Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“What? Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? I know cage fights are dangerous, but it’s not like people die every day, do they?” Corvus asks, pushing the soup toward me.
I grab a spoon and dig in. “I mean, yeah, but I took part in some special fights. My dad, he… have I mentioned he was a gambler? I was good at fighting, had the wrestling experience, did MMA, and a friend of his suggested underground fights were where the stakes are higher, and you could win big.
“We already argued like hell back then, but suddenly, money could be made, and he was able to overlook that I was gay. Most of the fights were just brutal, with the risk of death, sure, but without it being the aim. But as things escalated, we got deeper into that scene, and new doors opened up.”
I drift off a little in my mind as the dark cloud of memories gathers over me. “It’s during one of those fights I killed someone for the first time. It wasn’t the best time in my life in general, but Dad was betting big, we were raking in the cash, and I just… I don’t know. I lived one day at a time.”
Corvus is very quiet, and he doesn’t even touch his sandwich as he watches me, eyes pinned to my face as if he suspects I might disappear if he takes them off me. “Are you shitting me?” he eventually asks. “Your father gambled with your life in fights to the death?”
I slurp more soup as I mull over the question. “It does sound really bad when you put it like that. But I was good at it, so I guess it made sense to him, since I didn’t really finish high school. I do wish he put away some of the money, but no, he lost so much of it I couldn’t keep track. So, for my last fight of that kind, we had this whole scheme of faking my death. It actually worked. We split the cash with my opponent, left Nevada, and never looked back. It was about time too, because you make enemies with fights like that no matter if you win fairly or not—” I stall, and cock my head. “So maybe… I do have enemies?”
Corvus is holding on to the edge of the table, as if the floor’s shaking under us. His brows sit low over his eyes, and just before I can open my mouth and ask him what’s wrong, he grabs my forearm and squeezes it tightly. “No, it does not make sense. At all. What the hell? Who gambles with their kid’s life?” His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and meets my eyes again. “Where is that bastard now?”
I slouch over my soup, holding back a cough building in my chest to not worry Corvus over nothing. “Oh, he’s dead. Just months after we moved, he got really drunk, fell down a flight of stairs, and bam, dead. I… He was not a good guy. Is it wrong that I’m glad he’s dead? I finally got my life together once he was out of the picture, even if it took me a year to pay off his debts.”
I don’t know Corvus well yet, but I recognize the way his shoulders relax almost immediately. “I would have preferred to hunt him down next Christmas, but I suppose it’ll have to do. Eat your soup,” he adds, finally digging in himself.
I wink at him. “Aww, you care. Or does the soup have dexo-sexo?”
He stills, then very slowly turns his head toward me, which looks rather comical when his mouth is full of bread and meat. “You need rest,” he mumbles.
“I rested in the hospital.” But I do eat faster, because the soup is delicious. “Hope my story didn’t make you lose your appetite? I figured with your line of work, I can be honest about this stuff.”
“Yes, of course. There is no need to keep secrets from me. And while we’re on that subject… I won’t use anything on you again. Not without your permission,” he adds with a sincerity I didn’t expect.
“Why would I give you permission to give me some weird sex drug? Are you into that? Those sex-enhancing drugs?”
Corvus swallows his next bite and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “No, but you might technically wish to gain immunity to certain poisons. My father exposed me to several while I was quite young.”
He laughs, moves his gaze from me to the window, and shrugs. “Mother wasn’t thrilled about it all, since I kept getting sick for a while, until my body got used to the toxins.”
“Wow, what a truckload of daddy issues between us. Mine rented me for fights to the death, yours microdosed you with poisons.” I reach for his hand over the table. “I hope it had no lasting negative effects?”