Broken: Round One (Broken #1) (14 page)

He swipes at a stray lock of black hair that curls around my cheek, making me flinch.

“You can’t give chances. If you do, you’re dead. They don’t care about you or your feelings. If they want to cheap shot you when you’re not looking, they will. You need to start acting like you know what you’re doing or they’re going to start attacking you relentlessly.”

Satisfied, Jai straightens his posture and folds his large arms. “Speaking of which, do you know who your opponent is?”

I swallow hard and shake my head. Why is a question like that important in a conversation like this?

“You remember the friend you made in the shower the other day, don’t you?”

I flinch. Oh. My eyes widen and a smugness falls over Jai’s features.

“You’ll be happy to know she personally chose you to fight in the ring today. You’re naïve, Kitten, and they can smell it on you. The second you open your mouth, weakness spills out.”

A strange burning sensation seeps across the surface of my eyes and tears threaten to bubble from my ducts. He’s right, but I never claimed to fit in here. I never sought this place out. I was trapped—dragged in kicking and screaming. I’ve barely been here a week and he expects me to be some kind of hardened warrior, like him. It doesn’t work that way. I’m a normal human being. I work a normal job and live in a normal house. I didn’t train for this. I didn’t want to be a part of this. This ‘brotherhood’ might make me feel alive and wanted like never before, but that doesn’t mean it’s me. This place isn’t me. Jai reaches out for me and I try to turn away, but the tips of his fingers catch my chin.

“You have to promise me that no matter what happens in the cage, you will not back down. You will not give her the chance to hurt you.”

I sniffle. “And how do I stop her from hurting me?”

His blue eyes flare sympathetically and it’s so gut-wrenching that it hurts me.

“Trust me” is all he says before he swipes my lower lip with his thumb and exits the room.

* * * *

Strangely, the concrete beneath my feet feels extra cold as I make my way towards the cage. The room is thick with body heat and I can almost taste the sweat of everyone watching. People I pass on the way grab at me but I ignore them, focusing only on the rusted cage hanging above a tunnel God knows how many feet or yards deep. Fear, or maybe it’s that elusive adrenaline Jai was talking about, shakes my body and bubbles in my blood. I hate this. I hate not knowing the outcome. The odds weigh heavily against me, but Jai seems confident I can pull it off.

The cage isn’t empty, like it was when Jai started. My opponent waits for me and watches me intently as I approach. Her beautiful body is covered in thin straps of black and tan fabric. A sexy look I could never pull off. I decided to wear leggings and a tank top. I figured the less amount of flesh exposed to the rusting metal, the better.

I reach out for the cage door. It swings minutely, increasingly when my opponent bounces on her feet. I grip the gate and place a bare foot on the step. My stomach rocks with the cage, causing a bout of nausea to roll through me. I swallow hard, hoping to stop the vomit from forcing its way up my throat before I power chuck all over the canvas floor. I push myself into the cage and my attention locks not on my opponent, but on the canvas under my feet. Big stains of brown blood taint the surface and there’s no telling how old it is. It could be from ten years ago. I sidestep onto a lighter stain, but it doesn’t make me feel any less queasy.

Finally, I force my attention on to my opponent. I’ve stopped thinking of her as a human being and more of an objective. She hiccups and swipes at her mouth before sneering at me. Her friendly smile I remember from the shower that day is gone, replaced by the urge to win. I eye her up, ignoring the group of people closest to the cage who laugh at me. I’ve tied my long, dark hair into a tight ponytail, but she lets her auburn waves curl freely around her shoulders. Framing her face, strands of her hair stick to her clammy skin, and that’s when I notice her complexion. It’s a pale white; almost green. She blinks lazily before swaying to the side. I inch forward and she jolts upright again, bringing her fists up to her face. I swallow and peer out of the cage. I spot Jai immediately, leaning against a decaying column, his leg bent at the knee and his arms folded tightly across his chest. He watches me intently, and it makes me nervous. I don’t want to take my eyes off him until his attention flicks to the ledge above the cage. Blood drains from my body, sending my heart slamming into my ribs over and over again with a cramping pain. I drag my stare away from Jai and onto the ledge. As I look up, my sight locks with Skull’s and he tips his head to the side, analyzing me. I look away as quickly as I can.

