Chapter 16
COLLINS
Transfixed, I watch the blood smear into the ground as two men drag the corpse away.
The red is stark against the blue slate tile and I swallow, pushing the unneeded memories of seeing so much blood spilled in one setting.
Instead, I look up at Maeve, sitting on her throne, a ghoul waiting to pass judgement.
But this is clan life. Order found through violence. Pops taught me that. Seeing Maeve, it’s hard to shake the feeling of seeing his presence, hovering over her shoulder. She’d make him proud.
It’s difficult to allow this image—of the daughter my father forged—with the sister who made sure we always had dinner, who made sure our homework was finished nightly.
Realistically, I knew this side of her existed. Men actively flinch when she walks by.
Seeing her deranged, with drops of red covering her cheek and neck, almost makes me feel closer to her. Both of us tainted from this world—except she shows everyone hers. I keep mine hidden.
Hayes’ arm is still holding me and I don’t hate it. Glancing up at him, I take in the unfamiliar expression as he stares at the spot the man was killed.
“Did you know him?” I ask. The room buzzes from the fresh kill, noises pounding into my ears.
“I did.” He blinks once, emotions locked away. “Everyone knew Roman’s little brother.”
“Shit,” I gasp. “Little brother? Won’t he retaliate?”
Pops was always concerned with starting a war. Every movement, every strike was calculated with risk weighed. He kept me locked away because of the very real fear that I would be targeted as revenge should he mess up.
“Eh, Roman started it.” We look to the stage as Killian and Maeve debate quietly. “He killed a kid that your sister gave her protection to. She was just finishing it. An eye for an eye.”
My heart breaks for the child—or as much of it that can. I’m not exactly right in the head.
Leaning back, I let him take some of my weight, my feet aching. A room full of killers, men who hurt women like me, and one of the biggest threats is lazily drawing circles along my hip.
Hayes Monticello is one of the most dangerous men in our world. And I feel completely safe within his arms, with blood running close to our feet. It’s not the first time he’s made me feel safe—but it is the first time I’ve sunk into it, let it wash over me and inhale it into my lungs.
“Now what?” The air shifts and we tense, feeling it happen. “What’s happening?”
Hayes barely moves. “The vote.”
Maeve takes a bucket full of written names, and I cock a brow at the anticlimactic charade.
“That’s it? Pull a few names out and they get to compete? Seems a little too easy considering we just watched my sister kill a man.”
Hayes lets me go, stepping to the side to remove his jacket. Next he rolls up his sleeves of the grey Henley, tribal ink on display. Hungrily, I take it all in.
Then, on his forearm, I notice an old raised scar, covered in black whirls and sharp lines. Before I can ask, he hands me his gun.
My mouth parts. “What do I do with that?”
Silently, he cocks an eyebrow as I gingerly accept the weapon.
“Try not to shoot yourself.” He slides brass knuckles on to his left hand.
“Keep it pointed down and away from you. I don’t care if you shoot anyone else.
Actually,” he pauses, rubbing his chin. “If you’re going to shoot someone, aim for Linwood. ”
“Hayes!” My hands shake. It’s odd that a gun freaks me out when I’ve used medical instruments to dissect flesh without issue. “What is going on?”
“You’re holding my gun. I can’t bring it into the fight.”
“Fight?”
Maeve clears her throat, standing. A piece of paper is held between two fingers. “First round. Donovan. Hayes. You’re up.”
As a collective, the crowd steps away, a ring forming. Another man, not quite as big as Hayes, steps forward. With short cropped blond hair, a pointed chin and sky-blue eyes, he scans my fiancé with something akin to apprehension.
He’s afraid of Hayes.
Hayes brushes a kiss to my temple and I jump. “We really need to work on that.” He pushes me closer to the stage. “Go up there. I won’t be long.”
My knees knock together as I climb the stage to stand beside Maeve. No one stops me, in fact, most give me a wide berth.
“Five minutes.” Maeve waves her hand and a whistle sounds.
Both men charge. Hayes gets the first hit, the weaponry on his hand knocking into Donovan’s face. A stray tooth flies across the circle, the ping lost to the roar of cheers and shouts.
“A grand on Donovan,” a man bets next to Killian, voice lost to the crowd. All three of us watch the fight as the two men trade vicious blows. Donovan lands a stomach punch on Hayes and he doubles over. Wincing, I hold my mouth and try not to shout out.
