Page 137 of Steel

Pulling my cut from my shoulders, I hand it to Kiwi, watching as Keaton steps forward and does the same. “Ready to serve my sentence, Prez.”

He turns to Keaton. “You ready to hand out his punishment?”

“Fucking right I am,” the prospect replies in that gravelly voice of his before turning to smile at me.

We both step into the middle of the ring.

“You must serve your two minutes with Prospect Keaton. You’re given permission to return hits, but you’re not allowed to protect yourself from the hits coming at you. If you retreat, you have the choice of either being stripped of your rank immediately or returning to Court with added jurors,” Wraith explains.

“Won’t retreat,” I state.

He nods. “Didn’t assume you would.”

Wraith pulls his phone from his pocket and sets a two-minute timer. Then he lifts his head and smiles wickedly at me. “Let your sentence begin.”

Keaton doesn’t even give a warning before his knuckles meet my jaw, sending my head to the side. Much as I want to retaliate and defend myself, he doesn’t give me much of a chance to. He starts swinging on me, landing hits wherever his fists find skin.

Face.

Kidneys.

Stomach.

Back.

There’s not a spot on me that he doesn’t land a hit to.

My natural reflexes start kicking in after the first few hits and I swing back.

Pain engulfs my body as blood runs down my face, painting the world around me red. The scent of it fills my nostrils, and the bitter metallic tang of it lands on my tastebuds.

I spit the mouthful I have at his feet as we back away from each other for a breather. His dark, smokey eyes are full of fun malice, telling me he’s enjoying this a little too much.

Crazy fuck.

The crowd of bikers, club whores, and Old Ladies goes wild. Screaming and jeering fill the air, urging on the fight.

A glint lights his eyes, and I brace as he comes hammering at me again, his taunting laughter filling my ears as he jabs over and over.

“You’ve served your time with this juror,” Wraith yells out, ending the fight.

I stumble away, my back falling against the fence behind me. Dropping my palms to my knees, I lean over and suck in deep breaths. Agony shoots through me when I do, giving testament to how many hits I’ve taken from Keaton.

Blade steps up to me as Phantom grabs the prospect as he walks out. He’s quick in checking me over.

“These won’t kill you,” he declares. “Just cause you a whole lot of pain.”

He foregoes cleaning the wounds since it would defeat the purpose of going to Court.

I’m meant to feel it all.

Jagger and Gremlin enter the ring, both removing their cuts and passing them to Kiwi, who carries them to her Old Man.

Gremlin bounces on his feet, popping his neck from side to side while Jagger just stands in place, his arms hanging looselyat his sides. His empty stare holds mine, and I know he’s holding in his beast.

I’m more leery of him than I am of Gremlin, and that’s saying something because Gremlin is a motherfucker in a fight.

Wraith steps in front of me again, his eyes roaming over me before he nods. “You ready to face your jurors?”

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