Shit.

He knows. He knows I don’t belong here; I can feel it.

I shake my hands at my sides and roll my neck on my shoulders. I do something—anything I remember seeing the other fighters do in the cage. It isn’t until my opponent lurches forward that I realize Skull’s given his nod.

I dive out of the way as her vicious growl tears through the air. Adrenaline—I feel it now—tears through my veins hot and fast, making everything around me, except my opponent, blur.

Before I have a chance to secure my footing, she launches again and this time, her hard body slams into mine, knocking us both to the ground. It hurts more than I expect it to, but it’s not what has me groaning. The thought of lying on the dirty canvas sends spiders skittering over my skin. My opponent straddles my hips and sits up. Her fingers thread through the top of my hair, despite how tight I tied it back, and she squeezes while cocking back her fist. I clench my jaw and brace my face, but she wavers. Her face turns a little sleepy and her chest heaves, as if she’s trying hard not to throw up. I contemplate waiting, to give her a second to find her stomach, but Jai’s voice tears through my mind. You can’t give chances. If you do, you’re dead. They don’t care about you or your feelings. If they want to cheap shot you when you’re not looking, they will.

Twisting my core, I swing my hand as hard and as best I can from this position. I squeeze my eyes shut a split second before impact, then a burning sensation warms the palm of my hand as it connects so perfectly with her face. Wasting no time, I flick my hips and shove her off me. She crashes to the canvas and I roll away from her before pushing myself to my feet. I watch her as I blow my hair out of my face. Her arms shake as she struggles to lift her own weight. There’s definitely something wrong with her. Maybe she’s sick? Drunk? Hungover? Whatever it is, she’s not in full health.

“Finish her,” a deep voice yells through the crowd, pulling me from my stupor.

I turn towards it and see Jai leaning over the edge of the railing. I frown at him. I should at least let her gather her footing. The poor woman can barely stand. He narrows his eyes as I shake my head.

“If it’s not her it’s you, Kitten. End this. Now!”

I glance between Jai and the woman. I’ve never been more confused in my life. I’m not selfish at heart, not really, so to hurt someone when they’re clearly not ready for it is something I’m not sure I can do. But, in saying that, this is an extremely unorthodox situation. Is it okay to abandon my morals in a situation that’s do or die? Probably not, but I don’t have a choice. There are a lot of people watching. Every move I make has to be one of intimidation. I’m the weakest link down here. I know it and Jai knows it. How long before everyone else figures it out? Irrational anger builds in my chest at the thought.

I surge forward the second the woman finally climbs to her feet. Her back is to me, but that’s her fault, not mine. A small growl tears itself from my throat as I clench my jaw and jump at her. I wrap my legs around her hips and my arms around her neck. Once again, we crash to the canvas and the whole things creaks. With weak hands she pries at my arms, but she’s only wasting what little energy she has left. Without thought, I hit her in the face with a closed fist, over and over while holding her squirming body against me. She can’t fight me off and the feeling is … well, it’s empowering. I clench my teeth and strike her harder. She tries to protect her face, but my hands are moving too fast for her to slip any kind of defense under them. I hit her repeatedly until the muscles in my arm start to burn. As I pull my hand up one last time, I see red glisten across my skin and I stop. I’ve hurt her. I’ve made her bleed.

I release her and push her body away. She rolls onto her stomach, coating the canvas in fresh blood. It’s not a lot—not compared to Jai’s opponent, by any means—but I still forced it from her body. Shielding her face and whimpering, she shakes her head and flashes me the palm of her hand. It’s a gesture of surrender … and it makes me feel like shit.

My mind unblocks itself and the roar of the crowd explodes in my eardrums. I won. She surrendered and I won.

I like winning. I’ve always been the competitive type, but this feels different. I’m almost ashamed of myself.