“I’ll take that.” Killian laughs as another hit knocks Hayes’ head back. “Donovan has no chance.”
The runner shakes his head ruefully. “Are we watching the same fight? Hayes is getting his ass handed to him.”
The reaper raises a brow. “You’ve clearly never seen the hitter in a fight. He doesn’t go down so easily. Especially when he has something to prove.”
Maeve watches the clock, counting the seconds. I shift, body so tightly wound, I feel like I’ll break if touched.
“What is happening?” I whisper as our shoulders brush. The scent of blood carries on the air and I inhale through my mouth. “How is this voting?”
She side-eyes me, her foot tapping to each punch. “Five minutes to fight, to show the clan what they’re made of. Then, the clan votes on the winner. The winner goes to the board.”
Looking at the names, I cringe when I hear a few more hits connect. “There are ten names. That leaves 5 contestants. You only take three.”
“The two lower ones will have to battle it out with higher ranked men.” I look up at the clock. It’s only been three minutes? Adrenaline courses through my veins as my heart thrashes in my chest. This is madness in the purest form. “Hayes will be in the lower two.”
The fight continues, hits turning frenzied.
It’s not Donovan who explodes, but Hayes, as he holds the man down to pummel him.
He attacks with a savageness that reminds me of the angry sea—thrashing, rolling, cutting.
Donovan falls back, face bleeding, jaw distended.
It’s broken—along with a few fingers, a dislocated eye socket among other injuries.
This is Hayes. Primal, fierce, a man who can—and will kill, to get what he wants. This is the man who stalks the city streets and men scurry away in fright.
My core clenches in want. The fury, the viciousness floods my veins, turning my worry into carnal need.
Hayes has never been more attractive to me. And God, it’s doing unholy things to my pussy as I clench my thighs and pray for the madness to leave me. This scares me—this side, this need that gets off on violence. That’s why I lock it away and never let anyone see it.
And it’s going wild for my sister’s best friend.
Hayes pulls a blade and holds it to Donovan’s neck before I can gasp. Maeve raises her hand and the room quiets.
There’s still a minute left.
“Time,” she calls. Scanning the crowd, she jerks her chin. “Vote.”
A roar of applause erupts as Hayes stands. His cheek is bruised, lip cut and bleeding and his left leg holds most of his weight. But he’s alive. And he was magnificent.
Two men drag Donovan away, a few patting his shoulder in sympathy. He didn’t win but there is a kinship in his loss.
“Hayes goes on the board.” She nods, and the runner puts up his tag. Not before he hands a wad of cash to Killian for losing the bet. He slips it into his pocket, smirk smug.
Sitting on her seat, Maeve’s black nails dig into the armrests. “Five-minute break before the next round.”
The crowd attacks the bar while I spin, confusion marring my face. “He won, how will he be in the lower ranks?” I saw the way he fought, the way he attacked. He’s not the weakest member of this clan, he’s probably the strongest.
And that man will be sleeping in my bed tonight. Heat douses me and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“He’ll be in the lower two because he isn’t blood. He has to work harder to get into these games. That’s just the way it is.” Maeve crosses her legs, barely looking at me.
Fury coats my skin and I dig my nails into my palms to keep from attacking. It’s not her fault—not completely. I’m reacting to the stimulation. And it usually goes one of two ways.
Get a hold of yourself.
“But you can help him.”
She shakes her head. “No, I can’t.”
“He’s your best friend—”
“And your fiancé,” she bites out. “I can’t do anything.
I am as much an onlooker as them.” She gestures to the crowd.
“They decide who will become second. And I have to follow their wants. They’ll make him work for it simply because he isn’t blood.
” She gives me a look. “Simply because he lied to the Captain. And they all know it.”
Catching myself against her throne, I breathe deeply. Dammit. My lie got us into this mess. I made things harder for him. Why couldn’t I just let things happen?
Because I need to control everything.
I never considered how this could screw everything up for Hayes. Or rather, I didn’t care. I only wanted someone to help me.
“You better hope your favor is enough to help him,” she mutters, slouching back in her seat. Killian hands her a glass of something dark that smells woodsy and heavy and she takes a long sip. “Otherwise, they won’t let him live.”