Roxie, please understand,I beg her silently and toss up a half prayer-half hope that I’ll survive this with my life intact in order to explain.
I haven’t lost a fight yet, and I definitely don’t plan on starting tonight.
Mickey’s eyes are trained on me as both of his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes fill with a sick delight. The crowd starts to cheer and boo, alerting me that my opponent has arrived. Normally, they’re already standing on the other side of the ring when the fight starts, so I’m even more on edge.
Something is really wrong.
The crowd gets louder and starts to part as my opponent gets closer. I strain to see who it is over the crowd, but whomever it is is shorter than I am.
“Oh my god,ai dios mio,”I hear Mario gasp in agony and falls to his knees.
“And now the show can really begin,” Mickey says with a humorless laugh. “You both owe me a debt. Now we see who pays it off and who dies trying.”
“What are you a fucking Disney villian?” I roll my eyes and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it on the ground. “It’s damn ironic seeing as you’re named after the mouse.”
Mickey’s nostrils flare in anger and I try my best not to smirk, but I can’t help it. I got him with that one. One last fucking dig.
It’s probably not smart to piss him off even more, but I throw my hands out in a ‘what are you going to do about it’ way and jump in place to keep my muscles warm.
The crowd screams get even louder and the Ringmaster’s sound equipment gives feedback. Whincing, I look over in annoyance before my breath catches in my throat.
No.
I see a distinctive hairstyle in the sea of heads. Half white blonde, half-black, braided in boxer braids tight to the scalp.
No. No, no, no, no.
My heart beats faster as I drink her in, eyes widening in terror.
This is what he meant. This is what he wanted.
Roxie and I…to fight each other.
“No,” I say out loud, turning angrily towards Mickey. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I rush him, grabbing him by the shirt, not caring in the slightest about making things worse. “I should kill you.”
“You won’t,” Mickey laughs, rolling his eyes. Gripping his shirt tighter, I start to lift the son-of-a-bitch up so he has to stretch out not to look like a fucking toddler. My knuckles turn white as I pull him higher.
My whole body feels like it’s on fire. Hot and ready like an iron ready to strike. I can’t believe this.
“I want to,” I snarl, dropping my voice so that it’s hard to hear over the crowd. Roxie’s eyes widen as she sees me. I can see the exact moment it clicks in her head as to what’s happening. And she starts backing up, a big tall fucker grabs her shoulders, locking her in place.
“I’m not fighting her.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
“Oh ho ho,” Mickey guffaws, shaking his head and knocking my forearms in an attempt to shake me off. Reluctantly, I let him go, only so that I have both hands free to knock out the motherfucker that’s still touching Roxie. “I do believe you will. She’s fighting to keep you from being killed, from that pathetic little tattoo shop from being burned to the ground, from your family from being inmydebt for the rest of their lives. You know with all the shit your family’s gone through since poor olepapidied.” My jaw clenches as he speaks ill of my father. “I’m sure your mom would sell your brothers to me if it meant that her lifestyle wouldn’t change.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I snap, not knowing which part of that I’m more mad at. That I’m forced to fight the love of my life to keep my so-called family and my true brother Asher safe, or that Roxie fucking agreed to it.
Protecting me at the expense of her own life.
I thought we were fucking past that.
Not that I can say much because I’m here doing the same thing.
“I’m not fighting her,” I repeat. My words are strong, hard and solid because there’s absolutely no fucking way I’m hitting the love of my life. No matter what is at stake.
I will not bring harm to her.
I’m so… I’m so fucking defeated that I thought I was protecting her from Mickey. That I thought I was keeping her safe, and all I did was send her right to him.