I turn from the woman and head towards the gate that’s now open. I have to do something to take my mind off this fight. I don’t want congratulations. I want to lie down or throw up or drink until I pass out.

I saunter from the cage, my hands shaking like never before. They burn hot, as if I’ve toasted them over a warm fire. I don’t know what happened … I don’t know how I could’ve possibly won a fight. The woman, she seemed a little off, but still dangerous. Following Jai’s advice, I’d had to be brutal. I couldn’t give her the chance to hurt me.

I brush my hair out of my face and peer over my shoulder. The Russian woman, the one who so sweetly offered me her shampoo and body wash not so long ago, lies in a crumpled heap with a bloodied nose and mouth, blinking at the ceiling. My stomach revolts at the sight. I didn’t like hitting her, not one little bit, but it had to be done. Still, the ten thousand dollars doesn’t seem worth it now and I can’t help the nagging thought in the back of my mind that tells me I should find a way out before round two. I can’t go through that again.

“Ugh,” I grunt as I slam into a hard body.

The distinct smell of expensive cologne and cigars flood in through my nostrils. I recover quickly and stare at the widespread chest in front of me. Slowly, I suck in a breath as I drag my sights on to his face. His thick, slightly scarred lips pull into a wide smile, stretching the small white lines and it is not, by any means, a comforting grin.

“Skull wants to see you,” he says.

My heart stops cold. His voice is baritone and rough. It sends shivers skittering down my spine, and not in a good way. Why would they? I mean, look at him. He has roughly chopped black hair that frames his hardened face. His skin looks thick and coarse enough to rival a rhino’s, and he’s dressed in the most ridiculous attire for a dense, humid place like this. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt, rolled at the elbows, that exposes his Hulk-like arms, as well as a black pair of slacks and some cream snakeskin shoes. On his chest, a small gold cross lies against the fabric. He’s definitely part of a gang. One that likes to blend in with high society. If the outfit isn’t a dead giveaway, the large skull tattooed on the side of his neck is.

Questions run through my brain, one after the other, but none I want to entertain at the present time.

“Can I ask what for?”

He snatches my bicep in his freakishly large hands and squeezes until I wince. Instinctively, I jolt towards him.

“You can ask, Princess, but I ain’t gonna tell you.”

He yanks me forward and I desperately peer over my shoulder for Jai. The crowd is moving erratically and I can’t see him. I’m pulled and pushed, pinched and squeezed right up until we reach the service door I saw Jai go through earlier. He was gone for hours only to return with a ‘tattoo of interest’. I doubt I have something Skull is interested in. My fight wasn’t brutal, not compared to Jai’s, anyway, and the woman I’d fought was hardly in the right state of mind. Anyone could see that.

I hold my breath as he pulls me through the door behind him. The only thought in my brain is a single four-lettered word. It begins with F and ends with K.

Skull’s man holds me by the bicep and forces me to stand by a yellow service light underneath a concrete set of stairs that curl down to the right of the room. His grip is tight and threatening, so I don’t dare to move.

The room in front of me is a nice little set-up. To the left, there’s a small table surrounded by seven wooden chairs of varying quality. On the surface, poker chips and cards are scattered around the base of empty beer bottles. Across the medium-sized room sits a used, stripy sofa with cushions that look two decades old, covered in velvet and all kinds of stains. Neither of those are the reason for the jackhammers hammering away at my stomach lining. What worries me the most, is the tattoo chair that sits conspicuously in the middle of the room.

I swallow hard.

Shit.

Indications

“Unhand the girl, will you?”

I hear Skull’s voice before I see him.

The goon releases me the second I see Skull’s whiter-than-white sneakers step onto the dark, dirty concrete floor in front of me. I pull my stare from his shoes, up his black slacks and onto his white, formal shirt. For the occasion he’s extremely overdressed, but whatever statement he’s trying to make with his immaculate attire and gold cufflinks has been made. Skull has money. He has places he needs to be. He wants me to feel honored by his presence and I have to be if I’m going to get out of here without spilling my secret.