Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,36

me like this might be a casual dance.

I swallow bile, but I’m here now. I take two steps back and cower. Laughter rings out along the cage. I hold out both my hands.

“Please. I made a mistake coming here.”

The guy runs his hands through his shoulder-length hair that shines better than any woman's. He hasn’t even bothered to shed his brown leather jacket. He’s already won this fight.

“Please,” I beg again. He’s only a foot away from me. I wait until his hands reach out before I react. I think of everything that Noel taught me. I imagine the danger I could be in. I drive my foot between his legs. He’s not like Shay. He doesn’t foresee my action like Noel said they wouldn’t if I acted the victim.

The sound is sucked from the room as he grabs himself before tumbling to the ground. The moment his knees touch the cement, the un-mute button is hit, and all the hairs rise on my body as the crowd roars. I breathe with adrenaline, and I can’t stop smiling as I face the screaming crowd. I remember the next move and turn. A part of me feels it’s wrong, but I imagine that danger is real and kick out, connecting with his nose perfectly. My foot connects, but I lose my shoe that was too big on me; blood dribbles from the man’s mouth. He hasn’t fallen down but wipes the blood from his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

His narrowed green eyes promise me pain as he rises and stiffly strips out of his jacket.

My heart rate rises, and I quickly move behind him. I had to aim for the ribs next, just like Noel taught me, but I see Shay moving along the cage, screaming, but not at me. He’s looking at the man I’m fighting, and I’ve never seen such savagery in anyone’s eyes. I’m ready to witness a man tear through a cage with his bare hands. Veins pop out of his neck, and he’s jumping as he walks.

I’m too busy watching Shay. The impact of the slap drives me back further and further before I trip and slam into the cage wall. The roars feel different this time. I want to cover my ears as the air is stolen from my lungs.

He’s advancing on me again, and this time, when I cower, it’s real, but he doesn’t pause. The crowd takes on a different type of beat; it’s like the crescendo on a song, the last step of a ladder, or the moment fireworks explode. It’s there, it’s everything, and I see the shadow in the cage with us.

The man disappears as Shay drags him away. I pull myself up off the ground, the gate door is still open, and the woman who had let me in fills it. She mouths the word ‘fuck’ as Shay grabs the man by the neck and drives his fist into his nose. I don’t have to hear the crunch, but it’s there in my mind as blood sprays from the man’s face.

Shay’s fist moves quicker than what should be humanly possible. He drives it back into the man’s face, and blood pours on the man’s clothes.

Shay doesn’t stop, and the crowd is living for each vicious second as he continues to drive his fist into the man’s face.

Horror hijacks my system as the man grows slack, but Shay doesn’t stop, even as the man’s cheek caves in. Bile claws up my throat, and I can’t understand why someone isn’t stopping this. I look for the woman who had stepped into the cage, but she’s gone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SHAY

My fist keeps moving. I don’t feel the burn that I normally would. I don’t hear the crowd. I don’t sense the blood that’s splashing on my forearms.

All I see is what I came here for. I had gotten the call from an old fighter that he was here. The person who had taken my brother’s life had finally shown up. Word had spread. I was down south, so the snake had come out of hiding.

I slow my pace, not because Emma is screaming at me—she’s another problem I would have to deal with—I slow my pace because I don’t want him to die quickly. The sound slams back into me, and it’s different. Everyone is shouting and rambling around, like ants stuck in a bottle.

Emma’s gate opens, and I meet her wide-eyed gaze. “Get out of here.” The cops pour into the