Page 27 of Trick

He stares at me for a beat before he shakes his head.

“Every brother will take one hit and one hit only.” He says this to the room, though his gaze stays locked on me. “Weapons are not permitted, and if you don’t make it to the end, we have to do this again.” This last part is for me, but nothing is going to make me break.

I shake my hands out at my sides, cracking my neck as I prepare mentally and physically for the world of pain I know I’m about to be in. Rage might be the brother who is most angry at me, but he’s not the only one harbouring those feelings. I’ve pissed off everyone.

Blackjack steps up first, his eyes devoid of emotion as his vice president mask slips into place.

He’s one of my oldest friends, and I know how hard this will be for him. I fucking hate myself for putting him in this position.

I meet his gaze, trying to communicate silently that it’s okay, and for the first time since I came back, I see a crack in the hard exterior he gives me. It’s not pity or sympathy but anger. He’s pissed that he’s having to do this.

I force my body to remain relaxed as he scrubs a hand over his beard, pulling himself into the zone he needs to be in.

“You’re a fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath.

When he slams his fist into my gut, the pain is instant. It feels like he hits me with a lead pipe. The ache that explodes through my abdomen and spreads up my back forces the air to rush from my lungs on a strangled gasp.

Fuck.

He may not have wanted to hit me, but he didn’t hold back either.

My vision blurs for a second before I manage to straighten my spine, trying not to let anything show on my face as Blackjack steps away, making room for Hawk.

The guy is massive. He could have walked right out of a Viking saga with those broad shoulders and that long hair of his. He’s also lethal, and the time he spent as a nomad means he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.

I like the guy, and before he lands his hit, I know it’s going to hurt like fuck. Unlike Blackjack, he doesn’t aim for my gut. He smashes his fist into my face. My head snaps to the side with so much force, I stumble into one of the tables at the edge of the cleared space.

Blood pools in my mouth as my teeth press against the soft tissue inside my cheek.

Son of a…

I barely stay on my feet as pain radiates down my jaw and into my neck. That was only the second hit and already my brain feels rattled.

I steel my spine, forcing myself to stand tall as I run my tongue around my mouth, checking nothing is loose.

“The slate is clean between us now,” Hawk says before he resumes his place in the crowd.

Those few words are enough to settle me and to strengthen my resolve to get through this.

“Thanks, brother,” I say, wiping the blood off my chin.

More step up, and I try to prepare myself before each hit, but every punch adds more pain to the bruises already forming beneath my skin.

By the time Brewer approaches me, I want to curl into a ball on the floor to ease some of the pain. The brother doesn’t seem happy about what he’s about to do, and I swear I see an apology in his eyes right before he smacks me on the left flank.

White-hot agony flares through me, momentarily blinding me as bile and vomit tries to fire up my gullet. I drop to my knees, unable to bear my weight as I see double.

What the fuck…

I almost welcome the encroaching darkness slipping through the edges of my vision, but it’s the thought of my daughter that forces me to blink it clear. I won’t give up. Not now. I’m so close to the end, but my body screams for a reprieve as I press my palms to the floor beneath me.

Every part of me wants to collapse onto my face, but if I fail, this has to be done again, and I can’t go through this a second time.

On my hands and knees, I lower my head, watching drops of blood splash onto the floor as wave after wave of agony spreads through me.

I don’t think I can do this.

My body is a ball of pain, and everything is fuzzy around me. Breathing hurts like fuck, every inhale like glass in my throat.

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