CHAPTER EIGHT

 EMMETT

 

THE FIGHT WAS being held in his basement. I waited in a bedroom upstairs, listening to the roars of men hungry for death. I stared at myself in the mirror as I jabbed at my reflection, stopping a breath away from the glass. The swish of the air and my heartbeat were the only noises until my phone started to ring. I looked at the screen. Amber Green flashed up.

The door to the room opened. “Let’s go.” I looked at the phone again. “Now,” one of the suits barked, his dark sunglasses covering his eyes. I put the phone on the sideboard before leaving the room.  I followed him into the huge basement as the deafening roars of so many men made my heart pound faster. I kept my eyes focused on the discolored, bloodstained concrete floor.  I didn’t glance up until I stood in front of my opponent, a large man who was as wide as he was tall. His hand would cover my skull, and he smashed them together as he grinned at me. I didn’t want to do this. I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t want to be here. The smell of sweat and the heat in the basement was affecting me more than the man in front of me.

The room fell silent as Kirill moved into the circle that had been freshly drawn with chalk. “Friends, welcome to the pits of hell!” A cheer rang out, but I focused on the giant in front of me. Blue eyes narrowed at me as he grinned. Veins seemed to bulge along his neck and forehead, as he shifted slightly on his feet, unable to keep still. My heart pounded too fast; I needed to slow it down. “Vicktor…” He held the man’s arm high, and everyone roared again. “…The Undefeated!” he added. So, this wasn’t going to be a fair fight. It was a death sentence. So why ask me to deliver a shipment if I wouldn’t make it out of this room alive?

Kirill turned to me, the cheers still ringing out around the room. “If you don’t win this fight, it won’t end with just your death. I will kill your sister, also.” Fire ignited inside me, along with darkness that waited for moments like these. I took a step towards him, and it felt like the entire room took a step towards me. I paused, my fists clenched. My mind fixated on hurting him.  “Don’t be silly, Mr. Harrington. I like you. I did, after all, bet for you to win this fight.” My beast silenced as he took a final bow and stepped outside the circle. I ducked, feeling the wind as Vicktor threw the first punch, and the crowd went wild. 

I cleared my mind as I sent multiple blows into the ribs of Vicktor, but the impact was minimal on him. He threw another wide fist, and I ducked again, sending a blow to his stomach. He bent over and I delivered a knee to his face with a satisfying crunch. Although it did some damage, it also seemed to make him stronger. I had poked the bear. He roared as blood spewed from his nose. My instincts were telling me to run, but the crowd held together along the white line. There was nowhere to go as he took me to the ground, his fist plummeting into my face. I covered my head as best I could. I tried pushing up, but couldn’t shift his weight off me, so I focused on protecting myself. It felt like forever before he was pulled off me and I was pulled from the ground and pushed towards him.

My face felt broken. The pain had me holding my hands up to my face, trying to protect it from any more hits, and I could taste blood. A silver object was thrown into the ring, and both of us ran for it at the same time. Vicktor kicked out my knee, sending me to the ground. I screamed in pain, but managed to get to my feet as he charged me with the knife. I moved to the side, every movement causing me pain. He dived again, and I moved swiftly away from him. He was getting frustrated, but I could wear him down. Frustrated meant clumsy. But then the next time he moved into me, he feigned left and he caught me right. The knife nicked my stomach with a slice of hot pain. I looked down as blood soaked the white top I wore. It was my wake-up call; the draw of my blood released the beast inside me.

I stood still and centered myself as Vicktor turned and came at me again with the knife. This time, I feigned left then right, and he tried to follow, but I was quicker. I landed a kick between his legs. He fell to the ground, the knife falling free, but I didn't go for it. I didn’t need it. Instead, I kicked him in the face, sending him sailing back until he lay flat on the concrete ground. His skull banged loud enough that I heard it over the roaring crowd before I climbed on top of him, sending blow after blow into his face. His hand reached up blindly, trying to grab my face, his movements slow and heavy. I took two fingers and bent them back until I heard them breaking, before I sent more blows to his face. He tried to protect himself, but I didn’t stop. No one pulled me off him.

It was the silence in the room that made me finally stop. Viktor’s lifeless body was unrecognizable as I stood and stumbled away from him. I hadn’t a moment before Kirill re-entered the circle. The silence had now become deafening. He looked at Vicktor before turning to me as I panted on wobbly legs. “You live,” he announced, and the crowd roared back into life, making Kirill smile. I picked a spot on the back wall and focused on it. “Vicktor was a warrior, but even the best of us fall.” I could feel his stare on me, but I didn’t look at him. I was trying to put the beast back in its cage, yet all I could think about was how he’d threatened Grace. For that, he was going to pay. He had no idea what he had just unleashed.  “Now Emmett Harrington is the devil of the pits.”

They roared, saying my name in unison. I didn't respond or acknowledge the title as I was led from the room by Kirill’s suits. They parted the crowd who tried to pat me on the back, the ones only moments ago who prayed for my death.

