Page 35 of Death Kiss

Fifty thousand is an insane amount for them to offer. They live a fairly simple life, powered but giving and loving. But I can’t be the one taking advantage of them. It’s different for Ellie; she’s theirs. Through blood.

‘Are you sure you guys are okay?’ she asks, reaching up and cradling my scarred cheek.

‘We’re fine.’

The look she gives me tells me she’s not going to believe that.

Sighing, I smile. ‘Things are just a lot right now. The house. No work. But what goes down has to come up.’

It’s a lie we tell ourselves to feel better, because life can absolutely go down and down and down until you find yourself in prison or hell. And I don’t think I can have Kat in either place, so it’s not an option.

Sandra picks up the cheesecake that’s at the base of the fridge before bumping it shut with her hip. ‘Come on.’

‘One minute,’ I say.

There’s only one option to fix the corpses-in-the-well stress.

My phone feels like a hot coal in my hand as I scroll to the one contact I shouldn’t. Phil.

Kat will be furious if I fight. And she’ll pluck me from the grave just to kill my ass again if I lose.

Closing my eyes, I struggle with the choice. Going through with it means lying to Kat. Possibly death, but that’s not nearly as scary as betraying my girl.

Acrid taste hits the back of my throat as I type.

ME: What would it take to win £300k?

The reply comes before I can pocket my phone.

PHIL: It’s been a while. I thought you might have been working elsewhere and got yourself killed.

ME: Is that illegal?

PHIL: It’s all fucking illegal, smart arse. But I’d be pissed if I didn’t make a dime from it.

ME: As if you’d bet on me to lose.

PHIL: Everyone loses eventually, kid.

Just one more fight. It’s all I need.

PHIL: You’d need to participate in a bowl. Next one’s in two weeks. Twenty guys. The last one standing takes the lot.

Twenty? Fuck. The bowl is terrifying enough at eight guys. But twenty of us thrown into the curved dip in the floor, which gradually gets filled with the blood of felled competitors until there are only two guys left. Facing each other like mud wrestlers, but in the scarlet death of the men who have gone before.

Gladiatorial.

I’m going to break Kat’s heart either way, but at least I can get her house for her. If I win. And if I die, I guess I’ll know no different. Maybe the purpose of my life’s been to do this for her. To get six months of bliss before I tainted us too much with this vengeance scheme to protect her.

Freddie’s sniffing around. There were no more mirrors to smash when I found out he’d been at the pub. I’d swallowed down the pain, but doing so is rotting me from the inside.

I’ll do it for her.

And if I live, I’ll spend forever grovelling for her forgiveness.

A glimmer of hope comes when I realise I can provide her with a failsafe. I can take out life insurance on me, and if I’m found dead, she can use the money to buy the house.

I don’t need to kill twenty men. I need to stay out of the way and let them kill each other. Feint and work on one guy while they exhaust each other. The only one I have to kill, theoretically, is the last man other than me.