Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ENZO
“Ready kid?”
The air is thick with the acrid stench of sweat and the metallic bite of blood. My heart slams against my ribcage, each beat a ticking countdown to my first fight.
In my mind, I’m already there—dancing through the jabs, delivering surprise kicks, executing every move Mullvain drilled into me.
Left hook, right jab, keep my guard up.
Breathe.
Focus.
This isn’t just about proving myself to my father or placating my uncle. This is about making Mullvain proud. And, if I’m being honest, earning some serious bragging rights when I finally meet his pretty daughter one day.
The referee pats me down for weapons, his one good eye sharp and assessing, the other a lifeless void beneath a brutal scar.
His hands are rough, patting me down with a thoroughness that borders on invasive. “You sure you’re ready for this, kid?” he growls, his breath a mix of stale beer and legendary regrets.
I nod, swallowing the lump of fear in my throat. “I’m ready.”
“Once you’re in the cage, that’s it. No one comes out until one of you wins and the other one is dead. Whatever’s thrown in the ring, try to grab it with your hands.” He raises his hands, clenching them into tight fists. “Then it’s yours for the fight. Otherwise, you’ll be defending yourself against it.”
Not exactly comforting, considering he’s missing two fingers.
The crowd is a frenzied beast, their roars and cheers electric and terrifying. The air crackles as I’m led through the sea of people, the cage a shadowy outline ahead.
Each step fires pure adrenaline through my body. My pulse thuds loud in my ears in time to the deafening roar of the filthy rich and deeply depraved.
The cage door slams shut with a resounding clang, and then I see him.
My feet stop cold.
The rush of blood freezes in my veins.
He’s the biggest, most ruthless man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Monstrous, towering, and twice my height. Shit, my entire body weight would probably fit in one of his legs.
It’s the moment I realize just how hard my uncle fucked me over, and how life as I know it is about to nosedive into the worst part of hell.
“Mullvain.”
The man who’s shaped every punch, every move, locks eyes with me, his steely green gaze wide with panic.
“Stop the match!” Mullvain’s voice cracks with desperation as he pleads through the cage to Andre .
Uncle Andre chuckles, his eyes glinting with that trademark cruelty. “You know the rules. Not until one of you is dead.” He glances at me, then back to Mullvain. “Well, did you show him the ropes? Or does that happen now?”
“No! I won’t fight him. He’s just a kid!” Mullvain’s voice is swallowed by the crowd’s roar, and the bitter desperation in his eyes is haunting.
A buzzer blares, and Mullvain turns to me, his form seeming to grow three times in size, eyes wild, teeth gnarled. “Defend yourself!”
“What?”
He grabs me by the neck, hoisting me up until my feet dangle. It’s a move we’ve practiced a dozen times. His voice drops to a whisper, concealed by the roar of the crowd. “Look terrified.”
“I am terrified.”
“The entire routine. We need to play it all out now.” Regret is etched in every line, every glance. “You’re gonna get hurt.”
“And then what? The man said one of us has to die.”
Defeat washes over his face. “We keep going until I figure out what to do.” Without another word, he hurls me against the cage.
And, as usual, he was right. It hurts like hell, knocking all the wind from my lungs.
He kicks me in the side. To him, it’s a gentle tap. To me, it’s agony. I recoil in pain.
“Move!” he barks. On command, I do. Like a petrified jackrabbit fleeing a hungry wolf.
The cage is small, and our pre-orchestrated moves quickly lose steam. “Well?” I ask, breathless, as he throws me into a headlock.
“I’m thinking. I’m thinking,” he mutters, tossing me over his back. I land in a tuck and roll, coming up on my feet .
As a desperate last resort, I kick him in the nuts. I mouth sorry as he doubles over, slowly sinking to the ground until we’re eye to eye. “How long does it go on?”
His face drops. “Until one of us is dead.”
We start to stall, and the crowd jeers every second we do.
“What if we just stop? Call a truce?” I suggest, my voice barely audible over the growing boos.
His eyes darken with resignation. “Then we’re both dead. Two guards are just itching to shoot us down.” He grabs me by the back of the neck. “Brace yourself.”
I do, but when my entire body slams into the floor, bones crack, and the taste of metal floods my mouth. All I can think is, he’s going to do it.
Mullvain has to kill me.
I’m about to die.
When a gun lands next to my hand, with the initials AD etched into the handle, I don’t think. I grab it.
The roar of the crowd swells like a wild animal, bloodthirsty and demanding more.
Heaving and gasping for air, I struggle to my feet, the gun pointed at Mullvain. Tears blur my vision, making it hard to see what I’m aiming at. “I won’t do it!” I scream to Uncle Andre.
“Then you’re both dead.” My uncle casually points to two guards high in the stands. “I thought you were ready.”
I shift my aim to his fucking face. But the second I do, Mullvain grabs the barrel and shoves it against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“They’ll kill you, kid.”
“Let them! I don’t care. I’m dead anyway, and I’d rather take him down, too.” But when I glance back, my uncle is gone, vanished behind the thick wall of people.
He smacks my face. Tears fly. “What are you waiting for? Do it!”
“I can’t,” I beg, crying.
Mullvain’s grip tightens on my face, not in pain, but to lock my attention onto his eyes. “She’s my heart, lad. They both are. One day, remind them of that.” I don’t need to ask who he means. His daughter. Two daughters. Our pact. Our secret. Fight Club.
The gun slips from my grasp into his. I don’t hear it go off. I only see his eyes, filled with a plea.
Then, the weight of his body crashes into me, and the world blurs.
The crowd’s roar crescendos, the buzzer sounds, and the ref drags me to my feet and raises my hand in the air.
My eyes drop to Mullvain’s.
He’s gone.