Murphy chuckled and raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t my fault your girlfriend wasn’t paying attention.”
My blood ran cold, and I was instantly filled with guilt as my stomach knotted. “Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, keeping an eye on Murphy as he sauntered across the room.
“How fast can you make yourself sick?” Seb asked, gripping Dean’s shoulder.
“Not fast enough. We’re on after these guys...” he muttered, blinking slowly as he rubbed at his eyes. The drugs were already taking effect.
I had unintentionally roofied my boyfriend and now he was about to be beaten to a pulp. All because I stupidly didn’t check the bottle properly.
The final bell rang out and Dean lifted his head to look at the entrance to the fight pit.
“You can’t be considering going ahead with this?” I looked to Seb, hoping he could back me up on this. Silently pleading for him to.
Seb slowly shook his head, his face drawn.
I went to open my mouth again, but Dean was already moving. I followed him, taking twice as many steps to keep up with him and Seb as they approached the pit entrance.
Just as we reached the wall that separated the crowds from the back lounge, he stumbled. His hand shot out to brace the wall as he rubbed at his eyes again and shook his head to rid himself of the drowsiness.
I remembered that feeling all too well, but I could barely walk that night. Even after managing to throw up what had been put in my drink, I still blacked out.
Dean somehow expected himself to fight like this.
Seb gently clasped him on the shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”
A nod before he lowered his head.
“You are not okay.” I ducked between him and the wall. “Dean, you can barely stand.”
His tired eyes found mine but before he could talk, the speakers erupted with an ear-piercing whine. Joe, the old commentator, began his usual introductions.
“Alright, gentlemen. It's now come to the part of the evening you’ve all been waiting for. To be fair, so have I,” Joe chuckled.
I gently cupped Dean’s face.
“I don’t have a choice, Lily,” he said softly, reading the worry on my face.
“Yes, you do—”
“Now, our first fighter of the two has recently come back from a sabbatical of sorts. A retreat if you will, to clear his head before he enters the ring again. Let’s just hope it finally pays off. Please give this Irishman a warm, welcome back! It’s Murphy’s Law!”
Jack Murphy stepped from the shadows nearby, smirking in our direction before he swaggered into the pit. He lifted his fists the second he entered, and the crowd roared to near-deafening decimals.
My hands remained on Dean’s face. He gently took hold of my wrists, stroking his thumbs on the back of my hand as he closed his eyes and rested his head on mine.
“Please don’t do this,” I whispered. “What if we talk to Antonio? Convince him to stop the fight.”
His eyes remained closed as he breathed in. “People have paid...a lot of money to see this.”
“So? They can get their money back.”
Dean lifted his head again. “Those businessmen came here expectin’ to earn double.”
Seb interjected politely from where he leaned in the entryway, eyeing the crowd as he spoke. “Dean would be in a world of shit if he didn’t fight at all.”
“He’s going to be in more shit if he loses anyway. Look at him.” I hadn’t meant to snap at Seb, but I was scared.
