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“Fuck you, Lorenzo.” I throw my baseball cap to the ground and rip the hoodie over my head, throwing it off to the side. “You think you’re dangerous, and maybe you are. But you’re a fucking coward, and I’m not intimidated by you.”
“A coward?” he asks, his eyebrows raising.
I raise my fists instead of answering and wait for him to make the first move. If I’m right about him, he won’t fight fair. It’s better to let him strike first and avoid whatever tricks he may have up his sleeve. Or knives.
He huffs and shakes his head in disapproval. “You’re as stupid as your father was.”
My eyes widen and my lips part. All line of thinking flatlines, and my vision goes out of focus.
All I see is red.
I charge toward him, shoulder down and hands out. He must have been expecting a fist because I barrel into him before he has a chance to move. His back slams to the ground, and a whoosh sounds as the air leaves his lungs.
I pull my fist back, and when I go to slam it down on his already bloodied nose, he moves his head at the last second. Knuckles connect with concrete, and explosive pain radiates all the way up my arm.
“Fuck!”
I cradle my broken hand to my chest, smearing blood on the white T-shirt I’m wearing. Lorenzo takes the opportunity to shove me off him, and then rolls on top of me. His fists rain down on my face, and a copper taste fills my mouth.
I lift my legs and twist while using my left hand to force him off me, and I scramble to get the upper hand. Our blood mixes on the concrete, and when I reach for Lorenzo, my hand aiming for his neck, he evades me.
We both jump to our feet and raise our fists. Lorenzo’s eyes are frenzied, and his teeth are bared. This time, he’s the one out of control when he comes at me, a snarl coming from deep in his throat and his fist raised.
I duck, letting him swing through air, and use the momentum to hurl him backward. He crashes into the railing, and I charge toward him. Images of his body going limp as he passes out with my hand around his throat fill my mind and put me in a trance.
My body has too much momentum when I leap to pin him against the railing, and Lorenzo recovers in time to turn sideways and heave me into it.
I sense that something is wrong immediately. My feet lift from the ground, and my stomach connects with the top of the railing. My hands instinctively reach for Lorenzo’s shirt, or anything to keep me from flying over the edge. I manage to get ahold of Lorenzo’s sleeve, but it slides through my grasp microseconds after my fingers graze it.
I’m going to die.
In the two seconds it takes for me to hit the railing and for my body to lift over it, my brain is still able to register this.
My vision blurs as the world spins, and all I can see is light and concrete.
I’m looking at the den, a lion pacing and looking up like he’s anticipating his next meal, when pressure hits my chest. My body halts, and I’m yanked backward by my shirt. I hit the ground hard but am back on my feet a second later.
Lorenzo stands, his eyes flicking between me and the railing, and I notice the bloodlust has left his eyes.
No.
I charge toward him and crack my fist into his cheek, regretting it a moment later when I remember my hand. I howl in pain and lift it up in front of my face, swollen knuckles staring back at me.
“Enough!” Anthony knocks me backward and stands between Lorenzo and me.
Lorenzo is bent over and spits blood on the ground. He stares at me as he stands up straight and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Jesus, Colter, I thought you were coming here to talk.”
“You sent him here?” Lorenzo narrows his eyes at Anthony. “Why?”
Anthony huffs out a breath. “Haven’t you had enough of this?” He takes a few steps back so he can look at us both. “This feud is ridiculous. Stop measuring your dicks and let it go.”
“Let it go?” I ask, a dry laugh barreling out of my throat. “You think I would let what you people didgo?”
I grit my teeth, my frustration rising. When Anthony’s hardened expression softens into one of pity, I almost lose it.
“Your father wasn’t a good man, Colter. I’m sorry.”