Page 13

“No clan, no entry,” he snarls. I drop my hands closer to my legs and the weapons that rest there.

“Ask your boss, boy, before you make a fool of yourself,” I say politely. He snorts and steps closer, showing me the knife strapped to his stomach.

“No clan, no entry.” He licks his lips “You thick? Maybe you’re just desperate for a master, ey,” he cackles. I just stare at him and wait for him to finish.

“Ask him,” I say again, my voice strong and sure, not showing the annoyance building in me. His smile disappears, and he walks straight up to me, towering over me.

“Boss doesn’t give a shit about a twat,” his voice is lower.

He probably thinks it makes him sound deadly.

I slowly shrug out of my jacket. He grabs his knife and my lips twitch.

I make sure he gets a good look at all my weapons before I turn slightly and lift my hair, showing my tattoo.

The other guard steps forward at this, before grunting when he sees it.

He quickly turns away and shouts something to the others on the gate post above.

The kid in front of me still isn’t getting it.

“Get your boss, kid, before you get hurt,” I warn, the purr of violence clear in my voice.

I don’t have time for this shit. He leans forward and spits on my boots.

Did he just...? Everything in me goes still; the quiet that engulfs me when I kill.

I manage to push it down and fake a sigh, looking at the other guard with a bored expression.

Fake it till you make it. I learnt that early on and it’s worked well for me, with the exception of the guys spread out behind me.

I could be terrified, and you wouldn’t know.

Instead, I’m hiding much worse. My reputation won't allow me to accept such an insult, if I let this one slide and it will soon spread from the guards to the fighters, like wildfire, until they see it as weakness.

“He has exactly thirty seconds to get away from me,” I make sure my voice is loud enough to carry to the other guards.

I hear running feet, but I don’t look away from the kid.

He snarls at me and goes to grab me, but I’m no longer in that spot.

Instead, I’m behind him. I tap his shoulder and he spins.

I step back. He steps closer to me, his face growing red as his chest heaves.

“What the fuck is going on?” The shout stops everyone and brings memories I would rather forget rushing to the surface.

Sands below, it's like a trip down memory lane today. I turn, giving the guard my back, showing him how unafraid of him I am. I walk slowly up to Major, eyeing the man who was there through all my days here. Once, we were close, I even used to trust him. I thought he would save me, the childish hope in me clinging to him. Now, doubts and logic that comes with age clouds our strained relationship. It saddens me, but also sets my anger alight. There is so much left unsaid between us. As soon as I won my freedom, I turned my back and slipped away in the night. I didn’t even say goodbye.

His usual suit is in place, making him look like a gangster from one of those old movies, the shirt and pants only showing a few wrinkles; evidence of his rush here.

His hair is greying at the temples and his face has more wrinkles than before.

He must be about forty now. Regret and sadness chase each other in his brown eyes until he drags his gaze from me, flicking over everyone else as if it pains him to watch me.

He waits until I’m in front of him before talking.

“You causing trouble?” He asks, but smiles to show he’s joking.

“Always,” I sigh and decide to at least be polite.

After all, he never let anyone hurt me outside the pit when I was here.

What happened outside his territory he couldn’t control, but in here, he stopped it - to an extent.

He carries on smiling at me, the one he shows the world, reminding me of a shark, then snaps his finger at the other guard and points at the kid.

The guard runs over to him and grabs him, yanking, so he stands next to me.

“You blocking our champ?” He asks. His voice has lost his teasing edge and the kid must be stupid not to hear his death in it. I look at the kid, as his eyes widen. He swivels them from me to Major, his mouth flapping open.

“She’s the champ?” He squeals. I roll my eyes and grab one of my knives. Major watches me as I start to clean my nails with it, beyond bored. I flash my teeth at the kid and wait.

“This is your third infringement,” Major’s voice is casual, as if discussing what to eat.

With a sigh, probably because he hates getting blood on his suit, he pulls his gun.

He and Nan are the only ones I know with them.

Realistically, I know there are more, but you don’t see them around.

Before the kid can say anything, he shoots him point blank in the face.

I get blood splatter on my right arm and face but don’t flinch.

He holsters his gun and looks back at me, ignoring the body.

Guilt flashes in his eyes before he straightens again .

“Sorry ‘bout that, kid. You here for work or pleasure?” He tugs on his sleeves, making them straight as he asks.

The nickname has me gritting my teeth against the old familiarity.

It has my hackles rising and the facade I put on in front of everyone else returns full force. I push the pain at seeing him deep.

“Why can’t it be both?” I wink. He laughs, but it’s strained and he almost flinched at the mask I slid into place. He wipes his face clean, and then turns to the other guard exasperated.

“Get rid of the body. Inform the others the champ is here.” He smiles back at me.

