Page 38 of Crown of Smoke

I decide that these guys are probably too low-level to know the traitor's identity. But they've confirmed what Lucy heard the other night. Someone close to my family helped orchestrate their murder. Someone who's still protected by the Keans' upper ranks.

“The Keans have a lot of friends,” Murphy says.

What does that mean?

“It’s clear that being an enemy is dangerous,” I say with a laugh.

“No joke,” the other fighter says, coming to join us.

“Just saying that having friends in high places helps. Like cops.”

He’s not wrong. My father had a lot of “friends” too. But I’m thinking that perhaps Kean didn’t just turn someone in the house against my father, but my father’s friends as well.

“That would make it easier to stay out of jail for sure,” I agree.

“My old man said they had a “pet” in law enforcement.” The fighter beside Murphy scratches his stubbled jaw.

"Police protection's nothing new," I say, pushing to find out how this situation might be different.

Murphy shrugs. “Yeah, I guess, but I think this guy is able to close down any questions before they’re asked, if you know what I mean.”

“Like say a fire is an accident when it isn’t?” I probe.

“Right.”

"Smart investment," I force myself to say. "Keeps things running smooth."

"Yeah, well, word is they're paying through the nose for it. But worth every penny when you need evidence to disappear or raids to hit empty buildings."

Just another day in the life of organized crime. I've seen enough corrupt officials in my time to know it's standard practice, but in this case, there seems to be one man who made it possible for the Keans to get away with my family’s murder. I need to know who that is.

“I’m up,” the guy next to Murphy says. “Wish me luck.” He trots off.

“He’s gonna get pummeled,” Murphy murmurs.

I take a quick glance toward the ring to make sure Lucy is still alive and well, then return to my warmup. I roll my shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness from last week's bout. My ribs still ache. Not ideal heading into tonight's match.

I hear the crowd roaring. My opponent tonight is some mountain of muscle called "The Beast." Real subtle. I've watched him fight. He's slow but hits like a freight train. One clean shot could end things for me fast.

I check again on Lucy. She's looking pale but determined. Part of me wishes she'd stayed home. Having her here splits my focus. I can’t fight and make sure none of the Kean thugs recognize her from the alley incident.

Maybe I should've brought Blaise as backup. He could have kept an eye on Lucy while I focused on the fight. But having two Ifrinns here risks exposure. All it would take is one person remembering the Ifrinn twins, noting the family resemblance despite our different coloring. We can't afford that kind of attention, not when we're so close to answers.

"Tine! You're up next,” one of the organizers calls out.

I nod and make my way to the ring. This fight matters, not just for maintaining my cover, but also for being able to stay in the Kean family orbit. If I lose the fight, I also lose access to Kean’s men. No one wants a loser around.

So I have to survive the next fifteen minutes in that ring with The Beast while also keeping Lucy safe. The things I do for revenge.

The bell rings, and I bob and weave as I assess my opponent. Across from me, The Beast towers. He's got to be pushing six-foot-five, all raw muscle and mean intentions. I’m no pussy, but he’s got a few inches and probably thirty pounds of muscle on me. His fists are the size of bowling balls and probably as hard.

I circle left, testing his reach with a quick jab. He absorbs it like I'm tossing cotton balls. Shit. His counterpunch whistles past my ear, slower than expected, but the air displacement alone tells me what kind of damage those fists can do.

My ribs scream as I weave under another haymaker. Last week's bruises haven't healed completely, and each twist sends fresh pain shooting through my side. I land a solid combination to his kidney, but it's like punching a brick wall.

The Beast catches me with a right hook that makes stars explode behind my eyes. Warm blood trickles down the side of my face. The bastard opened a cut above my eye. The crowd roars, hungry for more violence. Through blurred vision, I catch a glimpse of Lucy's horrified face at ringside.

My legs feel like lead as I dance away from his assault. Each breath burns in my lungs. The Beast keeps coming, relentless, and I'm running out of ring to retreat to. My arms shake as I bring them up to block another crushing blow.

---