Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,35

sound spills out. It’s another carpark, but instead of cars, it’s filled with people and jutting up like some dark tower; there’s a cage in the center that everyone is staring at.

Shay glances at me one final time before he moves through the crowd. There is no pushing or trying to get through; they separate in front of him. He had said this was uncharted territory, but clearly, they know him. Gazes trail over me, and I pray to God that I don’t look southern. I keep my chin high as I follow Shay, but I can’t stop looking around me. The large pillars that hold the ceiling up are either covered in graffiti of just random words or images of maybe fights that occurred. I pause at one girl with a Mohawk. She’s wearing a pair of tight red shorts, and the artist has her breasts pouring out of her top. A hand swallows mine.

I turn, already knowing who it is. My gaze rises, and my heart trips over itself as Shay pulls me along with him and away from all the artwork.

The roars are electrifying as we make a path toward the cage. Once again, my attention gets consumed with all the different people. Large cans hold fire that people gather around. The flames rise high in one of the cans, and the people jump back. The crowd shifts and rattles. My hand slips out of Shay’s as a sense of panic infiltrates the space. I can't see Shay, but I keep my focus on the cage in the center of the room and work towards it. It’s harder this time as I have to push and shove my way through the crowd—no one parts for me.

I reach the front, and it’s like a swelling storm that I’m caught up in as I’m forced closer to the cage that has two girls fighting in. It’s a lot of hair-pulling. One with purple hair rakes her nails down the face of her opponent. The cheers are verbal, but another bodily swell comes like a wave, and I’m forced closer. I dig my hands into the cage to keep steady. The purple-haired girl is stronger as she throws the brunette on the ground. All the voices become one, and the crowd declares her a winner. The gates on either side open and both step out as another two girls enter. This time when they start to fight, it’s a bit more deadly. One of them roars before she charges, giving away her move.

The other girl is ready, anyone would be, and I’m already thinking of what I would do. Adrenaline anchors itself to me, and I’m on a high like never before. My voice rises with the crowd, and this is it — this is freedom.

I wince at each punch, but something in me grows, and I’m moving down the cage, my fingers clinging to the steel. I can’t take my eyes off the fight.

I reach the gate. A tall woman stands near the door. She has a scowl on her face that makes the men around her look feminine.

“I want in.” My voice is low, but her head swings around to me. She eyes me up and down. The assessment is over in a few seconds.

I’m ready to say it again, but my bravery dwindles when the girls slam against the cage. It rattles my bones, and I release the cage only to be pushed up against it again. I can smell their sweat, their blood, and I’m pushing back against the crowd.

The fight ends abruptly as one girl lies on her back, not moving. The gates open, and the winner walks out while two men carry the other.

“You're up.”

My stomach stirs, and my palms grow sweaty. “Me?” I point at myself.

The woman doesn’t wear a scowl; it’s like a smile that is carved from jagged glass.

“Yeah, you.”

The jeers erupt again and move closer to the cage door. “Will my opponent be the same size?”

A laugh falls from the woman’s mouth, and she points at the gate. I’m moving. I’m walking through it, and the gate slams behind me. I’m meeting all the eyes of the people who are geared up for a fight. The gate across from me closes, and I turn to my opponent.

I frown and turn to the laughing woman. “He’s a man.”

“That’s debatable. Fight!” Her roar engulfs the crowd, and I face the man. He isn’t well built, but he’s grinning as he walks towards