Mack doesn’t stack the audience today. Just a carefully chosen few are there to witness his victory. I spot Darcy among them, her gray eyes watching and wary.
The bastard wants to repeat history, apparently. The setup is similar to our last match before I got shipped off to prison—back when Mack challenged me for the crown Dino shoved onto my head by taking a bullet to the brain and tossing his “kingdom” into turmoil.
Five years later not much has changed. Mack still has the same cocky swagger, and I’m not much different from the punk I’d been back then. The biggest difference of all, however, is that this time...
I don’t want to lose.
“I say we make this interesting, Kitty.” Stalking toward the ring, Mack strips off his shirt—apparently, there won’t be a warm-up before this match; we’ll fight with whatever energy we already have in reserve. “Winner not only gets to decide what to do with little Arnold over there, but...they also get to keep the spoils.” He gives the word enough emphasis to make it crystal fucking clear what he means: I win and I get the Saints. If he wins, he gets her. Being shown up by the little bitch twice hasn’t sat well with him, apparently. Chuckling, he watches me process the raised stakes while he opens his stance, baring his teeth. This time, he keeps his jeans on, but he lets his scars do the talking—many of them put there by me.
It’s only when I wrench off my own shirt that I remember my brand new markings, courtesy of a little bitch with eyes like fire and a monster in her head. If I lost this match, I knew without a fucking doubt that Mack wouldn’t kill me—no, he’d want me alive to watch him fuck her.
“Danny,” he smirks, reading the brand while rubbing his chin. “Interesting. Pick your weapon, Kitty.” When he enters the pit, the fucker draws his own weapons from both pockets. Two knives honed sharp enough to slice the light reflected off them.
I don’t move. Unlike Mack, I don’t carry a fucking arsenal in my pockets, though, on second thought... I feel something against my hip, and my fingers settle over a familiar hilt: the girl’s silly little knife. The blade won’t make a fucking difference in a true fight, but for some reason, I palm it anyway and head forward to join Mack in the center of the cage. One of his men is there to slam the door shut behind me, and there is no gun firing off to mark the start of this battle.
Two seconds. That’s how long Mack allows us to circle each other before he lunges and I react purely on instinct. There are no games this time. He jabs at my side with one of the blades and slashes at my throat with the other—apparently, I underestimated the fucker. A death match it is then.
I can only block one of his blows; I uppercut with my right fist, deflecting the blade from my chin. A quick jab right lessens how deeply his second knife cuts into me, but it’s deep enough to fucking sting. My blood speckles the sand when I pull back, and I know that I won’t be able to draw any of his with only this shitty little knife.
The mad dog chose his arena and his weapons well. Without an audience to preen for he’s reverted to the fucking basics: rage, hate and his bare hands. “Come on Kitty,” he goads, circling my position on the balls of his feet. “Make a fucking move.”
A low hum rips through my skull. Every time I blink, Mack turns red and any other time I would have taken him up on the challenge—damn how many wounds it might cost me.
All that holds me back now is...
“Afraid you left your little bitch waiting?” Mack asks. The next second he’s on me, fists flying, and with every blow he lands, the buzzing in my skull grows louder—deafening—but I still hear his next words, “When I kick your ass I’ll be sure to pay her a visit. My name will look nice on that tight little ass, eh Dante?”
Black. I go blind. My ears pop, and I can’t hear a fucking thing. Vibration is the only sensation that keeps me tethered; bone and flesh reverberating beneath my goddamn fists. Over and over again. Mack could have Dino’s playground—but not her.
Stacatto’s whore is a little toy that I’m not willing to share. Not until I drag every dark, twisted little desire from her head. Not until I make her admit the secrets she won’t even spill to herself. Not until I own her fully...
Mack won’t have her. No one fucking will.
Searing pain cuts through the haze of bloodlust—Mack won’t go down so easily. I grit my teeth beneath a slash to my upper thigh, and then an even deeper wound in my left forearm—but even that can’t break through the fog in my head for long.
I blink until my vision clears just enough to plant one fucking shot...
There. Mack lunges to the left, leaving his side open and I take it, ramming the knife into his ribcage—not the blade, but the hilt. The attack catches him off guard. He tries to parry with one of his own, but I’m too quick. One firm kick to the knee, and he falls.
Red paints my vision when I slam my heel into the bastard’s chest—for Arno. I land another punch against his jaw just to hammer the point in. Checkmate.
He’s still not down completely when he spits out blood at my feet. “You think this means a goddamn thing, Kitty?” he grits out, laughing. “Want to know a secret? That little bitch is already dead—”
My fist to his jaw shuts him up, but I hear him panting when I approach the door to the cage and snatch the length of chain from the gate.
“Dante!” I know Darcy’s the one shouting for me when I approach Mack with the length of the chain and lope it around his neck—a collar fit for any animal.
The muscles in my arm pop when I yank, sealing off the bastard’s windpipe until his face turns red and no sound comes out of his mouth. Just gurgles. Gasps. Wheezes. I wait until I see the knowledge flash through his eyes, even as his lips form a cocky grin. This is it. Game. Set. Match.
When he finally accepts death with one last choked grunt, I let him go, loosening the chain and leaving him gasping for air on his knees.
“Say it,” I demand, raising the girl’s knife as though it’s a legitimate weapon. It bites into his shoulder regardless, tasting a fresh bleed of blood. “To Arno. Say it.”
I jerk my head toward the man in question who watches from the sidelines, unsurprised. He doesn’t react, but I know that he won’t forgive me for taking this moment from him, whether I saved his life or not.
“You...you win, Kitty,” Mack grunts, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes burn—no pup likes being put in his place, but he won’t risk his honor by challenging me. At least not yet. The fucker emulates Dino in every way but the goddamn accent. “You win. Welcome back to the fold—” he chokes out a laugh. “You’re alpha now. I hope your little bitch was worth it.”
I jerk my hand away and try not to let my irritation show. Alpha. It was the title Dino used, demanding it the way most men preferred ‘boss’ or ‘king.’ “In a world of mad dogs, the only rules are laid down by the fucking alpha,” he would snarl. “A ‘king’ is a just a piece on a fucking game board—not even the most powerful piece. An alpha is the fucker playing the goddamn game.”
For once, I agree with Mack; the little bitch better be worth it.
Gritting my teeth, I look for Arno, but I don’t find him by the cage. Neither is Darcy. The only ones left behind are Mack’s men who glance warily from me to their old master. I almost consider tugging on their leashes and testing out my newfound role, but another issue takes the forefront.
I turn, even before I hear Arno shouting. I smell the blood first—fainter and more potent than Mack’s. It rides the air even before I see the man Arno leads inside, practically holding him upright.
I don’t think when I plow through the doors of the cage and straight toward Espi. My eyes dart from injury to injury, tallying them up. He has two black eyes brewing. His forehead is cut. His lip is split. His fingers are missing...
I suck in air as the buzzing swells into a deafening hum. Nothing can reach me, but the hoarse sound Espi makes when he tries to talk. “Dan...Danny. Danny.” He tilts his head back, just far enough to meet my gaze head-on and suddenly everything is as sharp as if cut on a razor’s edge. “They took her.”