Page 16 of Wrath

“I need ya to put me forward to André for that tournament, next month,” I tell him, staying firm and focused.

“We already spoke about this and the answer’s no.” Razes shakes his head and picks himself up a smoke from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, well, I’m tellin’ ya to change your mind. The prize for the winner is $200,000, right?”

“That’s right.” Raze side-eyes Peyton and I ignore his obvious frustration.

“You take what we got left in the pot from our last Burlusconi run and you bet it all on me, we could double that prize money.”

“If ya win,” Raze points out as he tokes on his cigarette.

“You don’t need to worry ‘bout that, I’m gonna win,” I assure him.

“Wrath, you ain’t had a proper fight in years. These men have been trainin’ non-stop for months. You ain’t fought none of ‘em before, and you just ain’t prepared.” He’s starting to sound less mad and more sympathetic. I don’t want his fuckin’ sympathy.

“I will be if you train me.” I let him know that I’m serious by staring him hard in his eyes.

“We got less than a month,” he laughs.

“I’m in good condition, and ya know how focused I can get. I need this, Raze.” I ain’t too proud to show him how desperate I am.

“Why?” He narrows his eyes curiously. “You ain’t got shit to prove to anyone.”

“Because that fucker, your sister was gonna marry, owns her business, and if she doesn’t buy him out for the 600k he’s demanding, he’s gonna ruin everythin’ she’s worked for,” I let him in on the truth, and him and Peyton both look shocked. “I won’t let that happen, Raze. I don’t want in on this tournament for pride anymore. I need to win it for her. That’s how I know I can’t be beaten.” I press my finger hard onto his table and lay it all out for him. I just hope he fuckin’ gets it.

“Wrath, you just said you need 600k, even if we put up the money from the run, and ya win, that still only gives us 400.”

“I know that. I got some funds of my own stashed away, I’ll have Ruck put a bet on for me too. We’ll still be a little short, butI know for a fact your dad has connections, he’s always hookin’ Brax Marshall up with hits.” Raze shocks me when he snatches up my arm and drags me outside.

“Nevertalk of that shit in front of my old lady again, ya hear?” he growls through his teeth once we’re out on his porch.

“Sorry, I thought she knew.” I look down, making him aware of the fact he’s still only wearing a bedsheet.

“Me and her got no secrets, but that one ain’t mine to tell, and it ain’t yours, either. Besides, you're forgettin’ the fact that my old man hates ya, there's no way he’s gonna hook you up with a hit job.”

“Not even if it's for his own daughter’s gain?” I stare back at him.

“Listen, no one needs to be doin’ anythin’ stupid. I can front the rest of the money we need,” he sighs.

“So that’s a yes to the tournament?” I try to hide my smile.

“It’s a ‘be at the new gym for 6 am’, and keep your fuckin’ hands off my sister. Just because you're helpin’ her don’t mean ya get to… “ He stops himself from finishing and shakes his head some more.

“6 am. I’ll be there,” I assure him. “You can get back to your old lady, now.” I slap his arm and start jogging backward against the sand.

“I meant what I said.” He points his finger at me and I raise my guard and start making some ducks and punches.

“Better loosen up them limbs, old man, we’re gettin’ back in the ring.” I can already feel the fuckin’ buzz.

I hear him growl as he turns around and heads back inside. Heading back to the clubhouse I’m feeling pretty fuckin’ good. Knowing that I got a chance to help her has put me in a much better mood than I was before I left, and now that I have Raze on board, there's no doubt in my mind that I can win.

“Where’s Aaron tonight?” I look around the crowded barroom and when I see no sign of him, I can’t help feeling a little disappointed.

“Sticking to his promise by the looks of it,” Alicia tells me, as her eyes drift across the room toward the club member who everyone calls Vike. Alicia’s got the hots for him, anyone can see that.

“I’m just gonna go see if my brother still needs a lift home, later.” She leaves us to head over to where Saul is sitting on the barstool beside him.

“She’s trying to pretend she’s okay but I can tell she’s still hurting,” Peyton sighs to herself.

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