Once we reached the room I had waited in before the fight, the suits left closing the door behind them and leaving me alone. I caught my bloodied and broken reflection in the mirror before turning away and entering the bathroom. Turning on the faucet to the sink, I washed Vicktor’s blood from my hands. My knuckles had already started to swell, and two of them bled badly. No matter how much I scrubbed, more blood flowed from the cuts. Vicktor’s body flashed in my mind and I scrubbed harder at my hands, causing the blood to flow to increase.

“Mr. Harrington.” I paused and turned to find a young man standing in the room. He wore all white clothes; his blond hair brushed neatly to the right. “I need to see your wounds.” I didn't argue or respond but pulled the top off to let him stitch my stomach. It wasn’t deep, and the needle piercing my skin kept my thoughts away from the darkest thoughts that had blossomed.  Thoughts of the threat Kirill had made on Grace’s life. I couldn’t let that happen again. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to make that happen.

“You need to change the bandage every twelve hours,” he said while wrapping a white bandage around my stomach. Once he had finished, he handed me a clean shirt. While I buttoned it up, he examined my face. “Your face is very badly bruised and swollen, but mercifully nothing is broken.” He looked at my hands. Two of my knuckles continued to bleed, darkening the sleeve of my shirt.  “I need to stitch these.” I nodded my approval and relished in the pain from the needle. Once again, the darkness inside me was growing and I pushed it down. I wanted to hurt Kirill. I just worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop the beast in me. He wrapped my hands before leaving. I put on my jacket, igniting more pain. Once I was dressed, I stuffed my tie into my pocket and picked up my phone. When I looked at the screen, I was reminded of the call I had received before I was about to fight. I listened to the voicemail from Amber.  I rang her twice, my stomach twisting when she didn’t answer.

“Hello?” She sounded sleepy.

“Are you okay?” I asked, relieved that she had answered the phone. My jaw hurt to speak. 

“Emmett? Are you drunk?” She sounded irritated.

“Are you okay?” I asked again, ignoring her asinine statement.

“Yes, look, we can talk in the morning."

“It is morning.” The sun shone in the window right now.

“You're drunk.” She stated, and I sat on the bed. I couldn’t talk properly, my jaw throbbed, but I needed to make sure she was okay.

“Where are you?” I asked around the pain radiating up my jaw.

“Look, Emmett, you woke me up. I’m going back to sleep in my hotel bed, in your hotel.” She hung up. I closed the phone and slid it back into my pocket. She seemed fine; I was just being paranoid.

When Kirill entered the room, I stood. His hand grabbed my wounded one, and he shook it with a deliberately strong grip. I didn't flinch at the pain, but used it to stay focused, telling myself that hurting him would only get me killed.  “I knew you could do it. I was sick of hearing ‘Vicktor,’ ‘Vicktor.’ He was too cocky; someone had to take him down," He slapped me on the back. “And you, my friend, have taken him out!" He seemed a little too happy, but then his face grew somber. “My brother won’t be so happy."

“Why?” But now that I looked into Kirill eyes, the resemblance was there if you knew what you were looking for, and it all clicked.

“He’s my nephew.” Kirill laughed as the blood drained from my face.

“You had me kill your nephew?” The room grew deadly silent.

“Be careful, Mr. Harrington, with your words. You fought Vicktor in the pits and won; that is it. I will grieve for the arrogant bastard’s life, and don’t worry, I will keep my brother in check.” I held back the anger that grew inside me now. He had set me up. I would always be a wanted man, and this death wouldn’t rest until I was dead.

“So I’m on a leash." I spat.

“Now Mr. Harrington, don’t be so dramatic. There are just boundaries.” He looked at his watch and tipped the screen. “You best be making your way back to American soil. I am waiting on a corpse.” He left the room, leaving the door open, and I didn’t hesitate. I headed out the front door to where the driver who had brought me here sat waiting, and I climbed tiredly into the back. He glanced at me in the mirror before driving away.

 

 AMBER

My phone rang twice more, and I cursed Emmett’s drunk ass. When it stopped, I sighed, thankful that he had finally given up. But I should have known it wouldn’t last long. I was just getting cozy when someone banged on my hotel room door, repeatedly.

“Amber!” I frowned, the voice I knew, but I couldn’t place it. “Amber, it’s JP.” My mind went through all the JP’s I knew, but nothing was jogging my memory. Had I slept with someone called JP and forgotten about it? I sat on the bed, listening. I was fully awake now, but I wasn’t just going to open the door. “Amber, it’s about Liam, the boy you helped save.” It was the mention of Liam that finally made it all click.

I opened the door and JP just walked right in, as if he owned the place. I glared at him. “You can’t just arrive at my hotel room. You need to….”

“Get dressed; we don’t have time.”  He cut me off. I stared at him, really taking him in, his disheveled shirt that wasn’t buttoned up correctly. He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes wild as he looked around my floor.

I grabbed the jeans that were flung at me and glared at him as he opened drawers, pulling out a top before throwing that at me, too. That was it. I’d had enough. I was tired and cranky and didn’t appreciate my space being invaded. “Get out!” I practically screamed.

How dare he!

When he stalked towards me, I took an involuntary step back. “Liam is dying, so get dressed quickly or you’re going in what you are wearing.” He wasn’t messing, so I got dressed as he stood glaring at me.

This guy was insane.