“Bonsoir, Julian,” he says in a greeting.
“Hey, Luce,” I reply, distracted by my phone. Archer’s location is a small blue dot on a map, and as I zoom in to see where he could be, panic fills my bloodstream. It’s not a great part of town, and the Métro station he seems to be walking toward is abandoned.
“Can you take me here?” I ask, showing Lucien the screen.
He knits his brows together in concern. “Êtes-vous certain de vouloir aller là, monsieur?”
“I’m sure. But first, take me to whatever hotel you dropped my girlfriend off at last night.”
With that, he puts the car into drive and takes off.
Rule #35: Winning a fight against a friend isn’t winning.
Archer
If Rex doesn’t want to pick up the phone, that’s fine. I’llfind a fight myself. I don’t need him. And I’m sure as fuck not going to sit around in my apartment another night and cry alone over a failed relationship.
Sooner or later, I knew I’d end up back here. What really pisses me off is that if Julian had been willing to risk even a little for us, we could have gotten her back. She only put a crack in the infrastructure—he burned it to the ground.
Last night was unbearable. I got absolutely wasted alone in my apartment and tried to sleep the day away, but they haunted my dreams, making my sleep restless. But I won’t be doing that again. I’m going to find a fight and maybe find some semblance of who I used to be before they changed everything about me.
Right now, I can’t bear to think about tomorrow or any day after that. Right now, I need to fucking punch something. I need to feel a sick right hook across my jaw to numb the pain. I need a distraction.
As I walk angrily down the streets, I pull up some of thefew contacts I have in the fighting circle. No one ever gives out location or time information to just anyone, and it’s early, but I managed to find one thanks to an old friend in my phone.
So I quickly hail a cab and give him my destination. It’s possible I can scrape together a fight of my own with a willing opponent. These guys are never satisfied with just one anyway. They want to bet their winnings before they even get a chance to put them in their pockets.
I turn my phone on silent and ignore it. Staring out the window as we drive across town, I replay the entire thing in my head for the hundredth time. I’m mad at Freya for trying to run, but I’m mad at Julian even more.
With all the faith I put in them, they couldn’t return the favor. He thinks he was protecting himself, but what about me? If breaking my heart was his source of protection, was it ever truly love?
I know in my heart it was. I know deep down that he loves me. He’s just a stubborn jackass who doesn’t know what’s good for him.
Anger brews inside me as I remember the argument. Then for a brief moment, I consider that I should perhaps just turn around. I could march right up to his apartment and demand that he stop throwing away something good. I’ll convince him that we could restore the amazing fucking thing we had.
No. It’s too late for that.
When the cab drops me out in front of the old station entrance, I pay him in a rush and climb out. The late summer air is cool, and I don’t have a jacket, so I shove my hands in my pockets and jog toward the Métro.
The cheers and yells echo through the dingy space as I descend the stairs and find the crowd of guys huddled around two fighters who are wrestling on the ground. The one on top is laying one fist after another into the other guy’s nose until finally the guy on the ground goes limp and manages to tap out before going unconscious.
I grimace at the gruesomeness of it. It’s been so long, I guess I’ve been sensitized to the violence. Just as the crowd all cheer and boo at the outcome of the fight, one of them recognizes me.
“It’s Chopper!” the stranger calls.
Everyone turns my way.
I glance across the crowd and lock eyes with the one person I came here hoping to see. Rex glares at me as if he’d like to kick my ass. There’s not an ounce of excitement in his eyes. There are, however, some extra scars and some blood on his lip.
“Twenty euros on Chopper!” another guy shouts as he shakes my shoulder.
“Who is he fighting?”
“Fifty on Chopper!”
“I don’t have an opponent,” I tell the guys around me. “Find me someone to fight.”
“I’ll fight you.” Rex’s voice echoes painfully around the dirty walls of the abandoned station.