“I’ll see you inside, kid.” He stops, and with the soft smile he saves for me, he lets me see past his facade to the tenderness below.

“I missed you.” He spins on his heel, which is good because I don't know what I would have said. Our relationship is so complicated, I don’t even know where to start.

He walks slowly back into his kingdom. Ignoring the body, I step towards the gates of purgatory, my old home of sorts.

I guess I should feel something about the kid’s death, but it’s just the way the world works.

For three infringements with Major, he has to have raped, killed or started a clan war. Poor kid was destined to die.

“C’mon.” I shout, not bothering to wait for the guys.

You can hear the crowd from here, their drunken blood lust coating every shout.

The path to the pit, which is what the fighting ring is called, is short.

I reach the edge of the crowd and look around for potential problems. The pit used to be an enclosure of some kind.

Major built a rickety circle to contain the fight and the general spectators are pushing against each other to the get to the front.

Tables are dotted here, there and everywhere, with three in the back on a hill, offering the best view.

The higher ups of clans stand or sit where the visitors to the zoo used to watch the animals; I guess we are the animals now.

The steel barrier separates them from us, the way I like it.

I could go and sit up there, Major would love it, but he knows better.

I always sit with the “common folk”, as he says.

I can blend in, and at least I know what to expect from them.

Plus, it’s less likely that I’ll run into anyone from my past.

Satisfied with my surveying, I turn and walk through the crowd with the men hot on my heels and head over to the tables on the hill.

The noise from the fight and cheers from the crowd permeate the air along with the smell of blood, death, and unwashed bodies.

I push my way through to a table high up, and with a snarl and a flashed knife, kick out its inhabitants.

I sniff the jug on the table, and with a shrug, pour myself a glass.

Looking over the crowd again, I notice some usuals.

Some woman is bent over on the next table, her fake moans spurring on the fat bastard fucking her. He ruts on her and with a groan, comes. She rolls her eyes and stands up when he moves away. He slaps her ass and goes back to watching the fight as she prowls for her next prey.

“What the hell is this place?” Drax asks.

They have finally sat down. Drax, Jax and Thorn opposite me with Maxen sitting next to me.

Smart man sits to my right, not blocking the view.

My smile is genuine, but more a baring of teeth.

This place was my home for years. I thought more than once that I would die within these walls.

Yet, I’m comfortable. Call me crazy, most people do.

“Welcome to purgatory, boys. Drink up.” I demonstrate by downing my cup and pouring another. Thorn pours one hesitantly. I watch as he takes a sip then spits it back out in disgust.

“That’s horrible,” he groans. I just laugh, home-brewed spirits aren’t for everyone. They do the job though.

“What, not hell?” Jax asks, looking disgusted at the men near us. My smile disappears, and my face closes down.

“Hell is to the north, and you wouldn't make it out alive.” With that, I turn back to the poor bastard getting the shit beat out of him in the pit. The sand in the pit absorbs his blood as he’s dragged away, and another is thrown in.

The cheers increase, and people start screaming out bets and encouragement.

A man wanders up, a bottle clutched in his hands.

“On the house, not that piss excuse for a spirit for the champion.”

I nod at the man as he puts the full bottle down in front of me. He wanders off through the crowd.

“They call you the champion, why?” Maxen asks.

I laugh bitterly as I answer him. “Because I’m the only one to ever make it out of the pit alive.” They all look from the pit to me and back again. I carry on before they can ask, it’s not like it’s not common knowledge.

“You can win your freedom when you’re a slave, like I was.

The man who owned me threw me in the first time as punishment.

He found it amusing when I won my first fight, and I made him some good money, so he did it again, and again.

He never expected me to live, but I did.

I kept on living, fight after fight. Not even he could argue against my freedom then.

It’s the rules,” I down some of the bottle and refuse to make eye contact with them. I don’t need to see their pity.

“How many did you have to win?” Jax asks, his voice normal and steady. I look into his eyes and he lets me see his emotions. I see no pity, but there is plenty of respect.

“Thirty,” I say solemnly. I hear someone inhale and someone else curses, but I don’t look away from Jax.

“You’re a survivor.” His respect is evident, and it smooths some of my jagged soul.

I nod. “I do what I have to, I always have,” my voice is quiet.

“Not many people could,” Jax takes a drink and I look back to the fight as the screaming gets louder.

I hear them whispering between themselves, but I tune them out, lost to the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting flesh.

It reminds me of my life here. The constant pain, the fear, the determination to never lose. The man I lost along the way.

“Who’s that?” I follow Maxen’s eyes to see he is looking at the balcony. I drag my eyes across until I stop dead in my tracks at the ghost there. Dray, the man I thought I would never see again-and he’s looking straight at me.

“Fuck.”