Chapter 7
The arena was packed that night.
Thousands of people. Screaming. Drunk. Bloodthirsty.
I stood in the tunnel, waiting.
My ribs were taped. My hands were wrapped.
My heart was pounding.
Mickey came over. Squeezed my shoulder.
"The police are in position," he said quietly. "The reporters are outside. Just give us the signal. And survive."
I nodded.
The cage door opened.
I walked out.
The crowd roared.
Across the ring, Marcus stood waiting.
The Reaper.
Vincent stood at ringside, smiling. Holding a microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted. "Tonight... we have a special treat! A fight to the death! The underdog who beat The Tank... against the undefeated Reaper!"
The crowd screamed louder.
Vincent looked at me.
"Remember, kid," he mouthed. "Twenty-five thousand if you win. A body bag if you lose."
The bell rang.
Marcus charged.
Just like we practiced.
He threw his left.
I ducked.
Hit him in the side.
Hard.
He grunted. Stumbled back.
The crowd exploded.
We fought.
Blow after blow.
But we were holding back.
Just enough to make it look real.
May you like
Just enough to keep the crowd screaming.
Just enough to buy time.
