Page 115 of The Wrecked One

44

OLIVER

Our Uber from the safe house to the island, courtesy of Nicholas Barbier, was a Sikorsky Black Hawk. I’d lost count the number of times I’d been inside this type of helo. Outfitted to fit two pilots, two gunners, and up to eleven seated troops, we’d filled all eleven seats.

Nicholas had sent Carter a not-a-request-request from Stef Soren hours before we set to leave. Basically, anyone who’d been on the ground the day everything went FUBAR in Thailand had to be present, or they wouldn’t show up for the fight. Which meant Mason was also with us.

There was one more passenger on that helo as well, most definitely not on our team, but now back in my life.

Based on Soren’s last-minute ultimatum—or temper tantrum, as the case may be—Carter negotiated with Nicholas to allow my dad to join us. I was still surprised he was really there, but not too shocked he’d gone behind my back to coordinate it all with Mya.

The sun was no longer present in the sky, but night had yet to make its claim, so there was still enough light to make everyone and everything out. As we exited the bird, I noticed the Sorens were already there waiting.

It already looked like we were in a war-torn area. The few buildings off in the distance appeared to be on their last leg, with boarded-up windows and graffiti everywhere. People had definitely once lived, or at least worked here. They’d left their mark on the island by destroying it. Although, it was a man-made island, and we were about to wipe the place off the map for good anyway.

“They’re here,” Mya said as we watched the Black Hawk take off from a safe distance.

Guess no lift home.

She looped her arm with mine, drawing herself up against me as we both stared off in the distance at our enemies, which included her parents.

I’d be having words with her parents at some point, starting with my fist connecting with her father’s jaw. First, though, first I had to deal with Hugo and the others.

Shockingly, Sylvester had lived to see another day. The Sorens were too far away from where we stood for me to see if Sly was roughed up or not, but he was definitely still alive and kicking. I wasn’t sure what that meant for our suspected insider, or what might happen with the Sorens later, but I assumed we’d eventually find out.

Aside from the Vanzettis and Sorens, only the two bodyguards from the hotel were there.

Yeah, you left the rest of your support team on the outskirts for part two, didn’t you? Like Raymond Fucking Pecker.

The whomp! whomp! whomp! of the blades of our two helos continued to chop the air, the Sorens’ birds taking off to join ours back on the mainland.

I faced Mya, checking on her yet again. It wasn’t every day our enemy was related to someone on our team, and in a big fucking way, too. “You okay?” I mouthed.

She nodded. Such a bad liar.

With the Black Hawks farther away, I overheard Jack remark, “Welcome to the jungle.”

I looked up into the sky, catching sight of three small drones buzzing over us. The guests at The Sapphire were already watching us. Probably making bets.

“We really are being thrown into this Hunger Games-style,” Mason said, standing protectively on the other side of Mya.

“It’s Nicholas. He’s calling,” Carter announced. “And I’m in a three-way, presumably with Stef.”

“Yeah, not the three-way I’d like to be in,” Jack joked, somehow staying calm in the face of the storm about to come as Carter placed the call on speaker.

“Dominick. Soren. Building B just near you both is where the arena is,” Nicholas cut to it. “The cameras are already set up inside, as well as a dropdown screen on one wall where your virtual ref is waiting for you with next steps.”

Virtual ref? I didn’t blame Nicholas for not wanting any of his people there, knowing war was on the horizon at the end of round three of the fight, but . . .

“Oh, and, Soren?” Nicholas’s dramatic pause wasn’t lost on any of us.

A reality show. Been there, done that, and here we are again. Based on the look on Jack’s face, he was having the same flashbacks I was.

“Stay on your side of the octagon during the fight. No exchanges before then. Not so much as a breath between you two aside from our two contenders once they step inside the ring. Hugo can have you in his corner, if you wish, as we made an exception for Oliver.”

That “exception” gave me a firm nod of, I’ve got your back, which I appreciated.

“Once the ref watching over the camera calls a start to the fight, there are no rules, aside from stopping at the end of each round when he rings the bell,” Nicholas went on. “Oh, and one more thing, Soren, I learned you attempted to undermine the evening by offering money to Brutus Uri in exchange for hiding your arsenal here on the island in advance.”

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