No-Neck Douchebag glances at his weapon then back at me. “You think? Because it looks to me like we got the guns, and you got yourself recaptured.”
I roll my lips and nod. “Looks like.”
A quick survey of the yard shows only the diehards remained. Maybe ten guards at most. The ones so loyal to David, or so bloodthirsty, not even the threat of jail or death chased them out of Gomorrah. They’re the cockroaches too stupid to crawl back in the walls when the lights turned on.
“Can’t believe you came alone,” he says from behind me. “We had bets on if you would be that dumb.”
“What’d you wager?”
“Hundred bucks that’d you come with an army and try to shoot your way in.”
“Sorry for your lost money, my man.”
He grunts out a laugh. “Never would have thought a timid thing like her would have a pussy worth dying over.”
“She doesn’t,” I lie as I struggle not to rip out this asshole’s throat. “It’s a matter of principle. Crane took something from me, and now I’m going to take something from him.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to take from him, Atticus?”
The name crawls over every nerve like razor blades. “Every-fucking-thing.”
We get to the entrance of the Coliseum. “Good luck with that.”
He pulls a key from the retractable ring attached to his belt and opens the door. Familiar smells waft around me as my vision adjusts from sunlight to darkness. I glance to the left, and all the air leaves my lungs. The cage stands in the center of the arena, surrounded by empty rows of chairs ten deep. So different without the horde of bodies desperate for carnage and cheering for death.
Sweat beads on my upper lip and my pulse quickens as my mind transports me back to all nine Fight Nights when I was marched up from the dungeon and paraded through the crowd. For a second, I’m locked inside the cage and forced to murder my way out. Covered in blood and grateful to be alive even as I was saturated in guilt.
“Bet you miss it.” No-Neck still has the AK jammed in my back. “The rush of taking a man’s life. Of being the one to walk out of the cage.”
I turn away from the arena and toward the door that leads to the dungeon. No-Neck pulls another key and unlocks another door. I breathe in a wave of stale air and walk down the corridor. Can’t let him see my desperation. But holy fuck, Iamdesperate. More desperate than I’ve ever been in my life.
When we reach the bars, I’m shocked to see they’re unlocked. I know everyone’s dead, but it’s…weird…to see this prison so open.
“Was it you who pulled the trigger?”
“Someone had to do it,” he admits.
“Even the kids?”
His smirk says it all.
Piece of fucking shit.
I push my way inside the Hub, and reality is a train that hits me at maximum speed. All the agony and degradation. Hunger and thirst. The collision should shatter me. Leave me rubble on the floor. But I’m too arrogant to break—and as long as Jamie’s life is connected to mine, I owe it to her to keep my stubborn ass together and stay alive long enough to make her a widow.
“Crane.” My roar echoes throughout the deserted dungeon.
The groan of hinges sounds a moment later when the door to Elite swings open and out steps the man I came for. Can’t help but notice the prick looks worse for the wear.
Crane runs a hand over his hair to smooth it back. “Finally.”
I shrug. “Traffic.”
“Nate, I doubt our guest came alone,” Crane says to No-Neck. “Go back outside and position everyone by the gate. Shoot anything that approaches.”
“Yes, sir,” Nate says before retreating the way we came.
Crane would never leave himself alone with me, and sure enough, Lyle is hovering in the doorway of Elite with an AK trained on me.
