Page 38 of From Best To Bested

“He’s really okay?” Roman finally asked, looking up at Ezra with sad eyes.

“Yes, he’s fine.” Ezra smiled. “People grow and change. Take a look at yourself.”

Roman didn’t consider his change growth. He felt like he’d shrunk and crumbled the last six months. He was a weak flower withering away in the harsh winter.

Levi looked at Roman only once. His cold blue eyes turned glossy for a moment when he locked onto Roman, but then he blinked away the sadness, and Levi’s eyes turned stoic again before he vanished into the thicket of the crowd.

Roman sat quietly, burying his concerns for Levi, and barely focused on the rest of the arena battles. That was until they called for the champion.

Ezra stood tall, taking in the roar of the crowd, then turned to Roman, who remained knelt on his pillow. Brushing aside ruffled pink bangs, Ezra kissed Roman on the forehead, much to his shame. It wouldn’t have been half as humiliating if the crowd hadn’t ooooed and snickered.

Since Ezra invited Roman to join him at the arena moving forward, it proved difficult in every way. This was his former stomping grounds. This was a place he held in check for a year. This was a place where people from across the world gathered to watch him fight. Now, the elite clientele who watched from the balcony in animal masks held no regard for Roman. Worse, some of them held pity or pleasure in his circumstances.

Ignoring the feelings and everything else that consumed him, Roman did what he did best in life, what he was made for in life: he cheered on Ezra. He hoped for the best and gave words of encouragement in between rounds. Ezra’s happiness wasRoman’s happiness, and when an opponent got a lucky shot in and cracked Ezra’s ribs, Roman trembled.

Ezra treated Roman well, Roman learned to behave, and life had gotten so much better. But when the crowd turned against Ezra, when someone taunted him just right, Ezra would sometimes be swept with rage that lasted the entire night. Roman didn’t enjoy himself on those nights, and he tried his best to make Ezra forget the slights, the insults, the injuries. It only occasionally worked in his favor.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Ezra to turn the match around and win back the crowd. He pummeled his way through the next set of opponents, and when the Challenger’s Chance rounds started up, Ezra unleashed all his fury on those foolish enough to come for his crown.

Roman breathed easy at that, grateful the anger had subsided.

After the final challenger had lost and no one else was left to fight, Ezra basked in the roar of the crowd, walking the arena and circling close to the crowd of inmates in attendance. Roman spotted Levi a second time for the night, standing close to a guy with a furrowed brow and a hateful expression. It looked like Levi was trying to talk the guy down; Roman recalled how Levi often brought levity to difficult situations, deflecting conflict with humor. But it wasn’t working with this guy. Levi slipped away in the crowd again, and the angry man leapt forward when Ezra crossed his path.

From out of nowhere, he swung a knife, slashing Ezra’s face. Blood splattered. Red filled Roman’s vision. The crowd went silent. Rage and hatred consumed Ezra’s expression. Roman trembled. He didn’t know what to do or how to help. He watched Ezra leap back, evading the erratic swipes of a knife. An actual knife. This wasn’t some shiv. This man somehow got ahold of a fucking eight-inch kitchen knife. The crowd went wild. Theauthority above disappeared into darkness. Guards funneled inside. Chaos controlled the inmates, and they blocked a path, drawn to random violence over any type of civility. Ezra was on his own, dodging the knife, and clearly a bit too winded from so many rounds throughout the night.

Finally, Ezra managed to knock the knife from the man’s hand, but before he could drop him, the outraged inmate reached for a second blade, this one a short shiv, which would still prove difficult for Ezra. Roman saw it on his face, the annoyance over the concern, but Ezra raised his fists and prepared to knock away the second weapon.

Only he didn’t have to. Order hadn’t been restored, but someone swept in close behind the deranged inmate and stabbed him in the chest with his kitchen knife. Whoever it was took their tattooed hand and squeezed the shiv out of the inmate’s other hand before forcing him to grab the knife and knocking him to the ground. By the time the guards broke a line through the crowd, it appeared as if the man had fallen onto his knife.

Roman’s eyes went wide when he saw Jake standing over the corpse, a smile on his face and a hand on Ezra’s shoulder.

The friendly words of gratitude Ezra gave Jake were all Roman heard before the noise of the crowd flooded his hearing.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’m gonna be chilling with Finnegan and his crew today,” Ezra said as he adjusted his pants.

Roman wiped the spit from his mouth and stretched his jaw loose for a moment. He took in the scar on Ezra’s face; it’d changed his appearance but not his personality. The deep cut didn’t sour Ezra’s mood. A long slash above his right eye that reached down to his sharp jawline. There was no bitterness or shame, at least none that Ezra directed toward Roman, and he considered himself fortunate that Ezra’s spirits remained high.

“You got business with them?” Roman asked, cautious but curious. It was important he tread both when talking with Ezra. Ezra liked his interest in his work as the new reigning champion, but Roman also had to remember his place and how Ezra couldn’t disclose everything to him.

“No business, just hanging.”

“Hanging out with Jake the Snake for fun.” Roman recoiled at the idea, finding Jake a literal stain on the world.

“The snake.” Ezra rolled his eyes. “His pecker’s not that impressive.”

Ezra’s gaze dropped to his own massive dick tucked away in his pants and made a flirty face. Roman realized he was alluding to the fact Ezra was the only one with a real snake in their pants. Without prompting, Roman laughed, which made Ezra smile.

“I know he helped you, but Jake’s a snake for more reasons than his own hyped press on his dick,” Roman said, noticing Ezra had been lending an ear to Jake more often since his assistance at the arena where an inmate almost gutted the champion.

“Sometimes folks have a bad rep.” Ezra shrugged. “Look, I know he annoys you, so I’m not making you come.”

“Thank you.”

“But you still need to get out.” Ezra brushed aside Roman’s damp pink bangs and kissed his forehead. “If you’re not at my side, you’re just locking yourself in the room all day.”

“I prefer the quiet.”

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