Chapter 17
HAYES
The next three fights pass with barely a muster of energy. There’s no explosion of skill, no prowess as the men grapple with each other on the dingy floor.
Amateurs. It’s almost disappointing. How could anyone vote for someone like that as a second?
Nursing the cold glass to my cheek, Collins stands between my legs as she cleans my split lip. Her fingers shake the barest amount and I see how she shifts, rubbing those long legs together. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the violence turned her on.
Interesting. I can barely contain my glee. I knew my viper was wicked, but not like this. Maybe we really are meant for the other?
She pokes my lip and I wince, the sharp pain stealing my breath and thoughts.
“Hayes Monticello, the infamous brawler of the O’Brien clan and a little cut can take him down.” She rolls her eyes. “The girls would be so upset to see you like this.”
Giving her a dirty look, I try like hell to keep my eyes off her legs. “What girls, viper? I only have eyes for you.”
She scoffs. “Right. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how many women you bring around the house.” My mind flashes to faceless beauties. None of them lasted longer than a week. Not when Collins was here. “Blonde, blue eyes. Real original.”
I wink. “Do you watch me, Collins?” I tease, watching her cheeks flush. “I’ll let you in on a secret.” I pull her flush, my body curving around hers protectively. My lips brush her ear, scotch still on my tongue as I say, “None of them can hold a candle to your beauty. Want to know why?”
“Enlighten me,” she drawls. I laugh at her.
“Because none of them can kill me. Only you can. Because you’re devious. If pushed the right way.” My tongue licks at her lobe and she gasps, her sweet breath fanning my collarbone. “And I’d let you, Collins. Because you’re worth dying for.”
Her cheeks turn a dusty pink and it’s quickly becoming my favorite color on her.
Clearing her throat, she shoves me back. “You should let me give you medicine.” She’s avoiding me and I chuckle. “I can’t if you’re drinking.”
Stealing the glass back, I take a deep swallow, her eyes trailing my tongue. “This works faster than medicine, and look. It’s already here.”
The final fight concludes with Ethan winning. A hard slam of the guy’s head into the slate floor and it was over. Good thing I put my money on him to win.
There are five contestants on the board now. Only three go to the trials. The clan now votes on who fights whom. They prioritize blood, so all my favors are useless at this point. Now, it’s up to Fate.
Papers are tossed around, as members write messy names in their drunken stupor. Killian collects them, remaining passive as he tallies the votes. He murmurs something into Maeve’s ear, hand hovering over her leg.
Then, a flash of silver, as Maeve lays her knife over his knuckles in warning. We might be fighting, but damn, I’m proud.
Then the first fight begins as Maeve calls West and Finn. It’s strategic. The clan knows West is lower than Finn and they want Finn to go to the next round. He’s a cousin, built from tough stock, with a steely gaze that doesn’t waver.
The fight doesn’t last the full five minutes. Finn’s fucking ruthless. With a thin body and quick hands, he attacks West right away. A few punches gets him on the ground, and Finn catches him around the back. Locked in, knife to his throat, Finn cuts deep without waiting for Maeve’s decision.
They’re dragging West’s body away as Collins snorts. “He didn’t even wait.”
“He didn’t have to.” At her arched brow, I tip my glass back. “Only cruelty gets you points here, Collins. Finn knows that. We all do.”
“And Maeve?” she asks, dabbing harder at my cut. I wince.
“She, most of all.”
“I’m starting to see that,” she muses. “But we all don’t have to make it our entire personality. We can control it, fight it back. Feed the light instead of the cruelty.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I nod. “Some can. Unfortunately, when you’re fed only darkness, you don’t get that choice. That's all you know. It becomes who you are. Not feeding it, would mean not feeding your soul, and that only happens when you wish for death.”
Collins grabs the last bit of my drink, slamming the rest. “Death is too easy.”
Smirking absently, I gesture for more booze and wink at my date. “Not all of us grew up the favorite daughter of a powerful man, Collins. Cut the rest of us some slack.”
She physically flinches, closing herself off from me.
A kernel of guilt explodes behind my chest, but she can’t honestly think she had it rough?
Ferguson treasured his middle daughter, kept her protected, gave her the best of all the children.
He ignored Sloane for most of her life and forced Maeve to serve his second.
Of all the siblings, she was allowed to thrive in the light. It’s one of the things I love about her—how she seems to radiate warmth and compassion. Only someone pure could ever be like that.
