Downfall(37)

Normally when I had a fight, it was easy enough to slip into a quiet headspace; the only thing I was focused on was keeping my face from getting smashed in and my limbs from being torn off my body one by one. I usually put in earbuds, blasted something loud and aggressive, and warmed up with laser-sharp focus. It was no secret that I won more than I lost for a lot of reasons. My unwavering focus and intensity toward the task at hand was at the top of the list.

But today, my mind was all over the place. I was anxious and twitchy. There was an uneasy tingle all along the back of my neck I couldn’t shake. I kept lifting my hand and rubbing at the spot, but the more I became aware of the prickly sensation, the more it buzzed and popped under my skin.

It was an odd sensation to be in the Pit when it was practically empty. I was used to the old warehouse being full of eager gamblers and wild fight enthusiasts calling for blood and broken bones. When people were cheering and screaming my name, it was easy to forget I was doing something barbaric for a paycheck. It felt almost like being an entertainer, like I was putting on a show instead of beating someone to a pulp when the locals were around to root for their favorites. With the massive, open space empty except for the men dressed in the one-of-a-kind, tailored suits I would never be able to afford, this fight felt much more like what they really were… gory, gruesome, blood sport for the entertainment of men who would never know what it was like to have to fight for anything in their overly coiffed, pampered lives. People like them loved to watch because they were used to the violence. For them, these fights were the equivalent of watching the two meanest dogs in the junkyard go at each other. For the men paying for today’s private bout, it was something different. It was more like taking the strongest, most ruthless representative from their clan and putting him up against whomever was tough and capable enough to protect the reputation of the city.

If I lost today, it wasn’t just getting my ass kicked. No, my entire town would look like we couldn’t stand toe to toe with those rich fuckers from the gated neighborhoods up in the hills. There was an added layer of pressure I was trying to keep from getting to me as the man wearing the most expensive suit in the room slowly made his way to where I was hovering in the entrance of the locker room.

If my boss was the person I respected most in this city, then the man now standing in front of me was the only one I admittedly feared. Something happened to the air when the man we simply referred to as the Devil got close. It was almost like the molecules in the very air shifted and changed. Like they moved out of the way to give the man, and the dark, charismatic energy he radiated, enough space. There was a weird change in temperature whenever he was in my orbit. I knew it was all in my head; the man couldn’t really carry hellfire with him, but there was no denying I always found myself taking a preventative step back when his unusual gold eyes landed on me. Anyone watching would think I was being a wuss. The man was several inches shorter than me, incredibly lean, and dressed like he was going to a board meeting. He looked like an executive, not a fighter. Outwardly, there wasn’t much that would identify him as the biggest threat in the room, but the second those gold eyes settled on you, there was zero doubt to anyone who had any sense that this man was lethal. Those eyes weren’t human. They were otherworldly, and so was the man. I’d seen him strip down and fight more than once. He never lost. Never.

Boss was wrong when he said I was the best, because the Devil was better than the best. He was untouchable, unstoppable, and when he wasn’t hiding in his designer suits, he was both ripped and shredded like a soldier, and if possible, even more heavily tattooed than I was. His ability to hide in plain sight was terrifying. So was the absolutely cold way he sized me up and told me, “Something is off. From the start I didn’t like the hard sell these guys gave me, and I didn’t like the way they insisted the fighter going against their guy had to be you. Told your boss to talk you out of it, but figured you wouldn’t walk because of the money.”

I nodded slowly, looking over his shoulder to where the other men dressed like they were going to the opera were standing. I hadn’t seen the other fighter yet, so I was even more anxious about the odds being in my favor.

“The Boss tried to tell me to walk. I couldn’t. The money will pay for my mom’s care for several years.” I dipped my chin down and took a calming breath. “Have you seen who they brought in to put me up against?” I hated feeling clueless before a fight. I hated the lack of control. Not knowing killed me. I was someone who had every minute of every day planned out. Unknowns were scary and stressed me the fuck out, which was part of the reason Orley and Noble were taking up all my free time. I didn’t want them to be unknown. I wanted to know them as well as I knew myself. I wanted to be able to predict what they wanted, what they needed from me. I wanted to be someone who was reliable and involved.

The man in the suit lifted a hand with an intricate tattoo spread across the back of it to rub his mouth. Rumor had it the tattoo represented his wife, who was also his business partner, but I’d never had the balls to ask. I’d met the stunning redhead he married once or twice. The thing I remembered most about her, aside from the fact she was a knockout, was the fact that the woman was nearly as intimidating as her man. It figured she would be a badass, one who proudly wore a diamond mined from the pits of hell, since she had to stand shoulder to shoulder with the man who checked the criminals and miscreants in my city. He was ruthless and cruel. She was calculating and cunning. They were a deadly match and infamous in all the right ways.