My mind spun faster than I could speak. Everything was making sense. He was pulling his throws, loosening his stance for a reason. Someone told him to, and a reward would be bigger than anything else. It explained the way he was twitchy, always looking over his shoulder. He was being a bigger man, fighting between proving his worth with winning or honoring a deal that would diminish the work he put in the gym.
A new kind of emotion surged through my body. Vengeance.
“Why didn’t you? Knowing that you would be spared?”
“You,” he said. “You knew that it wasn’t me, and I played along that it was just nerves and second guessing myself. But you inspired me to fight and I guess at that moment, I chose my pride over money. They were there. When I took out their fighter, I couldn’t stand to see what would happen next. They had disappeared and I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for my consequences.” He dropped his head again, ashamed of the truth.
He kept rambling on. “Shooter, I never meant for it to get this way and bring it into the gym or at least the club. My own fucking problems and I couldn’t own up to it.”
“That’s why you stopped coming to the gym and avoiding phone calls.”
“I couldn’t face y’all.”
I was careful before I grasped his shoulder, bringing his attention back to me. “It don’t matter what it was, I failed you. You didn’t come to me. Or Stray or Hank. I told you we’d be there. We all have been in a time where we needed someone and didn’t have that person.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Dillon sniffed. “I’m done for, I know what the doctors said. A long ass recovery and possible rehab. My muscles aren’t going to be the same.”
“And we’ll be there to help.”
“I won’t be able to work as much and college, fuck, my old man is going to love the fact that I failed. And then I’ll be trapped… again.” His heart rate was increasing as his mind started to depict the worst case scenarios.
“You won’t be going back there. Just give us time, I’ll talk to Hound, you’re a good kid,” I tried to reassure him.
He groaned, holding back the tears from all that was unraveling. He tossed his head back. “I should have never said yes to that Santo fucker.”
Realization sparked. “Santo?”
“Dude in a suit, a part of a family. Santo or Santa,” Dillon grumbled.
“De Santo?” Fucking hell, it was deeper than we thought.
He nodded.
“Kid, it’s not your fault. They were here before you made that deal,” I said. Standing up before I ripped apart the chair.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Later. Just rest, we’ll get you out of here.” I sighed before pulling out my phone and messaging the board, signaling them that we had more fuel to add to this fire.
I stormed out of the room, walking through the hall, rushing through to find the exit. My blood was boiling. The demon inside giddy as fuck, itching to wreck havoc. In a flash, I waited for the elevators, frantically pressing the button thinking that it will make it come faster.
“Shooter,” a voice called out. I ignored it.
“Shooter,” it called again.
I slammed the button harder and harder. My breath came in rough exhales. I couldn’t see clearly, everything around me blurred into one picture.
A hand brushed atop my shoulder. I whirled around in a fury, clutching the neck of someone. Blinded by hatred I didn’t see, but felt the fast pulse of the person in my hands. The same voice called out, “Shooter.”
Emotions built up, pushing through me. They called again. “River.Come back to me.”
River. Like a spell that broke, one word and a single touch, settled me. Delicate touches to my cheek pulled my focus. I blinked, groaning that there was a piece still holding on.
“That’s it. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” she called out.
When I came to, Amelia's sweet face and, pleading sorrowful eyes stared into my soul. My eyes followed my hand that was wrapped around her throat.
I lost it. I lost sight of everything. I unclenched my hand, scuffling back.