But my mind flashes to how jittery she seemed after my fight, her blown pupils, the flush in her face. The way her legs rubbed together. Those aren’t responses of a pure woman—but a hungry siren, feeding off of blood and gore.
“You look like shit,” Killian comments, leaning against the bar. A few men give him a wide berth. Most are afraid of him—rightly so. Others dream of bedding him. But unless you’ve got a thing for knives, they wouldn’t last.
“Fuck off, reaper,” I mutter, sipping from my new glass. “I’m self-medicating.”
“I see that.” He glances at Collins. “Not using the doctor to her fullest potential?”
“I tried,” she gripes, my insult no longer souring her mood. “He’s refusing medical attention.”
“Stupid, considering this round is to the death.” His eyes glint in the flickering flames.
“Gee, really? I didn’t catch that when Finn spilled West’s blood all over the tile.” My lips twist into disgust. “Meg’s going to be pissed to clean that up.”
“She’ll live.”
“Let me guess. You did this?”
Dryly, he hums, holding a glass. “Obviously.”
“Any reason why?”
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
Point to the hitman.
“You should let her stitch you up.” The heavy notes of whiskey drift through the air and I swallow another gulp. “You’ll need all the help you can get. Heath isn’t pulling any punches tonight.”
Fuck. I’m going against Heath.
And Killian just gave me a leg up. The bastard is planning something.
Stepping off the stool, I peer into the murderer’s eyes, grin sharp. “You know, I want to snap every bone in your miserable body. Every single one.”
He rolls his eyes. “Does that make you special?” He finishes his drink, turning the tumbler over. “Don’t die. She wouldn't want that.”
Watching him glide through the crowd, I pinch my brow. I might know who my opponent is, but I know nothing about Heath’s fighting style. Hell, I barely know what he looks like.
Collins slaps my chest. Glaring down at her, I bark, “What?”
“Heath always steps before he hits.” At my raised eyebrow, she gestures to the bar. “While you’ve been drinking, I’ve actually been paying attention. He steps before he punches. He doesn’t kick much, which I assume is because his legs are weak. Take them out and you have the advantage.”
I’m hardly ever impressed but fuck, I am now. “Seriously? You noticed all that from one five-minute fight?”
She shifts again and pieces click. She watched the fight. Not because she wanted to know the competition, but because my viper gets off on violence. The signs are there—and it just saved my ass.
“Maeve said you’d be in the lower rankings,” she explains, oblivious to what I know. “I figured it’d be from one of the cousins, so I watched their fights. You have the size and strength over Heath, but he fights dirty. Watch where he steps and you should be fine.”
I’m going to kiss her, drop to my fucking knees for her, when this is over.
She noticed something that’s pivotal to my survival and all because she likes the depravity. This beautiful creature to my side is as dirty as the rest of us, and if it doesn’t warm the black soul inside my chest to feel a kinship with her.
Grabbing her hair, I haul her close, laying a harsh kiss on those pouty lips.
Collins stiffens at first, nails cutting deep into my chest out of fright and I moan against her mouth. She’s not the only one who gets off on violence.
Those nails rake down, melting under my kiss and her hips surge forward, seeking me out. We moan together, sounds drowned by the hum of the bar. Our tongues mesh, slopping and raw as our teeth clash.
This is the siren under that perfect daughter mask. This is the monster under her demure smile and I’m ready to let her drown me into a watery grave, just for another taste.
I inhale, letting Collin’s sweep me away, her essence filling my lungs. All I can see, feel, touch, is her. The woman who is at once haunted but pure, hungry but sated, mine but not.
No, fuck that. She is mine.
We break apart, and she heaves, eyes wide, glasses skewed. Her cheeks are an adorable pink, and her chin glistens with my spit and her lipstick. I like marking her with my fluids.
“Stay by Maeve,” I command, thumb ruining her makeup further.
“You need to live,” she reminds me, voice soft. She looks so pitifully turned on that I can’t help the swell of pride in my chest. I did that. “I’m not going to be Bruno’s wife.”
Agony, the kind that comes from being crushed under thousands of pounds, blooms under my skin.
“Like Hell is that happening, viper.” I exhale, holding on to the burning coal of anger. “There’s only one person you’re marrying. And it’s not fucking Roman.”
Her brow furrows as I step away, pushing everything for Collins away.
My mind needs to be clear, goal at the front. Win this, become a contender. Win this, and live.
Win this and keep Collins.
