I know it’s Edge from how intensely he scans the crowd. Rage brews behind those gray eyes. They bore into every soul surrounding the cage.
Who or what is he looking for?
Before Edge can locate what or who he’s looking for, he focuses on his opponent. If I didn’t know him as I do, I would have missed the almost imperceptible tells of his uneasiness. The center of the cage is the last place he wants to be. Reluctantly renewing his resolve, he walks right up to face off with Python.
The announcer’s words battle to be heard above the blood pounding in my ears. His mouth moves as he bellows into the microphone in his hand, but I can barely hear a syllable with the roaring in my head. I’ve been to enough of these that I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know he’s doing his job, announcing the two men in the cage.
“Fighting against Python is Viper!”
The crowd erupts.
The two fighters face each other as the ref goes over the rules.Rules. What a joke.Maybe tonight he won’t turn a blind eye. They nod to each other, and then both back away, retreating to opposite sides of the cage.
The million thoughts and feelings that have clouded my judgment for the past couple of months surface. I’ve put so much on the line. The chances I took, the feelings I let develop and emerge, the way I couldn’t control myself with him. Staying in control was the only thing I had to do, yet I failed miserably. Do I feel relief Edge didn’t kill my dad?
Yes!
Edge isn’t Python. Edge isn’t the one who killed my father. Relief is like a living thing as the repetitive thought fills me with reassurance. Just yesterday, it was me he wanted. He held me in his arms and told me as much.I only want you.
But fuck! What if Edge had turned out to be the killer? There’s still a very good chance he had something to do with getting my father killed. I shove down the possibility and take another deep breath.
“Edge didn’t kill my dad. Edge didn’t kill my dad. Edge didn’t kill my dad,” I repeat over and over until the tension begins to melt away.
Now that I have my answer, I have no reason to stay. Surveying the room, I locate the exit and start to climb down again. Just as I’m about to drop to the ground, I pause. I should leave. Staying should be the last thing I want to do. But I can’t leave knowing Edge is in the cage with a murderer.
“Holy fucking shit! This can’t be happening—again.” It’s like the threat just fell from the fucking sky.
I gingerly ease back onto the pallets and pull my legs into my chest. Resting my forehead on my knees, I lift my mask just enough to uncover my mouth and nose, then drag in long, deepbreaths. The slamming of my heart against my ribs begins to slow. I raise my head, sliding the mask back into place.
Feeling the need to be wrapped in a cocoon of comfort and safety, I wrap my arms around myself and nervously wait for the bell to signal the start of the first round. It’s the best I can do in this fucked-up situation. The last thing I want to do is watch them beat the shit out of each other. But there’s no way I’ll be able to peel my gaze away from them.
The bell signals the start of the first round. Numbness overtakes me as the roar of the crowd goes ballistic. Once again, I’m rooted in place. I can’t move or even scream. Another person I care about is about to face off with a murderer.
Edge’s familiar stormy gray eyes are laser-focused on Python. Until now, his tattoo has been a mystery. I have a full view of it when he turns to the side. It’s beautiful. From the top of his ribs to his hip bone is an inked black feral snake intertwined with a fierce Chinese dragon.
Doing my best to turn off all emotions, I try to switch to my fighter brain. Python riles the crowd by shuffling back and forth on the balls of his feet as he pounds his chest. Edge takes the opposite approach. His arms hang limply at his sides. His usual confident demeanor is a hundredfold as he studies his opponent. Both have similar heights and builds, but Edge’s body is more defined. They’re both agile and strong.
Python makes the first move. His left fist misses Edge’s face by a breath. Edge retaliates quickly, not giving Python the time to set up for another strike, slamming a sloppy punch across Python’s jaw. They’re evenly matched. But the more I watch, the more I see that something seems off. Edge is faster and more precise, his footing is more versatile and sure, and his punches, although powerful, aren’t as direct as Python’s. It’s almost as if Edge is coddling Python. By the boos coming from the crowd, they see the same thing.
Their moves are too similar, which is interesting and unusual. Most fighters have different techniques. They’re known for certain moves or takedowns. The same sensei likely trained these two fighters. I’ve seen firsthand what Python is capable of, and Edge should try to take him down as fast as possible. Python only needs to get the nod, and he turns into a killing machine. My nightmare is morphing into a horrific reality. I press my hands together and whisper a prayer to the universe.
Then, like a switch has been flipped, Edge doesn’t hesitate for another second. He punches Python with an uppercut to his face. It’s fast, forceful, and with perfect precision. Python falls back against the fencing. Edge wraps his arms around his waist and tackles him to the ground. They each get in a couple of kicks and punches before Edge can wrap his arm around Python’s throat. He spins so Python’s back is to his front. Python turns his head so his airway is in the crease of Edge’s elbow. The chokehold is so tight, the thin stream of air he’s getting won’t be able to sustain him for long. The jiu-jitsu submission Edge has Python in is a favorite of the crowd.
I lift my leg and rest my chin on my knee. The pallets creak beneath me. My nerves are heating my body to dangerous levels. I’m dying to take off my sweatshirt, but I don’t dare. I glance at Edge one more time.
For a split second, his concentration breaks from Python. I follow his gaze to the man in the suit just outside the cage. Is that who he was looking for earlier? The man nods at Edge, giving him some sort of signal. I count in my head the number of seconds going by. Eyes glued to the fucked-up scene in front of me, I wonder if the nod means the same command that Python was given to kill my dad. When I reach ten, Edge tightens his hold on Python.
As my eyes lock onto Edge, the happiness of knowing he’s innocent of murder doesn’t completely diminish. Fear still taintsmy suspicion with the fact that he’s a major player of Venom. I just witnessed how connected he is when he took the command from the guy in the expensive suit. He and Python may be adversaries on that stage, but they are on the same team, Venom.
If Edge were the one in the cage with my father, he would have taken the order and been the one to kill him just as easily as Python did.I know this with every fiber of my being.
I wanted to believe he truly cared about me. Fuck, in some demented way, I still do. What he told me might be true. I really may be all he wants. But I’m not sure any of that matters now. He’s shown me tonight who he truly is: Viper, a fighter who fights without honor and takes orders from bloodthirsty, greedy men.
I jump down from the pallets with disgust swirling in my gut. Swallowing down the nausea, I make my way to the exit. The action in the cage has the crowd’s full attention. Just before I touch the door handle, someone grabs my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction. I bend down, using my body weight to strain against them. They grab my other arm. I kick out my leg to trip them, but they’re ready for the move.
“Let me go!”
“Stop fighting me,” says a deep voice.
