Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
“I’ll never forgive you for giving up, you fucking bastard. You fight, goddammit.”
Expression pained, Crash gestures me closer, grips the back of my neck and presses his forehead against mine. His voice is thick as he says, “That stubborn bastard didn’t listen to me. So you tell him. My last words are that I love him, yeah? And I couldn’t have asked for a better ride partner.”
Fuck me. I can’t fucking breathe, can’t fucking see. “I’ll tell him.”
“And tell him to feed my cat. I know he hates that mangy little shit, but she’s his now.”
This time I can only nod.
“All right, then. Except for one other thing.” He grins and backs up a step, raising his big fists. “You’ll have to work for it, fucker.”
11
The first match I ever saw in the Cage taught me the difference between real fights and movie fights. Yet as Crash grins and raises his fists, nothing about this fight seems real.
Instead it looks like something out of a movie—two big men circling each other. Their physiques are evenly matched, down to the tattoos they wear on their shoulders, like two action stars about to face off in the climactic fight that ends the show.
For an instant, my gaze lands on the two men already lying dead in the Cage. That fight had seemed unreal, too. Because that’s also a movie thing—the idea that breaking someone’s neck kills them instantly. Most of the time, it’s simply not true. Damaging the spinal cord might cause paralysis, but the person doesn’t immediately die. More likely they’d suffocate. And it takes a while.
Someone only goes quickly when there’s massive damage to the brain stem. That’s the kind of damage Crash and Stone know how to do.
And they seem evenly matched. But they aren’t. Not just because of Crash’s tumor and how it’s affecting his coordination. He’s also wearing a grin. But as Stone circles around and I see his face, there’s nothing like a grin mirrored there. Only resignation. Only emptiness.
But everything’s different. So unreal. They begin trading blows, and it’s almost like watching something choreographed. I’ve seen Crash fight before. It was always like how he took out the first man. Quick. Efficient. Brutal.
This isn’t. Instead it’s like they’re playing. Or practicing, with Crash on the offense and Stone on defense. Stone keeps moving back. Taking hits he could have avoided.
Like maybe Stone thinks he deserves them.
Handlebar keeps shouting encouragement with every hit. But I think he knows what I know. That Crash already told the other man to kill him.
And in movies, I know how this goes. If it’s a bad guy versus a good guy, the good guy will be on the brink of defeat before pulling out a win. And if they’re two good guys, they’ll square off and fight to a draw—then team up to take out the villain.
But this is real life. And in the Cage, when two good guys square off, they both lose.
And they don’t have much time. The clock’s counting down.
Crash glances over at it. “Two minutes, fucker! I’m not going easy.”
Handlebar shouts, “No! Stone, don’t you—”
Unleash whatever he’d been holding back. Like he does now. With sobbing breaths, I watch as everything changes, as Crash goes on the defense. But he’s still laughing, grinning. Egging Stone on.
The other man isn’t hurting him. There’s not a single bruise on Crash. Stone’s just...moving him around. Getting him into position. I don’t even realize it until Stone whips forward so fast, almost like he’s going for a head butt, but there’s no connection. Even as Crash is recovering his balance, Stone darts around behind him and locks his arm around Crash’s throat.
Then Stone just holds him. Almost sweetly. Stone’s eyes are closed, his jaw against the side of the other man’s head. His lips move, but I don’t hear what he says. Just see Crash’s slight nod. Just hear Handlebar roaring a denial as the muscles in Stone’s arm flex.
Compressing the arteries. It’s the same thing my brother does. Makes it quick and painless.
Crash’s body goes limp. Agony contorts Stone’s face as he slowly, slowly lowers him to the ground—going to his knees, holding Crash against his chest, never letting up on that choke. He presses his lips to Crash’s temple and says something else. Maybe he’s sorry.
“Let him go, brother.” Handlebar’s voice is broken and pierces the quiet that’s fallen. “You can still let him go.”
Stone could. It isn’t too late. Crash could wake up now and be okay. Or maybe Victor will have a sudden change of heart, or the fighters will suddenly revolt and break their chains. Or the FBI will bust in to save the day.
In movies, that’s what would happen. A last minute twist and a happy ending.
“Fifteen seconds,” Victor announces.
Stone’s teeth clench. Then a sound rips from him. The agonized scream of a man’s soul tearing away.