Heath stands in front of me, and I remember Collins’ tips. He’s smaller than me, dark eyes and light shaggy hair, but she said he’s dirty. Which means everything around me—the glasses, chairs, tables, Hell the knives—are all weapons. Everything is fair game.
Five minutes seems too short to have a real fight. But it’s just enough time to die.
Too bad I don’t plan on dying.
The whistle sounds and Heath throws a tumbler at my head. I drop and I silently thank Collins for her foresight. It explodes over my head and a few of the members shout out in alarm.
Pushing from the floor, I charge at Heath. Thank God my size helps. I take him down in a heap of limbs and his head snaps back, a nasty crack reverberating through the room. He swings out, vision blurry, but I grab his wrist and snap it.
Heath howls like a wounded dog as I scramble off of him to pull my knife. God, he’s loud. I’ve killed quieter men than this. He rolls, getting to his feet, but his eyes are clouded and I seize my chance, slicing my blade toward his chest.
The fucker turns at the last second, kicking out to my shin. Something cracks, not a full-on break, but enough for me to yell. A sprain, maybe. That shit hurts.
He blinks a few times, grabbing the silverware and chucks it at my head. Thankfully, his aim is shitty and it misses, a few of the forks slicing my thigh. A roar leaves my lips.
How many more lucky hits is he going to get? I need to end this.
Heath moves to the left as I jab but I fucking miss. The knife gets stuck in the hightop behind him and the douche punches me square in the jaw. Once, twice, he lands a few on my cheeks, one on my jaw and my eye. I smile—he’s actually trying here. I can appreciate the fight.
My whole head swims, nausea rolling up my throat and I bark out a laugh.
“Crazy fuck,” someone says to my left and I drop my knife.
Spinning, body rebelling, I avoid another hit to grab a chair. Like a ragdoll, I toss it at his head. It hits his thigh and he trips, crashing to his knees with a solid slap. Groaning, I pull my knife free and stalk closer.
But he’s not done. He surges upward, tackling us to the ground and the fight turns filthy. Nails digging, clothing pulled, everything is a weapon—floor, table legs, broken glass. My knife gets lost in the struggle and I mourn the loss.
Then, he flips me, his blade to my throat. Blinking, I see his head turn, looking to Maeve for the order.
Fuck this. I’m not dying like this. Not when I finally have Collins.
My hand wipes the ground and catches on a sharp piece of glass. It’s no bigger than a quarter, thin but it’ll work. Maeve raises her hand to pass judgement but I lash out, glass cutting his throat, breaking off into his skin in the last inch.
Warm blood sprays my face and chin. He gurgles, metal falling to the ground before slumping to the side. Gasping, I touch my neck, my face before sitting up to a crowd of stunned faces.
There’s a pause, then an explosion of cheers.
Glancing to the stage, I see Killian’s wicked grin and Maeve’s wide eyes. But Collins? Her smile is as radiant as the sun over crystal clear waters, and her lips are parted in disbelief.
Well, look at that. My little viper is happy to see me survive.
“You have your victor,” Killian calls, stepping toward me, shuffling his hands into his pockets. The asshole doesn’t make a move to help me to my feet. “Meet your contenders: Finn, Ethan, and Hayes.”
Relief surges in me and I fight the urge to vomit. I did it. I fucking did it.
Collins saddles up to my side, picking a piece of glass out of my shirt. She sniffles slightly. “You could have had him with the first hit. You were sloppy.”
“Giving fighting pointers now?”
She wipes her eyes discreetly. “You forget, Hayes. I’ve seen you fight. I know you.”
Chuckling, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, feeling her tense just enough to raise suspicions. But her arm winds around my waist, allowing me to lean against her and she melts. “If you’re so set on helping me fight, maybe you can teach me a few things. Naked, of course.”
Collins swats at me as Maeve stops before us. She scans me, cataloguing all my injuries, face unreadable.
“You survived.”
It’s as close to a congratulations as she’ll give me. Nodding, my hand curls on to Collins’ arm, a possessive mark that both she and the reaper notice.
“Take him home,” she directs Collins. “He’ll need to rest.”
“Take the medical advice of the professional too, Prince,” Killian drawls, watching Maeve leave. “No one wants an easy victory.”
“Worried about me, reaper?” I smirk, wincing as Collins presses a finger into my cut cheek. Ow.
Killian’s cold eyes scan me, looking for a weakness I don’t have.
“Check his head too, Coli. He sounds almost delusional.” Laughing, I let Collins pull me to the exit, my north star guiding me home.