“No, you fucking don’t. Your brother isn’t the person who you’re fighting tonight. Dante is. So, keep your complete attention on him and in this match so he doesn’t beat the shit out of you knock you out of Mercy too. That’s what Micah wants, and you know it.”
It’s not Micah I’m focused on, it’s her and how he’s right behind her. Motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. Because when I glance back over, I see his smirk as he mouths, “Good luck, brother.”
I don’t need luck. That’s why my twin is the one who’s worried about getting me out of Mercy as soon as possible. And there’s no telling how low he’s willing to go.
“Luca,” Cain shouts, “what’s the goal?”
“To win.”
“And who’s in your way right now?”
Me.“Dante.”
Cain doesn’t look completely convinced with my response, but he just slaps my arm and tells me, “Don’t forget who you’re fighting tonight.”
I repeatDantea few times as I take a step closer to my opponent. The referee stands between us, repeating the only rule of the Tomb. “Last one standing wins.”
That’s the real goal. It doesn’t matter how you get to the end. As long as you’re the last one standing. And I intend to be. Here and in Mercy.
A bell sounds the start of the fight, and I watch Dante as he advances towards me. He’s too eager. I know the feeling. I’m ready to pound my fist into his face, release all the wrath and rage that is suffocating me, but I know not to advance too quickly. And when he makes his move, I pivot on my heel, then throw an uppercut that connects with his jaw. He quickly rebounds and goes to swing, but I come around and sink my fist into his gut. The release of fury isn’t coming fast enough, but it dissipates with each punch I land on my intended target until I’m towering over him as he lies on the ground.
Dante stays down for a few seconds but attempts to stumble back to his feet as I take a step back. I make the mistake of finding her in the chaos. Her eyes are on me but it’s Micah’s arm around her that keeps my attention a second too long. And it’s just enough to not see Dante’s fist connect with my nose. The pain isn’t bad, but my vision blurs. While I throw a wild punch, he answers with another blow to my rib cage.
Cain is right. My head isn’t here, and I just proved it. But it’s not over.
I shield a punch, pivoting until I can get a clear hit. And I do, I get a good one on him and feel the momentum shift. His knuckles plunge into my side again. The pain a little stronger with the repeated hit.
Pain I can handle. Losing I can’t.
Moving back, I blink until my vision clears, which is right in time to dodge another blow. He’s wearing down, but I’m justgetting started. The burn fueling me, every scrap of fury I have goes behind each swing, hit, and kick.
Dante collapses to the ground, and I move over him, my fists merciless as I pound against his body. Anger at myself is directed towards him, and I don’t stop until I know he won’t stand up.
And he doesn’t. Hell, he’s barely breathing at this point, and then his buddy moves to him, asking him if he’s okay.
The ref declares me the winner, lifts my bloodied fist in the air, and the crowd roars with applause. The moment should feel incredible. But all I can do is watch her. She’s not smiling or clapping or celebrating. Brooke pulls her into a hug, and my eyes shift to meet Micah’s. He’s clapping slowly with a smirk on his face before he disappears into the crowd. He tried to distract me with her. He knows beyond a doubt she’s my weakness. The one thing we know better than anyone is once someone discovers your weakness, they have everything they need to destroy you.
I should stay away, but I can’t resist. Moving towards her, she watches as I approach. Once I’m in front of her, I ask, “Do I get a victory kiss?”
“No.”
“Not even a pity one?” I tilt my bloody chin up. “I’m injured and wounded. There’s not even a morsal of sympathy in there?”
She lets out a laugh. “I don’t feel sorry for you. You’re the idiot who stepped into the ring.”
I swipe my thumb across the blood on my lip, then reach forward, smearing it along her jawline, staining her skin. “So, you don’t mind seeing me bleed. What does that say about you?”
She doesn’t pull away but leans closer to me. “You just beat a man until he couldn’t get off the floor. What does that say about you?”
“That I will win no matter the cost,” I admit, knowing Mercy will cost me everything. But I’m all in. I have to be. The only way out is to win.
Standing on her tippy-toes, she moves her mouth to my ear. “Wouldn’t expect any different from you.”
17
IVY
Thank God it’s Friday. PE won’t even be a full class since we’re dismissed early for a pep rally—which I won’t be attending. This school is as obsessed with football as my old school was. I’m so tired of walking the hallway of Belgrave Academy and seeing Luca every five freaking seconds. He hasn’t said a word to me, but he doesn’t have to. Just his existence is enough to make me want to gouge his eyes out.
