End this.
I meant it. And Doherty knew it. As he turned to face me again, the fucker pulled a shiv. A flick knife from his boot, white-knuckling the handle, blade glinting beneath the obscene fairy lights above.
Here we go.
I licked blood from my teeth, a crazed laugh bubbling out of me. Energy shifting. Mine. His. The crowd as bodies from my corner surged forward.Brothers, charging to put themselves between me and Doherty’s blade.
I caught Folk. “Let him come.”
Folk shook me off but stayed at my side as Locke called time-out on the fight.
The mob jeered. Couldn’t tell why.
Didn’t care.
I bounced on my feet, clinging to the rabid energy in my veins with both fucking hands.
Waiting.
Waiting.
For Nash. It took him a minute to haul himself into the ring. Then he went straight to the Doherty corner and nailed the old man in the face. “Get your house in order. Oryou’llfightme.”
The crowd hushed. Nash was a nice dude, but even with a crocked leg, a bout with him was a surefire route to annihilation.
Nash crossed the ring to reach me, off balance with his limp, anger messing up his usually mellow face. He held up the blade. Damn. I hadn’t even noticed him disarming Doherty the Third. “By rights this is yours.”
I waved the knife away. “Give it back to the cunt. Let’s finish this.”
“Sure about that? He might finishyou.”
“You think?”
Nash gave me a hard look, one that made it obvious he was searching me, inside and out, for how much gas I had left in the tank. “It’s not a fair fight if he has a tool and you don’t.”
“He won’t have it long.”
Nash pinged a glance beyond me. To where Cam stood with Jakov the Russian. WithJake, the man Viktor called brother. Then he seemed to either make a decision or acknowledge an order I didn’t catch, and he tipped me a grim nod. “Make it count, but don’t leave me a fucking bloodbath to clean up.”
“Aye, captain.”
Nash spared me a grin, returned the blade to the Doherty camp, and left the ring, accepting Rubi’s helping hands down from the mat.
For the first time ever, Locke’s gaze didn’t follow him. It bored into me, heavy with concern. Withloveand the weight of all the years of pain and heartache we’d survived to reach this madness. “Is that head of yours ever screwed on fuckin’ right?”
“Still on my shoulders, Lockie. Hasn’t flown off yet.”
Locke almost smiled, but a missile from the crowd—a beer bottle—missed his face by a hairsbreadth, and my giant friend jumped the ropes to deal with his own shit.
I didn’t watch. Locke had always been shit at fighting for himself, but he’d burn the world down to stop Nash doing it for him.
The satellite chaos left me with Folk, and thedadlook on his face wasn’t a world away from Locke’s. But it was more resigned. He knew me. This was happening whether he tried to talk me down or not.
He didn’t.
My old pal wiped blood and sweat from my brow and tipped a bottle of water over my head. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast. Before the coke across the way kicks in.”
“I ain’t scared of a little sherbet.”
