“I can t-t-t-try…”
She rolls her eyes and says, “Let me see your phone.”
Begrudgingly, I pull it out of my pocket and place it in her awaiting hand. I watch as her thumbs move quickly over the screen, typing something. And then she waits a few seconds before smiling up at me. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asks before handing my phone back.
Looking down on the screen, I see there’s a series of texts between my father and me. Darby typed out the newest messages, asking so very politely if it would be okay if I stayed after school late to study. Amazingly enough, my father agreed, effectively sealing my fate for tonight.
“Easy-peasy,” Darby says before dragging me down the hallway. “First period is gonna start soon. You better put your stuff away.”
Stopping in front of my assigned locker, I put in my lock combination and open the door. Then, I take out what I need from my backpack before shoving the rest inside.
“See you at lunch?” Darby asks.
“S-s-s-see you at lunch,” I agree.
As I watch her walk away, I feel a kind of sadness overwhelming me. Her reaction to my question earlier doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t like the fact that Darby is keeping things from me about her stepbrother. But it’s not like I don’t have secrets of my own. Normally, I tell Darby everything. But I’ve been keeping the secret of my arranged marriage under wraps, hoping that it will simply just dissolve and that I won’t have to deal with it or Dimitri in the future.
After the contract was signed two years ago, I haven’t so much as seen a glimpse of Dimitri or the Sokolov family. It was like they had vanished into thin air. I overheard Papà saying one night that the family had moved out of state to control one of his newer territories, and I have to admit it’s been nice over the past two years not focusing on my future marriage and just living in the present.
And right now, high school is my main focus. I just need to get through four more years, and then I’ll hopefully be off to a good college. Maybe I can even earn a degree and start a career that I love. And perhaps Dimitri will change his mind about wanting to marry by then and want to make some other girl miserable. I hold on to that hope like my life depends on it. And I guess, in a way, it really does. Because the moment I would say “I do” to Dimitri, my life would truly be over.
CHAPTER TWO
Savina
THE FIRST DAYof school goes by in a blur. There’s a lot of memorization involved, something that I’m, fortunately, really great at. I think I have a good feel for the layout of the school and that, by this time tomorrow, I will know where everything is without having to ask and nervously stuttering in front of my classmates and the staff.
Even though everyone should be acting more like adults in high school, I have a feeling I’ll still get bullied over my speech impediment. What really sucks is that I won’t have Darby there to back me up or protect me. I know I need to stand up for myself, but it’s hard sometimes considering I’ve been bullied my whole life in school and at home as well by own stepmother. My brain is just wired to stand down and take the abuse, and I hate that about myself. I wish I had more of a backbone. I wish I was more like Darby.
Speaking of the devil…Darby comes running around the corner tomy locker. “Get your shit. We have a fight to go to,” she says with a toothy grin. She types on her phone and says, “I’m ordering us an Uber. No way I’m walking in these.”
I glance down at her black combat boots. I’m surprised she wasn’t sent home immediately for wearing them. The school policy is that we’re allowed to wear closed-toe, dress-style shoes in neutral colors. But Darby is always pushing the envelope. I mean, at this point, I would be surprised to see hernotbreaking the rules.
We wait in front of the school for a while until a car pulls up. The Uber driver then takes us downtown and drops us off in an overgrown parking lot. As the car pulls away, leaving us alone in the deserted area, I ask Darby, “Uh, are you sure this is the place?”
“Yep,” she says confidently, so I trust her.
We walk a narrow trail through high weeds and brush until we come to a clearing. The dark, murky water gurgles along the jagged shore, which is comprised of large rocks, submerged concrete and debris. Rusted metal fragments litter the area as we carefully walk along, trying to avoid any tripping hazards on the way.
“The entrance is over here,” Darby says as I follow her.
We squeeze through a rusted grate and into an abandoned subway tunnel. We walk past the colorful graffiti-scrawled concrete walls and down a stairwell that isn’t supposed to lead anywhere. The entrance is narrow, and we have to duck under the crumbling concrete ceiling. I’m not claustrophobic, but I know that Darby is. I can hear her breathing beginning to become labored as we go through the tight channel.
“You g-g-g-good?” I ask her nervously.
She nods but doesn’t actually say one way or the other. The only thing she does is walk faster as I desperately try to keep up.
Eventually, the tunnel we’re in opens up into a large cave. The walls are jagged, carved by time and neglect. The air is heavy and smells of sweat, mildew and the sharp, coppery scent of blood. Someone must have dragged in generators, because I can hear the consistent mechanical humming in the distance. Water drips fromexposed pipes above, catching slivers of light from the bare bulbs hanging on the ceiling.
A large crowd is dispersed throughout the cave. I recognize a lot of our classmates, still in their school uniforms. But there are adults here too, and I can see them passing around money as they place their bets on the fighters.
The fighting ring itself is primitive. It’s just a circle of dirt ringed by a faint chalk outline. I don’t know what the rules are for the fights, but I assume there are none, given where we are right now. I can’t imagine there’s a ref or anything either to keep everything in order. No, this place is definitely givingdisorderlyvibes.
Suddenly, LED floodlights flicker on, casting sharp shadows around the cave as people begin to move in closer to the makeshift ring. An older man steps into the middle of the ring with a megaphone. “There will be three fights tonight,” he announces, his voice echoing throughout the cave. “The rules are simple. There are no rules!” he says, and the crowd goes crazy in appreciation. “The fights go until someone taps out. And the last fight of the night is between The Executioner and The Destroyer. Place your bets, ladies and gents,” he calls out.
People press in shoulder-to-shoulder, shouting last-minute bets as their voices ricochet off the wet concrete walls. Darby and I stay towards the back of the crowd, having no interest in getting up close and personal to the people here or the fighting that’s going to inevitably happen in that small ring.
“Oh, there they are!” Darby hisses as she points to the right of us.
