Page 60 of From Best To Bested

Levi kept up, though, unsurprising to Roman since he’d seen Levi hold his own against Ezra—at least for a little while. But healso knew Levi fought with an air of deceit for the last several months. Everything he did steered him to this match-up without actually giving away his true talent. That power revealed itself in every heavy punch he landed, in the solid counters he led Ezra into, in the godly speed he wielded. Roman’s eyes darted to keep up with Levi, shocked to see a man so bulky move with more speed than Ezra.

It panicked Ezra, too. The way Levi bulldozed his way from one end of the arena to the other. He already had height and weight and muscle on Ezra, but now he revealed he had the speed, too. Not only that, but his secret training shone through in every move set. Ezra continued making sloppy strikes, continued falling short of evading blows, and looked so exhausted Roman could almost breathe easy.

Almost.

Every cell of his body told him he’d never be free of Ezra, that he belonged to him. His stomach even twisted in knots, filled with guilt and remorse at the idea of cheering for Levi’s success. His own body turned against him, shaming him for yearning for Ezra’s defeat.

It didn’t matter, though. Levi continued winning ground, leaving Ezra more and more vulnerable. He might really win this, become the next champion, and free Roman.

The thought was shameful, to see how far he’d fallen, to feel this pitiful and desperate, but Roman didn’t know any other way.

The crowd roared with excitement when Ezra landed an uppercut. It wouldn’t win the fight, but it forced Levi back, forced him to pause and breathe and collect himself while Ezra did the same.

Levi backed up, gathering his bearings, but too close to the crowd for Roman’s liking. The crowd was never a safe place tobreathe. When a man low to the ground swept in between others at the front line, Roman panicked.

“Levi, move!” Roman screamed.

Not soon enough. The glint of the blade shimmered under the lights, red flashed across the concrete, and Levi shouted.

The surge of pain dropped him to one knee, buckling under the weight of pain that tore into the heel of his ankle. It only took seconds for Levi’s face to go from winded to washed out and exhausted, but Roman moved through the crowd, furious and worried and unthinking.

Ezra didn’t waste the fortune of his staged interference. He rushed at Levi and punched him across the face. Again. Again. Again. Each hit was more brutal than the last. Roman shouted almost as loud as the cracks against Levi’s face.

“Stop it!” He shoved Ezra off, consequences be damned.

Roman lay beside a bloody and beaten Levi, unwilling to let him die here for something as pitiful and pathetic as Roman himself.

“You’re okay.” He cradled Levi’s head on his thighs, keeping his bloody face away from the pool of blood still pouring from his ankle. “You’re okay, now.”

“I don’t think it’s a win yet,” Ezra said, encouraging the crowd to rage with him. “He might be faking it. I better finish this.”

“Stay away from him,” Roman said with an angry edge of a growl. “Stay the fuck away from him!”

“Mouthy.” Ezra chuckled. “Thought I’d fucked that outta ya by now.”

Roman glared, every fiber of his being burned with rage.

“Guess I can endure a few more rounds with you,” Ezra said with smug hatred. “Before passing you along, of course.”

“Interference with the competition has seemed to bring this match-up to a halt,” Warden Sadler chimed in, ready tosmooth things over with the authority above, the elite clientele, who probably cared more for the drama unfolding than the declaration of a winner.

“You can take him,” Levi wheezed.

“I could never.” Roman shook his head, carefully looking up to Ezra. It was already too bold, too reckless to interfere with this much. But Roman couldn’t watch Levi die. “He’s already beaten me twice.”

And a hundred times since then. Every time they trained, Ezra won. Yes, Roman held back, but only because he knew his place. Ezra beat him at everything. He had thoroughly fucked Roman into compliant submission. It was all Roman knew now. Fighting for victory or valor, they seemed like faint dreams of a past life, another man, someone surely stronger than Roman ever was.

“He only beat you because of underhanded tricks.” Levi spat blood as he spoke.

“The chokehold was tricky, but I still should’ve been prepared,” Roman said dismissively, not even noting his other pitiful three-hit loss during their rematch.

“Maybe,” Levi wheezed. “But he only beat you the second time because he drugged you.”

“What?” Roman’s eyes went wide, memory searching back to when it happened, how it happened. So much had happened over the course of this year that he hardly recalled anything outside the sex, violence, and servitude of his days. Was Levi speaking the truth? Impossible. “You can’t know that.”

“Jake’s a chatty snake when he screams…” And with that, Levi passed out.

Roman had so many other questions, but it became apparent either Ezra planned to drug Roman from the start with Jake’s assistance or shared that detail after the fact while preparing to pass Roman off as a used car.

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