Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
He doesn’t waste a second and makes a run for me.
I take the opportunity and throw the knife, but my aim is off and it flies right past his face.
“Goddammit,” I hiss.
My body is tingling, my heart is racing. I’m shaking. I’ve got to try and calm my breathing so I can gain some control.
He hits me like a freight train, picking my boots up off the floor and carrying me backward with his momentum.
We hit the stage, knocking the breath out of me since I softened his fall. He recovers quickly, rearing his fist back to hit me in the face, but I shove my fist into his windpipe. He grips his neck, gasping for breath, and I kick him off me.
Getting to my feet, I grab his shirt, yanking him off the stage and onto the floor. He goes to get to his feet, but I kick him in the face, knocking his head back. Blood splatters my boots, and I do it again.
He groans, rolling to his side. I try to get my vision to clear as I scan the arena for the knife they gave me, but I can’t see shit.
It’s the adrenaline. Everything is intensified. The lights are blinding and I’m sweating profusely.
“Fucking bitch.” He groans, getting to his hands and knees while blood drips from his busted face.
I kick him again. And again. I’ve never done drugs, but I imagine this is how they make you feel—unstoppable.
My skin tingles and the blood rushes in my ears. I can hear the whispers from the Lords watching from the second story. They want me to lose. Until you wear their brand on your chest, they want to watch you fail.
Spotting a blurry figure on the floor, I make my way over to it while my opponent rolls around, spitting out teeth. I pick it up and I notice my father across the arena.
Fucking piece of shit. I want to let the bastard down, but I know winning will upset him more.
I turn to face the guy I’m supposed to kill to see he’s made it to his feet. He stands with his hands fisted by his sides. His chest and jeans are covered in blood. He pulls his busted lips back, trying to be intimidating, but it’s useless when all he has is a blood-covered gummy smile.
I tighten my grip on the handle of the knife and widen my stance. Giving him a smile, I wait. He’ll come to me. Why work so hard when he can do it for me?
Letting out a scream, he rushes for me like before. But this time I’m ready.
I slam the knife into his stomach, stopping him in his tracks. I pull it out and he falls to his knees at my feet. I grip his hair, yank his head back, and slice his neck from ear to ear.
Stepping away, I watch the blood gush from the open wound and splatter onto my boots and jeans. I don’t even wait to see him drop to the floor. Instead, I turn to look at my father.
I hope he sees the irony.
Blinking, I fall to my knees. I’m losing my energy and fast. All of a sudden, the lights seem to flash and my breathing becomes labored.
I’m grabbed on both sides and dragged out of the arena knowing I passed. But it’s not a victory. It just bought me another year.
TWO
KASHTON
INITIATION
Devotion
Sophomore year at Barrington University
Igroan at the gnawing pain in the back of my head. A pounding fucking headache.
“The fuck?” I get to my wobbly legs. Placing my hand on the wall, I run the other down my face to see if I’m bleeding. Nothing. Then why do I feel like I got the shit beaten out of me?
“Hello?” I call out and look around. I’m in the elevator at Carnage. Of course I’m fucking here. I hate this goddamn place, and my father knows it. I’m only here when the Spade brothers force me to be.
I notice it’s descending, and the button controls inform me I’m headed to the basement. “Fuck.”
It’s my initiation. Last thing I remember is my father calling me to his office. I thought it was odd, but he’s always doing things that don’t make sense to me. He offered me a brandy snifter that I couldn’t object to.
Now I know why—he drugged me. The headache confirms it.
The door slides open and the cold air rushes into the confined space, followed by the smell of blood. More than usual.
Stepping off the elevator, I see the plastic strip curtains. Blood is splattered all over them and dripping off the bottom onto the floor. This is supposed to be my greatest fear. But he better try harder than this. Blood? It doesn’t faze me.
A blood-curdling scream echoes throughout the concrete room, making my heart leap in my chest. “No.” A sob follows. “Please…don’t…” she continues to beg.