Page 5 of Kortlek

And soon enough, my theory is proven to be correct. The first round was spent with the older guy getting some solid punches in, though nothing major for the younger guy to back out. He was definitely observing and studying the older man. He allowed himself to be punched in order to find a weak spot of the older man, and during the next two rounds, it was proved to be effective.

The younger man is lankier, but also faster and more flexible, which helped him in evading the punches he received during the first round. He was swift on his feet, moving swiftly and throwing punches as if it were the easiest thing to do, and with that, he managed to win.

People booed; some were slightly impressed, though the majority was pissed given that the older man cost them betting money, which they have now lost. Blair snorts beside me, watching it all unfold.

There’s a fifteen-minute break in between each match, and the other two aren’t impressive. From the get-go, it’s obvious who will win, and I can tell that Blair is slightly annoyed with how the fighters were paired. The second and the third matches were definitely not powerfully balanced; the fighters weren’t on equal footing, not by a long shot. A rookie with a man with at least ten years of experience in both cases. No matter how strong the rookies may be, they have no previous encounters in an illegal ring; hence, their losses aren’t a shocker.

During the fifteen-minute break between the third and the fourth match, Arlo appears. He has a duffle bag with him, and I immediately recognize it as Cove’s. He drops it by his feet as he sits down next to Blair, immediately kissing the top of her head.

“Is he prepared?” I ask, grabbing another mouthful of popcorn.

Arlo nods. “Yes, although his… opponent for the night is a little tricky.’’

My brows narrow. “Why?”

“He’s known to play dirty.’’

I snort. “I mean, yeah, most of them do. But it’s nothing Cove hasn’t encountered before, right?”

“It’s a bit different. The dirty type I’m talking about is having some sand hidden, tossing it into the opponent’s eyes, having needles in his gloves, and aiming for throats.’’

My eyes widened. “What?! That’s… allowed?!”

“No one’s ever been able to prove anything. It’s the opponent’s word against his, and no one actually gives a shit to do something about it.’’

“Cove knows all of this and yet… he’s still fighting him?”

Arlo nods, a wary sigh slipping his lips, his hand tightening around Blair’s. “He’s a moron.’’

“You can say that again,’’ I mumble. “I’m worried.’’

“Me too.’’ Arlo leans back, eyes closed, as we wait for Cove’s match to begin. “But I’ve warned him. Thus far, this man, Jackson, is known to use sand, needles and to have metal in the front part of his shoes. I’ve told Cove to protect his balls, just in case.’’

I snort. “If those are his most known methods, who’s to say he won’t think of something else to take Cove by surprise? By now, everyone knows that Cove’s been undefeated.’’

“I know,’’ Arlo groans. Blair tries to soothe him, softly stroking the back of his hand with a thumb, idly playing with the ends of his white hair. They’re so cute it makes me sick to my stomach.

“Why in the world is he doing this?” I ask, munching on the popcorn. I chew on it, swallow, and down it with some water before turning back to Arlo. “We could’ve used our intimidating tactics to warn Jackson beforehand.’’

“Cove has something to prove.’’

I raise a brow. “What?”

Arlo rolls his eyes. “He said, and I quote, ‘I need everyone to know who’s the toughest shit around here’, which, in my opinion, is bullshit.’’

A laugh slips from me at the statement. It’s not surprising Cove said something like that. He’s a man of a few words, but the few words he does speak are often of that sentiment. He has the constant need to show that he is the best and that no one can top him.

The break ends, and Jackson is the first one to step into the ring.

He’s around Cove’s age, mid to late twenties. He’s not as tall, though definitely bulkier. His face scares me. He’s not ugly by any means. In fact, I’d categorize him as hella attractive if it weren’t for that look in his eyes. I’ve seen it many times, mainly on the men I’ve killed. It’s the look of pure evil, and he isn’t trying to hide it.

My heart rate picks up the pace, anxiety flooding through me like a tsunami. The gut-wrenching feeling makes my stomach twist and turn in anticipation, and I can feel my face slowly drain of all color. My hands start trembling, and I put them under my thighs to prevent Arlo or Blair from seeing it.

"What’s wrong?”

Arlo’s voice rings in my ears, and I swallow a knot that formed in my throat. He’s caught me already, and lying would be useless. But I can’t pinpoint what exactly feels off. Something is terribly wrong, as if the air had shifted around me into a thick mass of tension that sends chills down my spine.

“Something is terribly wrong,’’ I whisper, eyes glued on the ring.

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