Page 7 of Immortal Throne

Clamping my mouth shut, I realized my mistake. Like Mom, Becca never liked myunusualhobby. I took her with me once to sit in the crowd and watch me, and she had to leave before the first round. Didn’t even see me take a swing. It was too grimy and brutal for her. Or so she said.

She hadn’t shut up about my fighting since then.

When I didn’t answer her, she seized her opportunity to ream me out. “You’re telling me you are still fighting in a cage, like a wild animal, for scraps?”

“Scraps? We don’t fight for food. I’m not in the circus or something. It’s for money. And a lot of it, too. It’s how I’m able to pay my bills. I’m good at it.” Or, at least I was. I hadn’t gone back since my loss and diagnosis.

I thought back to my fight with the Irishman a few days ago, and how the dizziness had come over me with no warning, leaving me disoriented and stumbling.

I still had the gnarly gash on my cheek as my parting gift.

Without realizing it, I swiped my hair behind my ear, and Becca’s gaze narrowed on the spot I was just thinking about.

“Jesus, Sloane. Does that hurt?” she asked and reached out to me. I jerked back. “It looks like it hurts.”

“It stings a little, but nothing to cry over.” I waved her hand away. As always, I appreciated her concern for me, as annoying as it was sometimes. When things got bad for me, like when I lost Mom, Becca was there for me. Even when I thought I didn’t want her to be. And friends like that were hard to come by.

She cared. She just had a strange way of showing it sometimes, but I did, too.

“Did you lose?” she asked.

I winced. I don’t know why, but that hurt more than the cut on my face. Maybe because I rarely lost. My pride was wounded enough.

“Yeah. I lost,” I said.

She sucked in a sharp breath. She knew better than anyone how competitive I was.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? You’re…going through a lot,” she said.

I picked up a fork and twirled it in my hand. The server hadn’t come by to take my order, but I didn’t feel like eating anyway.

Becca was right, of course. I had been through a lot, and the sting of defeat lingered like it mattered. Like I wouldn’t be dead soon enough.

Dropping the fork back on the table, I sighed heavily. Maybe if I didn’t think about death, I could avoid the whole thing.

A chill ran through my body.

Yeah, because Mom outran it, didn’t she?

I rubbed my hands over my face and leaned onto the table. Exhausted. I was completely drained. I had barely done anything all day, besides sleep in, feel sorry for myself, and make some calls. I could sleep for another ten hours straight.

Did Mom think like this when she’d gotten her diagnosis? Did she want to ignore it or just sleep the truth away? If she did, she’d kept all her fears from me. She’d been so convinced she’d beat it with treatment, just another example of what a complete badass Mom was.

And now where was she? In a plot down in St. Peter’s Cemetery.

Tears sprung to my eyes, but I squeezed them shut to keep them at bay. None of this was fair. I had so little to start with and I’d lost so much already. If God was real, he must be pissing himself laughing somewhere at my expense.

What did I do to deserve such a shitty life?

A gentle hand pressed on my shoulder, but I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. I knew Becca was trying her best to comfort me.

If this was any other time, I’d shove her touch away, but honestly, I just didn’t have the strength to. I welcomed the warmth of her touch, the bit of empathy it brought. She was truly all I had left. Her and Chupey.

Even when she bent down and wrapped her arms around me for a hug from behind, I didn’t move. She shook against me and I heard her sniffling as she tried to resist crying, too.

We stayed like that for a while. I’m not sure how long, but by the time Becca let me go and wiped her cheeks dry, my chest was tight from resisting the urge to sob uncontrollably.

“Hey,” she began, voice shaky from crying, “I just took a temp job at a company in the heart of the city. Some big wig. You know how it is. Secretary work. Since you lost your fight and if you’re looking for some money…”

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