“I’m not going to fight you, Will,” I said, proud of how steady and clear my voice sounded. “I was never going to fight you.”
“Oh, you’re going to fight me.” Will sneered, slowly pacing back and forth, closing in like a hyena.
“No, I’m not.” I shook my head. “I’m done with that shit. No amount of threats and intimidation were ever going to get me to throw another punch. Sorry you wasted your time putting all those posters up. Hope you didn’t get too many paper cuts.”
“Stop being a pussy and hit him!” Joseph’s voice echoed in the cavernous space. Like a good little boy, Will immediately moved to obey his father.
He sprang forward, throwing a wide right hook. But he wasn’t quick enough. I ducked out of the way and backed up, hands raised in front of me. I wasn’t going to fight him—but I was going to defend myself as long as I could.
Will growled and came for me again. Football had made him fast, strong—he was relentless. I batted his swings out of the way, dodging and weaving, but eventually I started to get winded.
He pulled back, dancing on his toes, waiting, but his face had lost some of its confidence. If this was for real, if I’d actually stepped into the ring with him, I would’ve already won—and he knew it.
“Do I have to do everything myself?” Joseph barked and shrugged out of his coat, letting it flop to the filthy ground, before loosening his tie. They both advanced on me. I considered running, but what was the point? They’d catch up—eventually. Even if it wasn’t before I reached my car and got away, they’d find me and do what they planned to do. Might as well get it over with.
I tried to get away from them, duck out of their reach, but it was two against one. After some grappling and shoving, Joseph managed to grab my arms and held me by the elbows as I thrashed.
Pain exploded in my skull with Will’s first punch, and my eye felt as if it had burst in its socket.
Is this what Austin felt, right before he stopped feeling anything at all? Or was there no pain whatsoever for him?
I saw the next hit coming and tensed, but it still hurt like a motherfucker when Will’s fist collided with my core. My insides clenched, and my stomach roiled. I half hoped I’d puke all over him.
Like a little bitch, Will backhanded me, but he was wearing a ring, and it split my bottom lip open. The hit rattled my brain even more after that initial punch. It threw my head to the side, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of Shady. He was still leaning on the railing, still casually scrolling through his phone. Unbelievable . . .
He glanced up and winced, but my full focus was taken up by Will’s fist smashing into my ribs. I coughed and wheezed, doubling over as much as possible with his father holding me tightly.
Finally, Will took a few steps back, breathing hard.
I spit blood onto the concrete and fixed him with as firm a look as I could manage through a rapidly swelling eye. “I was never going to fight you,” I repeated. “The police are already on their way.” I prayed that was true—or at least that they would believe it enough to leave. What if the police came past, saw it was as quiet as I thought when I arrived, and didn’t bother to check inside?
Shady’s chuckle echoed. Will grinned before stepping a little closer. “We both know the cops aren’t coming. And even if they do, what are they gonna find?” He spread his arms wide and looked around. “All I see is a man and his son protecting their property from a known murderer.”
“You think you can get one over on me, boy?” Frydenberg’s mouth was close to my ear, but he was practically yelling anyway. “I’ve been in business for years. Been running circles around the police and everyone in this town. I have eyes and ears everywhere. You think I don’t know about that little weasel Drew? My son has been keeping an eye on him for months. Weak piece of shit. Shady’s already taking care of him. I’m going to personally watch the life drain out of your eyes, and then I’m going to feed you to the rats. And that little whore of yours?