Movement in the center of the ring grips my attention. Python’s balled fist is cocked and ready. It’s too late.
I’m too late.
I scream as his fist slams into my dad’s face. Again and again, he repeats the drone-like beating while the ref stands over them and does nothing. I scream until my throat is raw and the taste of metal coats the inside of my mouth. No one hears them, though. Nothing can be heard over the crowd chanting, “Finish him!”
The collective demand shoots straight to the center of my chest. I press my hand over my heart, trying to calm its fierce pounding. It’s no use. Caught up in the glorified frenzy, they have no idea what they’re begging for. To them, my father is a plaything, an actor in their game. He’s not a man with a daughter and a wife, someone who has an actual life. Begging for death would be the last thing they would be doing if it were someone they loved under the hammer of Python’s fist.
A gunshot goes off in the warehouse, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls. Panic becomes a living thing as everyone crouches, waiting for another shot. Heavy breathing and panting are the only noises for several seconds. Then, as if the entire warehouse counted to five to move, all hell breaks loose. The room begins to spin.
In a whirlwind,I’mswept away with the mob. I try to fight against them, but it’s useless. Seconds ago, these same crazed spectators were chanting for death. Now, all of them race toward the exit to save their own ass.
Like salmon going upstream, I fight my way in the opposite direction, back to the cage. I shove and push as if I’m not even there. I slowly make my way through the crowd until I’m in a small clearing. I jump up to see over the heads of the crowd and into the octagon. No one is standing in the cage. Python and the ref are gone. Only my father’s body lies in a bloody heap on the mat.
Before I reach the cage, another fight breaks out, andI’mshovedtoward the same dark corner from where I began watching this hellish nightmare. I need to get back to my dad. Tears blur my vision as I try to fight my way through the stragglers. A white-hot pain like I’ve never felt before splinters through my side just above my hip.
I grab the area, and wetness coats my hand. “What the?—?”
I double over. My breaths become short gasps as I try to remember to breathe through the piercing pain. The only thing I can concentrate on is the searing throb. I close my eyes, tuning out the surrounding chaos. When I catch my breath, I stand. Even in the dingy light of the warehouse, I can see blood coating my hand. My father isn’t the only one in trouble.
“Get out of here,”a deep voice rumbles next to me.
A masked figure stands before me. The snake’s fangs on his mask are only inches from my face.Venom.His dark, arrestingeyes are his only visible feature. Like me, the rest of him is shrouded by a dark hoodie pulled low over his brow.
I’m unable to focus on him, too overcome with the chaos around me and the unbearable pain shooting through my side. My entire existence feels taken out of context, as if I slipped into another realm and I’m watching a different version of myself, a version of me who’s helpless and frail. She’s so unfamiliar because I’ve never been either of those things.
The masked man stands at least a head taller than I do. I catch sight of his hands to see what he stabbed me with, but they’re empty. Confused and reeling with pain, anger, fear, and grief, I do the only thing I know how to do. I lash out. He quickly catches my wrist before I’m able to strike him.
His gaze is drawn to my hand, covered with blood. “What the fuck?”
Shock or concern causes him to reach for me, then he jerks back and stares at me as if I’m some new species. Too confused and scared for my dad, and now for myself, to decipher what’s going on, I yank my arm free. He reaches up to tug my hood down. I move to stop him with my free hand, but it’s too late. My blonde hair spills out. Several people, their masks a blur, run past us to their freedom, back to their safe, sheltered lives.
As he takes me in, the stranger’s eyes darken to a deeper shade of night. I should be scared by the fury igniting in them. I’m not. If my dad weren’t on the verge of death, then there might be a slight possibility I would be, but not tonight.
“I need to get Slayer out of here,”I rasp. I’m losing blood and precious time standing here with this greedy killer.
“It’s too late for him. He’s already gone. Butyouneed to get out of here. If they get a hold of you”—he jerks his head toward the rapidly approaching sirens—“you’redone for.”
By his low, heated growl and the uneasy way he looks around, I don’t think the cops are the only ones he’s warning meagainst. When he faces me again, the gaping mouth of the viper on his mask sparks a renewed, vibrant anger deep in my core.
“No! You’re the reason he’s— I won’t leave him.”
“Let’s go. Now!”someone yells over the surrounding chaos to the masked figure standing with me.
“I won’t leave him!”I shout again as a thunderstorm of hysteria overtakes me. None of this was supposed to happen.
He grips my shoulders. “You don’t have a choice. Leave now and disappear,”he hisses.
Why is this stranger so hell-bent on my escaping the danger on its way? I’m no one but the daughter of the man who lies dying only twenty feet away from me. I try to fight against him to get back to my father. He’s the only one who matters right now.
The moment the stranger’s grip loosens, I take advantage of the split second I have, spinning around and escaping his hold. I turn to run back to my dad. Something slams into the back of my head before I take two full strides. An explosion of pain erupts inside my skull. The room tilts. My body sways on its own accord. As if I’m walking into a tunnel, darkness closes in around me.
Dad…He’s the only thought I have before the black hole of defeat drags me under in its unbreakable embrace. Yet, somehow, I know this is only the beginning of the hell that’s coming for me.
1
KINSLEY
It’s beenthree months since my dad was brutally killed and I was stabbed. My sliced flesh has healed a lot faster than the hole left in my chest.
