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“You’re short now. First, for talking to me like you got a right to talk to me like that. Second, because you lied. You know this cunt. Now. Who. Is. He?”
“How short?” I ask with a glare, refusing to back down.
“Three.”
“I’ll fight.”
Benson leans forward, staring at me with interest. “You’d rather fight than tell me?”
“I’d rather kick someone’s ass than stand here and breathe the same oxygen you do!” I hiss.
He raises his hand, but I don’t flinch.
“You got it, babe. Get down there and fight for the neighbours you love so much. You can’t save them forever.”
The tension in him is gone, but I know he’s not going to let this go.
I’m escorted down to his ring, which is just the basement. He’s renovated it into an illegal club, and, I have to admit, it looks pretty good. But, in the middle, where one might find a dance square, is a roped off area that is marked with the blood of previous fights. A whole heap of it is mine.
I’ve only just recovered from the last fight. I don’t want to do this. Why do I have to be the one to do this?
I focus my mind. Ruthlessly pushing all thoughts out but one. I have to win.
I ignore the people catcalling me. I ignore the flashes of familiar faces in the crowd, but I do mark them. Anyone who is here supporting this piece of shit is an enemy of mine.
I take off my top, leaving myself in a black sports bra and jeans. It won’t help much, but they’ll have less to grab. I fix my hair into a bun, making sure it won’t come loose.
Benson is talking. No doubt blowing smoke up everyone’s ass and trying to make this fight exciting. I don’t care.
I look at the other corner, waiting to see who will come up.
It takes a few minutes, but when she does, I feel sick. Dezzie is nineteen years old, and she’s not a fighter. She’s just a scared girl.
I summon all the arrogance I own, everything that will piss Benson off and make him redirect his rage onto me.
I put my hand on my hip and turn to Benson. “Really?”
“Hey, if you can’t do it, we can add it to your tab.”
I growl and turn back to Dezzie, frantically trying to find my way out of this. If you go easy, they break bones after the match. If you try to throw it, you’ll be lucky to walk away with your life. I grit my teeth.
I’m going to have to hurt that girl. I really don’t want to do that. There has to be another way.
I turn back to Benson, letting a smile curl my lips. “Sure, boss. Think I can knock her out in one hit?”
He narrows his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter to me, but you agreed to three. If I win, we’re even. It’s not my fault if it’s a bad show.”
The crowd knows me, so when I wave my arms, they cheer. I glance back at the boss. The edges of a huge red tattoo on his chest are visible.
“What’s it gonna be?”
“Anchor, you’re up. Give this bitch the beating she’s begging for. But do not kill her.”
Ah, shit. This is going to hurt. Better me than Dezzie. She gives me a wild-eyed look with tears streaming down her face as she’s roughly escorted out of the club.
I can’t beat Anchor, but it will make for a good show. We will beat on each other, but, eventually, he’ll take me out. He’s the only one of Benson's that I haven’t found the weakness of yet.