He’s the oldest one. The one who ran the whole sick operation. The one they say finished Senu.
So I’m not done.
I jerk my head up. Joining Senu will have to wait until I get my hands on that bastard. I need to reach him. He’s the boss, the heart of their illegal porn ring.
I tighten my grip on the rifle just as police sirens slice through the air. I curse under my breath. You can have me, but not yet.
Tanner, I’m coming for you.
I glance around and bolt left, toward the overgrown property next door. The neighbors moved out years ago, driven away by the noise. I crash through the bushes, branches snapping and scratching at me, and swear as I realize I’m being sloppy. I skirt the building and am about to jump the next fence when a voice shouts,
"Freeze! Hands up! Drop the weapon!"
Two cops step out from behind the bushes.
Fuck. No. Too soon! Senu’s killer is still out there. I tighten my fingers on the rifle, and then pain explodes in my shoulder, my body jerking hard.
A taser.
My muscles lock up, and I slam into the ground.
Everything goes dark.
PROLOGUE - ELIANO
How do you make a fight look like you are trying hard to win while still losing? Well, I have had years to practice that, and I have that part down pretty well by now.
A feint, a strike, a low kick.
Gabriel slips off the line. I try a flying knee. It does not land, I make sure of it. He counters and misses. The blow slides from my jaw down to my shoulder, but not enough to rattle me. I back up against the cage wall, reassessing the situation.
Again. A flurry of punches, and I leave myself open. It could pass as getting carried away in the heat of the fight. But that is not what it is. Gabriel takes advantage and throws another punch.
Except it is weak. Too weak. Maybe he did not expect my textbook mistake?
Ugh, I hate all this pretending!
It is not that I fake losing one-hundred percent.
I know very well that if I lose completely, my uncle, Anzo, will catch on to the plan Ennio worked out for me. A game of appearances.
Another feint, a pretend dodge. I bait him and leave myself open again.
Damn it. Gabriel still does not take it!
Come on, man. One of these moments you have to hit me properly so I can finally go down.
Anzo has to see it with his own eyes, has to believe that I am not talented enough, that I need more training, more sparring, and the gaps between my fights get longer. That plan has worked for years. The sixth year of this charade has already started for me.
My opponent tonight is a title contender in my weight class, Gabriel Nolan, my age.
Gabriel is doing great in the rankings. He is insanely fast, and his ability to avoid punches borders on the supernatural. Strangely enough, his legendary speed does not show up tonight.
I sway lightly from side to side and fake a spinning kick, but I make it slow on purpose. Gabriel should not be able to ignore an opening like that, and yet I cannot believe it. He does not take it! He does not catch my leg.
What is going on with him tonight?
Why is he so off? I am handing him every possible opportunity to beat me on a silver platter.
