Page 126 of Crescendo

“Don’t fuckingArnome, Dante,” he snaps. “Don’t treat me like a goddamn idiot, either. This ismyfight.” His voice breaks.

I can’t even look at him. I don’t know what might happen if I do. I might punch him. He might hit back harder.

So I grit my teeth and flex my fists, and I think of Mack. “That bastard’s had this coming a long time.” I glance over to see Arno nod.

“Damn right he has. He never got over the fact that Dino chose you. Not him. Not even me.You.There were men that he’d run with for decades who didn’t earn the same honor.”

“Don’t make it something that it wasn’t,” I hiss, shaking my head. “Dino didn’t do sentimental. He picked me because I was the fucker who shouted back ‘how high’ when he said ‘jump.’” I don’t know if I’m ashamed of that though. If Dino said “jump,” there was always a fucking good reason to leap.

“He picked you because he saw himself in you,” Arno says. “‘Dante, the little shit with claws.’” He tries and fails to mimic the man’s thick Irish accent. “It’s true, ya know. You are the most like him, and it affects the people around you the same as it did him.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean—”

“Don’t you ever wonderwhyEspi hates you so much?” he starts, cutting me off. “It’s the same fucking reason why I hated Dino.”

“Why’s that, then?” I can’t ignore the unease in my voice.

Arno rarely mentions Dino in any context outside of the past. Hell, even before I went to prison, he rarely referred to the man as his father.

“Espi hates you because hecan’tchange you. You are who you are. No matter how hard he tries or whatever reasons he has to, he just can’t blame you for being the only way you know how to be, and he hateshimselfmore for wanting you to change. He won’t admit it, but Espi hates you because it’s the only fucking way he can keep from hating himself.” Arno takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. “Look, Dino had his own battles. You’ve had yours. This one ismine.”

When I turn to face him, the man staring back is the old bastard I remember before grief wore him down and pain left him jagged. Arnold Mackenzie, who was forced to beg for scraps in his father’s own gang—and nobody better fucking forget it.

“This is my fight,” I say, watching his jaw clench.“Danny—she killed that fucker. His blood is on my hands.” I still can’t believethat. The little lamb grew fangs. She taught herself how to bite back hard—and I saw it in her eyes; the little bitch had relished in it.

But, for whatever reason, Arno’s determined to take credit for her kill. “I only came here...I only came to say goodbye,” he says over his shoulder, facing the doorway again. “Or...whatever.” He starts forward, but I grab his arm before he can take off.

“When?”

“When else?” he snaps, shrugging my hand away. “Mack gave me the ‘honor’ of choosing the time. I chose now. It’s better than drawing it out...” He breaks off once he sees the figure leaning against the door to the pit up ahead.

Mack must have laid off the alcohol last night to be up this fucking early—though I don’t think Arno can say the same. He’ll have to be twice as fast against a well-rested opponent. Twice as ruthless.

“I’ve got your back,” I say.

Still walking, he looks over his shoulder, and something crosses his expression but disappears before I can name it—and it’s a good fucking thing it does. Anything but hate is a liability in Mack’s Kennel. Knowing that, Arno remains silent as he leads the way to the entrance, where Mack’s already waiting, his cocky grin firmly in place.

“How did I have a feeling that the puppy would go running right to the cat?” he wonders, rubbing his chin.

“Fuck you,” Arno says.

But I meet Mack’s gaze headon and flash a mocking smile of my own. It’s all teeth, and the fucker knows a threat when he senses it. He opens his stance.

“Arno didn’t ask me for shit,” I admit. “But...if you want to fight anyone, it’s going to be me.”

“Dante.” Arno grinds my name between his teeth. “Stay the fuck out of this—”

“Arno can have the winner,” I say over him, my gaze squarely on Mack. “But you fight me first.”

If anything, Mack smiles wider as he turns and opens the door to the pit, instantly rousing the dogs inside. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Dante

Mack doesn’t stackthe audience today. Just a carefully chosen few are here to witness his victory. I spot Darcy among them, her gray eyes watching and wary.

The bastard wants to repeat history, apparently. The setup is similar to our last match before I got shipped off to prison—back when Mack challenged me for the crown Dino had shoved onto my head by taking a bullet to the brain and tossing his “kingdom” into turmoil.