"I’m Archer, by the way," He straightens, holds out his palm, "Archer Feldman."
"Baron," I reply, "Baron Masters."
"You do this often?"He gestures to the parachute, "Skydiving?"
"That was my one-hundredth jump."
"One-hundredth?"He frowns."How long have you been jumping out of planes?"
"Long enough to have a healthy respect for the fact that I survived that fall."
"Your parachute didn’t deploy?"He glances at my rolled up parachute, "And the reserve didn’t open quickly enough?"
I hesitate, then tilt my head, "Opened quickly enough for me to land without any injury."
"You were lucky."
Was I?"Or in the right place at the right time."Unlike the incident.All it takes is a hair’s breadth of an alteration and things can change, as I’d just demonstrated.If I hadn’t pulled the handle of the reserve parachute, things would have looked very different about now.But I had, and I had made the choice to move forward."And you?"I look him up and down, "You’re in the army?"
"I just got back from deployment a few hours ago."
"And all this?"I glance around the space, "This is yours?"
"Belonged to my parents," he shuffles his feet, "who are no more."
"I’m sorry for your loss."
He inclines his head."It was a couple of years ago, just after I turned eighteen.I’ve managed this place with the help of a caretaker since.And you?"He scrutinizes my features, "What do you do, when you are not falling out of planes?"
"That’s the question, isn’t it?"I rub the back of my neck."I’m trying to figure out where I am headed next."
He watches me closely, then nods, "Want to come in and get cleaned up, get a bite to eat, meanwhile?"
4
Baron
I face off against Arpad in the underground parking lot on the outskirts of London.What had started months ago as a means for the seven of us to let off steam has snowballed into a crowd puller.
Guys—and girls—turn up every week to watch us, knowing they are guaranteed a good fight.One of us going up against the other, until someone is knocked out cold.Or close to it.
After I’d accepted Archer’s invitation to lunch, we’d chatted.Turns out, he’d enrolled in the Army a year ago, at nineteen, had been deployed to Afghanistan.He’d returned from his first tour and couldn’t wait to get back.The excitement in his voice, the zeal, the focus, his pride in being part of something larger than himself...All of it had come as a breath of fresh air.I’d left, convinced that this was the route forward for me.
To channel my angst, my hatred, my anger at what happened to me into something that would serve my country and benefit so many others.Also, the challenge of pitting myself against the rigors of making it through the recruitment process.More than half of the applicants either drop out or get dropped, or so Archer had told me.He’d asked me if I was up to the challenge?And of course, I’d decided right then, that if I do decide to enlist, no way am I not making it through the recruitment phase with anything less than flying colors.
By the time my ride arrives, I am convinced that this is my future.I haven’t mentioned anything to the Seven, though.Not even to Edward.It’s not like this is a secret, just...I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest.The rest of the Seven all but live in each other’s pockets, the way they hang out with each other.Me?I prefer to keep to myself.Not that I have anything against any of them.Hell, I owe it to them that I made it through the days following the incident.
My family had grappled with it, tried to work out how they were going to deal with a son who was so clearly traumatized.Their answer?To throw money at it.I’d received the best therapy, the best help possible… Everything, except my own parents spending time with me.My sister had wanted to help, but they’d decided they didn’t want me to corrupt her with my presence.As if just being with me would result in something similar happening to her.So, they’d shipped her off to boarding school, and they’d have done the same to me, except my therapist made it clear that it wouldn’t help me at all to have so much change thrust on me while already being a fragile state.
So, they’d let me be; let me exist in that massive home of theirs.A place I hate almost as much as I’ve begun to loathe them.It’s another reason shipping off to the army makes so much sense.I won’t have to see them for a long time again.Not until the time comes for me to access my trust fund, and if I’m lucky, not even then.It’s money my grandfather left me and which I will be able to access when I turned twenty-one.Money I can use in whatever way I see fit.Money which will make me completely independent.
Money which I will inherit, provided I make it through this round with the asshole I am taking on.I throw up my fists, circle Arpad.Around us, money exchanges hands as the spectators bet on either of us.Not that the Seven have any lack of access to funds, considering the billions that their families share between them.It’s the principle of the thing, though.They want to watch us fight, they have to pay.And the people are more than happy to do that.After all, the privilege of seeing one rich brat kick the shit out of the other is more entertaining than reality TV, which is what they’d be binging on instead, if they didn’t have this.
I move slowly, lock my gaze with Arpad as I circle.Draw in a breath, as I bide my time.Wait.Wait.Arpad scowls; sweat beads his forehead.His shoulders bunch and his biceps twitch.Asshole can’t wait to fight.He’s quick to the draw, impatient.Me?I am happy to draw him out.To extend this encounter for as long as it takes.That’s my strength; I have infinite patience.I can wait for the other man to make a mistake, before I make my move.All I have to do is bide my time.So, I force myself to relax, empty my mind of all thoughts except the focus in my opponent’s gaze.His nostrils flare and the tendons of his throat move as he swallows.His gaze narrows and the hair on the nape of my neck rises.
I sense his intent to attack a few seconds before he charges me.I swoop to the side, pivot, throw my arm around his neck, and yank.The force of it has us pitching backward.I release him, hit the ground and roll to the side, just as he hits the ground where I’d been.The vibrations from the fall travel through me as I push up, turn, and straddle my fallen friend.I bury my fist in the side of his face and blood gushes from his mouth.I pull back, land another to his shoulder, to his side, back to his face.He blocks me, with his left arm, grabs my shoulder with his other, shoves me back with enough force that I lose my balance.
Instantly, he’s on me.He flings me off.I hit the ground on my back, and it’s his turn to straddle me, to land a fist in my shoulder, then swipe one in the direction of my face.I block him, hit out and get him with an uppercut.
