Page 82 of The Madman and his broken Princess
His terrified blue eyes darted to me, lingering on the many scars decorating my upper body. I’d survived things he couldn’t even fathom.
The loudspeakers crackled, then the referee’s distorted voice announced our fight, and a roar went through the audience. They always cheered, and then they threw up. The bouncers dragged him out despite his struggling. I stayed seated for a moment longer. I was still calm, the rage only a simmering deep inside me.
I pushed to my feet and walked out. The crowd parted to let me pass. Nobody tried to pat my back or shoulders as they did with the other fighters. I’d broken a few arms and hands in my first appearances before people knew I didn’t appreciate being touched.
“Kill him!”
“Slaughter him, Madman!”
I gave the old man a hard look. I didn’t do this for them. For these weaklings, watching fights was a way to escape the boredom of their lives. Most of them would never know pain or suffering.
My gaze moved past the cheering crowd toward the booth where I’d left my whole life. Amelia sat ramrod-straight, her fearful face directed at me. She needn’t worry about me.
I drew my focus back toward the cage where my opponent was clinging to the bars, pleading with the crowd and Remo to release him. If he thought he could appeal to my Capo’s humanity, he knew nothing about how he’d ripped the power from his enemies.
Even the worthless crowd laughed in the face of his terror.
I climbed the steps to the cage under the rising roar of the audience. The judge opened the door for me, then stepped back so I could enter. He avoided my eyes and made sure he didn’t touch me. My opponent pressed his back against the bars, watching me with wide, horrified eyes.
“I won’t fight you! This will be the end of this bar!”
The cage door fell shut behind me with a bang.
“Let the fight begin!” the judge screamed, followed by raging applause.
I tilted my head at the cowering creature before me. Maybe someone without my disposition would have felt pity. I felt mildly annoyed that I was supposed to make this fight worthwhile.
I stepped toward him when he stayed pressed up against the bars. He fell to his knees and folded his hands in a prayer. “Please, I beg you. Show mercy.”
Releasing a quiet sigh, I bridged the distance between us, determined to end this right away. This groveling creature wasn’t worth my time, or anyone’s.
I gripped his neck to snap it. My eye caught movement as his hand soared up toward my upper body. Pain sliced through my side. A terrified shriek drowned out the crowd’s unified gasp of shock. My eyes zoomed in on Amelia, where she stood with fear-widened eyes in the booth. I gave her a small smile before I glanced down at the short pocketknife sticking out of my waist. He couldn’t have picked a worse weapon. This couldn’t seriously injure me, only piss me off.
“You ruined this for you,” I said as I leveled my gaze on the man before me. “I had every intention of making this quick. Now I’ll have to paint a picture with your bowels and blood.”
I clasped his hand, still wrapped around the handle of the knife, and jerked it out. Blood trickled down into my shorts, but it wasn’t enough to be worth my attention. Using his hand, I rammed the short blade into the soft spot beneath his rib cage, then twisted it around for good measure before I sliced down.
He screamed and gurgled, his eyes shock-wide as he stared down at the knife now buried in his lower belly. I ripped it out, then stepped back. He stumbled to his feet, gasping and choking, and with a resounding splash, his bowels tumbled out of the long gash and plummeted to the floor, painting it red and brown and white.
The crowd groaned, roared, and gasped, followed by gagging and vomiting.
He swayed, his eyes crossing as he stared at his bowels. He stumbled forward, then face-planted on the ground. His body convulsed with painful gasps and whimpers. I knelt and turned him over on his back, then sank my hand into his empty stomach. He choked in agony. “Did you get the knife from your friend?”
He gave a minuscule nod. I pulled my hand out, then watched as the life left his eyes. With the pocket knife in my other hand, I headed toward the door. My side stung. It wouldn’t stop mefrom winning my second fight of the night, but it was definitely a bother.
Amelia rushed toward the parting crowd and reached me when I stepped out of the cage. Fear lit up her eyes. I walked down the steps and cupped her throat, then lowered my head for a searing kiss that filled the bar with utter silence. People stared at us, at me, at Amelia’s scarred back. For them, I was the monster who’d disfigured her, the beast who held his beauty captive. If they knew the length I’d go to protect her, they’d fear me even more. I pulled back to Amelia’s flushed face and took her hand. She flinched. I looked down at my blood-covered hand. I had completely forgotten about the other man’s filthy blood. It should never have touched Amelia’s perfect skin.
I tightened my hold on her and led her through the alley between the crowd toward the changing room, only stopping once to ram my knife into the throat of the man who’d given my opponent the weapon. I left the blade in his body to avoid more bloodstains on Amelia. I didn’t say a word until I reached the changing rooms. There I tugged her toward a sink, turned the water on, and washed her hand with soap, then cleaned mine. She watched silently, her brows dipping with deep worry. “You’re hurt.”
I kept cleaning her hand until the water came away clear. “His blood should have never touched you.”
She touched my cheek. “What if you have internal bleeding?”
“I have endured enough torture in my life to know if I’m in imminent danger, and I’m not. It can wait until we’re back in Los Angeles.”
“There are Camorra doctors here,” she whispered, shocked.
“I’m invincible as far as these people are concerned.”
