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)
It worked, got me a foot in the door at Avix U, after two years of busting my ass with Mrs. Franco, and when I was lucky, Davis, as my own personal tutors. Even years younger, she knew her shit well enough to guide me through mine.
We headed off to school together.
There were always little things he had that I wished for, but not to the point of hate or envy, simply ideals and dreams living in his world made me want to strive for.
His family pushed me to be better. Still do when I feel helpless and think back to what they taught me.
It wasn’t until Memphis started getting into deeper trouble out here that I witnessed for the first time something he had I didn’t want any part of, fear.
He was afraid his family would hate him for what he was doing and hiding.
Afraid he’d lose them.
Afraid he’d get kicked off the team, dropped from school, and have nothing and no one and so on and so forth.
His addiction preyed on his insecurities, and eventually, on his conscience.
It was a downhill battle there, and I was the rickety wheel on the front of the barrel, doing all I could to keep him from tumbling the rest of the way down.
That is, until he removed the screws himself and I was crashing to the ground on my own, no hand to lift me up, no shovel to dig me out.
Then I met Willie. His relationship with his brothers is what gave me the courage to call my own. Time and age might have pulled us apart—what ten-year-old would willingly walk away from their mom? Especially said mom paired with a manipulative son of a bitch called dad, a decision I know he regrets, but neither of us can change it. I know I would if I could, I sure as hell would.
Now I have a gang of guys, of family, at my side. People who will stand with me, not behind me.
People at risk of being hurt, if I don’t do what I’ve always been dangerously good at.
If I don’t fight.
But what will it cost me this time?
Another three years?
My girl?
My life?
“You owe me a free shot after this, but you already know this,” Willie snaps, his face blank, eyes facing forward.
The man isn’t talking about liquor. He’s more than mad, which means he might even knock me out when I give him that free shot.
If I told him I held back because Layla has been sick, and getting closer to delivery, he wouldn’t wait until after all this to swing. He’d whoop my ass right now.
Or I’d have to let him, I mean.
“You can get me on my good side.”
He frowns at the window but says nothing.
“Ready?”
He nods, and together, we step out, lifting our hands into the air to let the no-neck dipshits search us.
Across the empty lot, standing against a black El Camino is the bastard I beat unconscious on Davis’s living room floor. Did I say standing?
I meant balancing on a crutch, his right arm in a sling, a thick white brace wrapped around his neck, black-and-blue bruises coloring most of his skin. Mix that with the thick stitches laced across his face, and he looks like the redheaded doll from The Nightmare Before Christmas. A fucked-up version.
“That’s right.” A familiar voice speaks, and I face forward to find the silver-haired prick from the farmers’ market. The asshole responsible for destroying my bar. He smirks, waving a hand toward the guy glaring at me. “You met my brother. Doc says his hand might not be the same after this. Nephew ain’t looking too hot either, but he’s young, dumb, and needed a scar or two to dirty him up.”
He glances left and I follow his gaze to find the prick from the diner, his face still puffed and bruised—lucky he can stand. Willie pounced on me the minute I had the fucker by the throat, knowing I’d do worse to him for damaging the sense of safety Davis felt within herself. I only got a few hits in on him, lucky punk.
I say nothing, and the silver-haired asshole tips his head.
Picking his teeth with a knife he casually pulls out, he stares at me. “Don’t waste my time, son.”
“Then say what you want, so I can tell you to fuck off.”
A big dude with a fist tattooed on his neck steps closer, and I keep my head held high, my eyes locked with his. Big dudes fall fast, if you know where to start.
The silver-haired man laughs, flicking his blade closed and pushing to his feet with a grin. “One fight, that’s all I’m asking. This ain’t my territory, so I can’t stay long, but there’s a card coming up in a few days, about fifty miles from here, so we’ll be on common ground with two other clans, but see, I’m the only one without a fighter on this card. That’s a problem.” He steps closer, and Willie’s hands flex at his side. “The prize is too mighty for me not to have a hand in. That’s where you come in.” He grins. “You can thank your girl’s rat of a brother for that, if the little bitch ever comes out of hiding again.”