“Come. I want to show you something.”
We head up the steps and my heart hammers inside me as he raps on the smart, polished door that opens a mere crack.
“Arthur says hi.”
Joseph merely says, and the door opens wider, the person behind it obscured behind the open door.
“What’s…” I make to speak but am silenced by Joseph’s dark glare, and as we enter the house, I’m struck by how clean it is. White walls, bright lights, and white marble floors.
“Where are we?”
My voice is low, and Joseph whispers, “Hell, angel. Let’s take a walk around the pit of hell just for the fun of it.”
He heads toward a double door, and as soon as it opens, I’m shocked by the noise. I almost want to put my hands over my ears as loud jeering, angry shouts, and the smell of sweat and danger permeate the air.
Joseph grips my hand tightly and pushes through the crowd; various grunts of annoyance quickly silenced when they see who it is.
Two men are fighting in a boxing ring, stripped to the waist and covered in blood. It’s a gruesome scene, especially as I notice the crowd cheering with every punch landed.
My heart stills when I note the blades in the hands of the fighters.
“What the hell?” I gasp as one lunges forward and slashes a huge gash in the side of his opponent, and the blood spills like an open faucet onto the ground below. Screams of pain mix with cheers as he staggers over to the ropes, his opponent close behind him, preparing to slice another pound of flesh.
“Joseph.”
I grip his arm, tears falling down my face as he turns to me with a cold smile. “Watch.”
He grips my face and forces my attention back to the ring. The opponent on the ropes sidesteps and turns, stabbing his opponent in the gut. The surprise on the face of the man as he stares at the blade sticking in his organs causes me to sob, and as he falls to his knees, two men step inside with a syringe and proceed to help him. The man who stabbed him parades around the ring with his arms held high in victory as money rains down on him as his reward.
I stare in horror as the scene quickly changes as one man exits in triumph and the other is on a stretcher.
A loud voice booms from a hidden microphone.
“Place your bets for the next one. You have five minutes. Announcing Harry Bennigan and Christoff Bulgari.”
Pandemonium breaks out as the audience scrambles to place their bets, with four men positioned in the corners of the room and Joseph says above the noise.
“This is the survival of the fittest, angel. No rules, just reward or possibly death.”
“But it’s illegal, surely.”
He shrugs. “You are really using that as a reason why it shouldn’t be allowed. Wake up, princess, life is cruel, and it’s kill or be killed.”
He pulls me from the room, and as the door closes behind us, the noise falls to silence, and only my beating heart disturbs the peace.
“Come.”
Rather than heading to the front door, he pulls me toward the grand staircase. Much the same as the one in his house and Malik’s.
“What next?” I’m almost fearful to ask, and he chuckles softly.
“You’ll see.”
We turn right at the top of the stairs that split in two directions, and as he turns the handle of the first door we come to, I note a darkened room with wood paneling. There’s a tense atmosphere inside as four men sit at a table, huge amounts of money piled on the table in front of them, security guarding them from behind. They don’t even look up as we peer over their shoulders as they puff on cigars, whiskey glinting in the glasses beside them.
Their concentration isn’t broken as they play their hand, and as the last card is revealed, I notice the sweat drip down one man’s face as he groans before pushing his huge stack of notes into the center. He pushes back from the table and loosens his collar, desolation rolling off him as he stumbles from the room. The remaining three men merely deal another hand as one slides the huge tower of cash toward him.
Joseph pulls me outside and says, almost in conversation. “Gambling is a profitable business if you know your trade.”
