given to some stranger.
You already know the man who will own you after the tournament. I’ve got you, sugar.
Memphis
My heart constricts in my chest, and I don’t know whether it is with excitement or fear. Probably both.
I’ve developed a crush on Memphis, growing attached to him because of his words and the kinship I feel between the two of us. My body still remembers the pull his eyes had on me, the way his arms held me as he carried me to my room. And it craves more of it.
I fold his letter between the pages of my father’s journal, and sit down to dinner. I can barely taste the food, my mind is so far away.
I wonder whether Memphis will let me be, or whether he’ll want to claim me when he wins it in the tournament.
What scares me most is not knowing which option I’d prefer myself.
Eight
Memphis
“ A re you ready ?!” the announcer screams, though that might be too fancy of a title for what the man actually is.
Joe Pescopi is one of the local mob bosses, a close personal friend of Wilson Cobb, and a motherfucker who just can’t keep his mouth shut. So I don’t think there’s a man or woman in the room who’s surprised about the fact that he has so graciously agreed to play announcer for this little shindig.
What better way to spend your evening than roaring out sputtery bullshit at two men hell-bent on putting one another in the ground, right?
I don’t really care. All I need to focus on is winning, regardless of the Cobbs and Pescopis in the world.
I gnash my teeth against my mouth guard as I step into the cage, feeling the familiar spring of the soft floor beneath my bare feet. The crowd roars their welcome and I raise a hand and give them a winning smile, or as much as one could through the plastic I’m gnawing on. Wouldn’t want to destroy my lovely smile, after all.
“In this corner, we have Angel, a tough as nails Chicago prized bull with nothing to lose!” Joe blabbers on as I jump from foot to foot, wondering who my opponent is.
When the door on the opposite end of the cage opens and the lights focus there, I can’t help but grin. This’ll be a cakewalk.
“And in this corner we have Billy Green, an Irish brawler always who is never out of luck!”
The nearest spectators – all lowlife mob types of one sort or another, with their cheap girlfriends glued to whichever side they have their wallet on – groan slightly. Joe’s being especially cheesy tonight.
But that doesn’t matter to me. Billy Green is right in front of me and I know this will be fun. He’s a wiry sort of guy, about my height, with a gleam in his green eyes that tells me that his boss has been shooting him up with something my boss is too fucking cheap for. But I see the slowness in his step and the slight loll of his head as he looks from side to side, cracking his neck.
He’s been fighting too much lately. I’ve got this in the bag.
The realization hits me fast and hard, just as the gathered schmucks grow quiet. My attention snaps to the small balcony looking down on the cage along with everybody else’s.
Wilson, I think, my blood boiling at the sight of his smug grin.
But that anger goes away a moment later, when I see a true angel float in right after him, looking scared and lost. Adrienne.
I haven’t seen her for so long, I sort of started wondering if I was making up all those letters in my head and just imagining her existence. One look at her brings back all the dizzyingly delicious memories of her sweet body in my arms as I carried her through the mansion, the way she looked at me with those fear-stricken eyes that still had so much defiance in them despite everything.
God, she’s beautiful.
I’m gawking at her so hard that the mouth guard almost slips from between my teeth. I right it in my mouth quickly and give Cobb a nod, which he returns. He’s a sick bastard, but I know he needs me to win.
The bosses of the other major houses file in around him and when all of the big fat
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