Chapter 50 Ivy
IVY
“This is utterly ridiculous. How can two guys who are carbon copies of each other hate one another so much? ” Brooke shouts over the racket, and I agree as we watch the two dumbasses roll around on the floor.
She yells, “We should’ve made them compete on the same team. Then maybe they could work together. Or just leave us out of it.”
“Have they always been like this?” I ask, trying to maintain my footing as I get shoved by the swarm around me.
“For as long as I can remember,” she answers. “It got worse when their grandpa died though. He left the majority of his fortune to them, and their dad has resented them ever since. I think he’s using them to destroy each other.”
“Really?”
I’m still processing the information as Brooke adds, “Yeah. I mean their father has his own share of the Montclair empire, but one thing I’ve learned about people with power is the more they have, the more they want to acquire.”
“Their dad is a prick.”
“Yeah, my mom doesn’t think so,” Brooke mutters. I almost think I didn’t hear her correctly, but from the disgust on her face, I don’t ask for specifics and can guess the underlying context that she’s insinuating.
The dual idiots look like they’re wearing down, their movements growing sluggish, but they refuse to give up. “We’re gonna be here for a while.”
They’re on their feet; Micah throwing a punch that lands on Luca’s chest. He staggers back a foot before taking his own shot which lands on Micah’s cheek. Both are covered in blood so much so that it’s hard to tell where their actual injuries are.
Brooke is right. They hate the very replica of themselves. However, I understand hating someone whose blood runs through your veins.
Luca ends up on his back, Micah on him as he pummels his head.
Luca’s arms shield his face as his legs come up and hook around Micah’s neck, taking him to the mat.
Luca keeps his brother pinned in the position as he looks at me, and I just shake my head.
I’m so over this spectacle. I lift my arm and tap on my wrist like, Hello, it’s way past time to stop beating the shit out of your twin.
Luca appears utterly insane as his mouth twists into a blood-splattered smile.
The match seems like it’s wrapping up because Micah can’t get out of the hold even though he swings erratically. Once he does escape, Luca kicks him in the face, his head jolting back to the point where I cringe and pray that’s the end of the fight. The brutality is too much.
Sure enough. Micah stays on the ground. After a few minutes, the referee announces Luca as the winner and lifts his bloody fist in the air.
Brooke goes over to Micah, kneeling next to him as I watch Luca. He doesn’t celebrate with the mob around him. And he shouldn’t. Because neither of them were ever going to walk away from this fight a victor.
I leave the Tomb and question why I even agreed to show in the first place. I’ve seen that side of Luca, just not aimed at his brother.
When I get back to the house, I go straight upstairs and shower. I wasn’t the one fighting, but I feel grimy and dirty. Once I pull on a tank and shorts, I notice a figure out on the balcony.
Sure enough, it’s Luca. He’s reclined in the lounge chair, wearing fresh clothes and the blood has been washed off his face though the damage is still evident.
“Really? Just relaxing on my balcony. Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”
He leans his head back and shuts his eyes. “Worst of it’s a few broken ribs. Nothing I can’t deal with.”
“Fantastic.” A broken rib is painful. I remember that part for sure. But I don’t want to discuss that. Instead, I drop into the other lounger, and we sit with a comfortable silence between us.