins. “Oh that hits close to home? Are you gonna cry about it…” Sledge moves with speed, and his hook hits the side of my face, causing me to stumble backwards. “Or fight.” His last word is punctuated with another blow to my side.
This time, I swing. He dodges, laughing. “There he is. Thought you were sleeping.”
“Keep talking, old man,” I warn. “I might have to lay you out.”
He does.
Baiting me perfectly into his trap. He’s the spider, and I tripped right in his web.
Moving with precision, I swing. My right hook catches him across the jaw.
He stumbles, surprised, then charges back.
We collide, fists and elbows. My favorite ballad of violence…
And Sledge dances perfectly to the beat.
My blood is pumping, my nerve endings come alive, and the joy of the fight consumes me.
I knee his side, sending him into the cage that rattles with every impact I deliver.