Page 61 of Possession

“I don’t know, I swear!”

“Who runs this prison?”

“I don’t know!” Crowley sobs.

“Fucking tell me something or—”

“Oscar said it was an underground fighting ring. The fights were some kind of gladiatorial thing.”

I don’t know what I was expecting from this interrogation, but for some reason, I wasn’t actually expecting it to be about me. Not like this.

When I start pacing, Vitali’s dark eyes flick to me, then he refocuses on Crowley.

“What do you mean, a gladiatorial thing?”

“Fight. Big fights. To the death. Lots of money.”

It flashes through my mind. The harsh light in a dark place. The circular stone walls containing us, separating us from the spectators above. The sand. The blood. The screams.

“And your cousin acquired my brother”—Vitali doesn’t want to say bought—“from this … prison. How?”

“He paid for him. Millions. He’d seen him fight. Oscar had no idea he was a Constantine! He never would’ve—”

“What did Oscar want with him?” Vitali’s voice is getting sharper.

“To make him fight. For money. He was unbeatable. They called him the Beast. He’d been fighting in the prison arena for years.”

I’m still pacing, but it’s not helping. I don’t have my punching bag. I don’t have my quiet space. I don’t have Lucas.

Everything inside me is winding up tighter and tighter. More pressure. More heat. More anger.

Why is Vitali asking about this?

“And how did my brother end up in this prison?” Vitali demands. His voice is sharp but controlled.

I’m not controlled, however. Even seeing that someone new has entered the shower area barely registers with me. Even though I know who it is and that his hand is hovering by his gun. Maybe my uncle sees what Vitali doesn’t, that I’m about snap.

Crowley blubbers, “I don’t know. I don’t know if Oscar even knew. He didn’t know who your brother was. Your brother never said. Oscar said he didn’t speak at all. Iswear, Oscar would never have bought him if he’d known—please, we can make a deal.”

“Your men came onto my property. They drove through my gate trying to kill my brother.”

But not just me. Lucas too. He could’ve died that night.

I reach Crowley in three strides. With a roar, I yank him and the chair he’s bound to off the ground. Vitali leaps back as I slamthe screaming man to the ground. His head cracks on the tiles. I pick him up and slam him again.

And again.

I lose track of what I’m doing. When I snap like this, my rage distills itself. There’s nothing else in me.

This is why I survived the prison arena.

This is why they called me the Beast.

The chair breaks away and rebounds so hard it flies over my shoulder. I don’t stop. Blood is splattering. The body is limp. When it’s no longer satisfying to slam it on the tiles, I sling it across the shower bay with a roar.

People skitter back as I wheel on them.

They’ve forgotten to collar me. I can kill them all.

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