Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Any thoughts of laughter disappear when the speaker man leaves the circle; Crew and “Snake” as they chant around me, shifting toward the center.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest, and I reach up, gripping both Julius and Drew’s forearms. Both flex the moment my fingers close around them, letting me know they’ve got me, that it’s going to be okay.
That Crew will be okay.
He has to be.
My heart is in my throat the minute the gun goes off, Snake having jumped a second early, his fists swinging at Crew before the smoke has left the barrel.
Crew doesn’t move his feet, his torso simply twists, the upper half leaning back and to the side, like some Mortal Kombat shit. Snake’s momentum is so strong, he stumbles into the rope. Crew capitalizes on the position, swiftly spinning and wrapping his arms around the man’s neck, tipping him back and kicking his feet out from under him, but the guy reaches backward, jabbing his fingers into Crew’s left eye.
Crew jerks, tossing Snake to the floor, and clamps the watering eye closed, but only for a second.
People shout as the fighters round each other, and heat brims along my skin, fear and anxiety warming the blood in my veins.
Snake swings over and over again, clipping Crew in the jaw, but it almost looks purposeful, as if Crew allowed it, because in the next second, Crew is dipping to the right, the exact way his head snapped, his dominant fist connecting with Snake’s kidney. His left follows, right against his opponent’s lung.
Snake’s chest caves and he jerks back, seeking the ropes for a moment of reprieve, which Crew doesn’t allow.
He attacks, his body moving swift and smooth, as if he’s the king of salsa and this pit in the dark, dirty clearing is his dance floor. I’ve never seen anything like it. Swing, swing, dip. Roll, spin, swing.
Swing, swing, swing.
My lips part, Julius’s body jerking in my hold, and I realize my nails are piercing his skin, but I can’t let go. I push closer, and they push back, smashing me between them and the wall completely, my nose buried between their biceps.
Blood pours from Snake’s nose and brow, from his temple and—
I jolt when Crew’s elbow slams into the side of Snake’s face, and a loud crack is heard, followed by a sharp scream, charging the air around us.
Blood gushes from Snake’s mouth now, and he chokes, coughing and spraying red into the air as he turns, the crowd jumping back with shouts to avoid the splatter. He trips into the rope, fumbling around it, and attempts to steady his feet.
I push onto my toes, my pulse bounding wildly in my chest as something changes.
Drew and Julius stand taller, both growing rigid.
Willie darts right, attempting to squeeze along the ropes.
To get a better view?
To get to Crew?
Why?
I try to shout, to ask what’s going on, but my voice is drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
That’s when I see them, two men shoving their way to the front of the spectators. They reach the ring’s edge, lean forward, and grab hold of Crew’s arms, pulling them back, his chest bowing forward.
Crew’s mouth opens with a loud shout, the veins in his neck bulging as he fights against the hold.
Panic flares in my chest, and I try to push through the boys, but they only push back harder, each chancing the quickest of flicks of their gazes toward one another.
“We have to help him! We have to help him!” My fearful screams fall on deaf ears but pulsate through my own.
Snake wipes his face along his arm, slowly coming at Crew, and Crew kicks out, nearly tripping him, but Snake catches himself, a sinister smile turning up his face.
That’s when I see it, when we all see it, if the jolt of Drew’s body tells me anything.
The hint of silver hidden in Snake’s palm flashes against the light, a single second before it’s thrust into Crew’s side.
I scream, shoving at the bodies in front of me, and in their moment of shock and worry, in the middle of Drew’s mind, torn between rushing to help his brother and doing the one thing his brother made him promise, keeping me safe, I dip down, squeezing between their legs and dart forward, freezing as the knife is yanked out and shoved into Crew’s other side.
“No!” I cry, my shout blending with Crew’s battle cry.
I run, but I’m caught around the waist and yanked backward, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
I briefly register the sound of Julius’s voice in my ear, but I don’t hear a thing he says.
“Let me go!” I gasp, kicking and clawing. “Please! Someone, please!” I scream, but no one can hear me.
The crowd is cheering as they watch Crew’s head drop to his chest, his muscles stretched, body thrashing as he fights to get free.