Page 190 of Scatter the Bones

A microphone gets shoved in Shelby’s face. “Who are you rooting for, Shelby?” someone off-camera asks.

Shelby’s pretty face screws into anare you stupidscowl. “Stonewall! Who else?”

The camera slides to Molly’s anxious face. “You think your boyfriend’s going to win this fight, Molly?”

Like a baby deer caught in the headlights, she blinks several times. My heart squeezes at her obvious discomfort. Finally, she lifts her chin and glares right into the camera. “Of course he will.”

If Shelby’s on the screen, Jigsaw shouldn’t be far away, right? Searching the people in the background, I finally spot him. My heart kicks. He’s so focused and serious, standing next to Rooster, glaring at the cage. Even in a sea of shouting fans, my eyes go straight to him.

I shoot a quick text.

Me: I see you.

The camera pans away just as it looks like he dips his hand into his pocket.

Next to me, Serena’s phone dings, She quickly checks the screen and frowns. “Aww, some jerk asked Shelby if she’s pregnant.”

Lilly’s eyes narrow. “People are such assholes.” She gestures wildly at the screen. “She looks adorable.”

The screen goes to the inside of the cage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event tonight! Reigning champion Mike ‘Magic’ Everson out of ME Army Gym right here in Las Vegas with an impressive record of eleven wins and one loss, versus the up-and-comingSupreme Underground FighterGriffin ‘Stonewall’ Royal out of Furious Fitness all the way in Empire, New York! You’re here to witness history as Stonewall steps into the cage for his first professional fight tonight.”

“Yes!” Murphy claps. “Shout out to Furious Fitness!”

Z walks over and high-fives him.

I glance to my right. Teller’s abandoned his laptop, standing next to Charlotte and Rock.

The bell rings.

And all hell breaks loose on the screen.

Fists fly. Kicks land. They’re spinning, grappling, throwing each other into the cage wall. The force behind their movements feels violent and intimate all at once. It’s hard to track everything—they move fast, and the commentary is a blur—but the sound of the crowd roaring inside the arena? That cuts through loud and clear.

Magic throws a punch that Griff ducks, throwing the guy off balance.

Cocky as all hell, Griff walks right up and slaps the guy across the face.

“Yes!” Murphy laughs maniacally. “Stonewall Slap.”

More punches and kicks are thrown. Griff goes flying into the cage wall.

“Oh my God.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t watch.” How do people do this? How is Molly sitting right there in the front row, watching the man she loves get punched? Repeatedly. And kicked. And choked.

I force myself to open my eyes and watch, afraid it’s bad luck to miss a moment.

Hope clasps my arm. “Jeez, no wonder he needed me to write up a will for him.” She winces but can’t seem to look away from the screen either. “This is brutal.”

“Yeah, I can see why he’d need a will.”

Every so often, the camera glides over the front row, catching Molly and Shelby’s anxious faces, Trinity’s stillness, Wrath’s coiled tension, and if it lingers long enough, I catch a glimpse of Rooster and Jigsaw’s stone-cold stares too.

Each time, my heart squeezes.

I miss him so much.

I don’t know if I could stand to be in the arena, though. It’s hard enough watching on television.

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