Page 20 of Welcome to the Sins of Blackstone
A circle is formed in the middle, with others standing shoulder to shoulder, shouting for the fight to start, their whispers blending into a low hum of anticipation. The walls dripwith condensation, the dim overhead lights casting an almost theatrical glow in the center.
Massimo kisses me one more time then rips off his T-shirt, and I try to keep my eyes anywhere but on his chest. But it’s impossible.
He moves through the crowd to stand in the middle, in front of Liam. His muscles taut, a smirk playing at his lips. His body is all tension and intent, shoulders rolled back, chest rising slow and deliberate. Ink crawls over his ribs, black lines that feel like warnings as much as stories. The tattoos sprawl over his arms and across his ribs, which I want to travel my finger over. My eyes follow the sharp lines of his torso, the deep ridges of muscle leading lower.
I swallow hard and force myself to look away, but it’s too late. Massimo smiles at me, his dark eyes locked on me like he can see through every innocent thought I try to cling to.
My breath hitches as he tilts his head slightly, as if daring me to look away again. I don’t. God help me.
My heart pounds, my stomach twists, but I feel the pull toward him. Like no matter how much I pray for strength, it will never be enough to fight the desire for him.
Massimo takes a step toward me, close enough I can see the faint bruise from a fight he must have had before.
And I’m falling straight into his fire.
He leans in just slightly, voice low, rough. Dangerous. “You like what you see, Angel?” He lets out a low chuckle then walks back into the middle.
Liam stands opposite, his tie loose, sleeves rolled up, fists clenched together.
A deep voice cut through the air. “No weapons. No interference.” A senior I don’t recognize steps forward, acting as a referee. His eyes flicker between Massimo and Liam, then he nods.
The fight doesn’t begin. It detonates.
Liam lunges first, a savage hook aimed at Massimo’s jaw. Massimo slips it, driving a fist into Liam’s ribs. The crack is sharp enough to make me flinch. The crowd erupts, a mix of cheers and jeers, boots pounding the stone floor.
“Break him!” someone shouts.
“Messina’s done!” another fires back.
They collide again, fists like hammers. Liam rams Massimo into the wall, stone sconces rattling from the impact. My breath sticks in my throat as their forearms lock, muscles trembling, teeth bared. Liam drives a knee into Massimo’s thigh. Massimo answers with a vicious headbutt that shatters Liam’s nose. Blood sprays, thick and wet. The crowd roars louder.
My stomach twists, my nails bite into my palms. I can’t look away.
Massimo pounces, fists flashing. Left, right, left, each blow snaps Liam’s head back. Liam spits blood, grins through it, then explodes forward, tackling Massimo down. He straddles him, raining fists into Massimo’s face. The sound of knuckles cracking against skin echoes like gunshots. The crowd start stamping their boots even harder, as they shout, chant, hungry for blood.
Sebastian leans close, his voice warm in my ear. “Don’t look so worried, Maria. This is nothing.” His arm drapes casually over my shoulders, but I can’t move.
Massimo doesn’t cover up. He takes the punishment, blood running down his cheek, lip split wide. His eyes stay cold. Calculating. Waiting.
Then he strikes.
He catches Liam’s wrist mid-swing, twists hard. The pop of bone snapping silences the chamber for a heartbeat. Liam’s scream fills it. Massimo slams an elbow into his temple, dropping him like a stone.
The crowd erupts again, some cheering, some cursing. A few laugh nervously.
Massimo hauls Liam up by the hair and smashes his face into the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. The wall streaks red. Liam’s body sags, but Massimo doesn’t let him fall. He drives his fist into Liam’s gut, deep enough to fold him like paper. The sound of retching mixes with the crowd’s noise.
“Finish him!” voices howl.
“Kill him!” someone screams.
Massimo drags Liam down, pins him to the floor, and rains punches into his face. Each one heavier than the last. The wet thud of flesh against bone fills the chamber. By the tenth blow, Liam’s face is ruined, swollen, bloodied, barely recognizable.
The crowd falls into stunned silence.
Massimo rises slowly, chest heaving, fists dripping red. He stands over Liam’s broken body, not victorious. Commanding. Untouchable.
And then he looks at me.
