Page 49 of Kings Against the World

Suddenly, I’m Jacob McDonald from the other night—on the floor, getting the shit beat out of me.

I’ve got no choice but to take it, lying on the lounge floor.

The beatdown goes on for long enough for blood to spill from my lips and the gash above my brow.

Boone’s men back off once he waves them aside. I cough, one of my left ribs aching, as I push myself up to my knees. He crouches in front of me, the grin still wide on his face.

“See, Oz, let this be a lesson hard learned. You just couldn’t get with the program,” he explains. “The plan is simple. The rules are simple. All I’m asking is for you to follow them.”

I spit out the blood pooled in my mouth, unblinking as I meet the dark shades blocking his gaze. “Who gives a fuck about rules when I won anyway? You’ve got your money.”

He grunts out a laugh. “Typical batshit crazy Oz. You ain’t gonna learn a thing, are you? Well… you better. That’s the question that remains—are you gonna fall in line and make this easy on yourself, on everybody, or are you gonna keep stepping out of line?”

I want nothing more than to spit in his fucking face. To slam my fist into his face and break the fucking glasses he always wears. But I bite down the rush of anger burning inside me, forcing myself to comply.

…for now.

“I get it,” I growl begrudgingly, baring bloodied teeth.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Consider this a friendly reminder not to go coloring outside the lines ever again, or next time I won’t be so forgiving. It would be bad for everyone, but especially for you… and your girl.”

Boone rises to full height, all seventy-eight inches. He turns to everybody else in the lounge and announces that Benz’s girls are about to hit the stage and put on a show. He acts like I’m not kneeling on the ground dripping buckets of fucking blood.

I get up as he returns to his table and everybody drinks up in celebration. I agreed to play the tournament how he wants, but I’m not about to hang around the lounge and pretend to enjoy myself.

Fuck Boone and fuck the hold he thinks he’s got over everybody.

Including me.

He won’t ever control me like he thinks he can, even if it seems like it at the moment. I ride the elevator up from the underground casino to the hotel side of the resort. I’m dripping blood as I walk down the hall and earn scandalized looks from some of the guests coming out of their rooms.

Almost like they’ve never seen a bruised and bleeding guy casually walking down a hotel hallway before.

I tap my keycard against the lock to the room I share with Zoe and step inside expecting nobody to be here. Zoe’s probably still downstairs finishing up her shift as a bottle girl.

Turns out, I’m wrong. I walk into our hotel room to a sharp, immediate gasp from her.

She’s in the middle of wiping off makeup from the night and gathering her things in her suitcase. The toiletry bag drops from her hands, her eyes going wide.

“Ozzie,” she says, stunned. “What the hell’s happened to you?!”

14

ZOE

“Me and Boone had a disagreement,”Ozzie answers vaguely. He steps into the bathroom and spits out blood in the sink, grabbing a paper cup to rinse his mouth out with water.

“A disagreement?” I repeat, dumbfounded. I follow him into the bathroom, blocking the doorway. “You had a disagreement and now you’re spitting blood into the sink?”

“Sounds about right.” He wipes his arm across his mouth and then yanks a towel off the rack to do the same to the rest of his cut up face.

“Your lip is split open.”

“Yeah… and?”

“Your cheek’s bruised—” I reach out, but he smacks my hand away, then squeezes by me in the doorway.

He’s pissed. Angry just like last night.

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