Page 60 of Dukes of Peril

Another scrambles up to take the bet, while the cutsluts to my left begin cheering, “Kick her ass, Lavinia!”

I rally the non-believers as if it were my own fight, watching cubs and DKS–even a few cutcluts–pooling their money for the victor. “She didn’t become Duchess because of blood or sex appeal,” I bark, gesturing to where she’s pelting Haley with a chest-kick. “She fucking earned this shit!”

“Yeah!” Kathleen, another cutslut, jumps up to scream, “Haley fucked my boyfriend, too!”

Despite the speed, everything moves in slow motion, not the fight but thecolor. As the crowd finally shows up, banging their feet and fists with every hit Vinny lands, I finally let myself watch. They’re getting gassed out, little locks of Vinny’s hair falling in her eyes as she ducks and kicks, cheeks flushed a bright magenta. Blood is covering her mouth, dripping down her chin, but Haley looks worse, eyebrow split, lashes wet, a welt already forming on her cheekbone.

I was right about the stamina, though.

When Haley jolts forward to grab Vinny’s ponytail, she hooks her arm around Haley’s neck anddrops.

Haley’s body slams tits-first onto the mat.

I can practically hear all the air getting knocked from her lungs, and if that wasn’t enough to seal the victory, then the way Vinny plants the sole of her shoe right into Haley’s neck, pressing down with all her weight, definitely fucking is.

There’s a long moment where the crowd roars, waiting for Haley to concede.

When she finally does, it’s with a sharp, frustrated punch at the mat. “Mercy!” she shrieks, then adds with a mutter, “You fucking psycho.”

Vinny looks sweaty, winded, and bruised as she releases her foot, eyes finally rising to take in the cheering crowd. The purple in her eyes dims, but never really leaves. It pulses to a beat that I feel in my chest, and when she walks the five paces to the ropes, everyone must feel it, too.

Because they go quiet.

Chest jerking with labored breaths, she calls out, “I know what you all think of me! My blood is North Side, so I’m a spoiled little Lucia, right?” Her mouth pulls into a bitter snarl. “I don’t have anything–anything–in this world I haven’t earned. I don’t have a bedroom. I don’t have a car. I don’t have a fucking family anymore.” Her eyes pass over them. DKS. Pledges. Cutsluts. “Maybe I haven’t earned your respect yet. Maybe I haven’t had the chance to earn your loyalty. Maybe I haven’t even earned the right to be in this ring. But these three?” She thrusts her hand out, stabbing a finger in our direction. “I’ve earned the right to call them mine! And you can fucking spread the word on that to all four corners.”

She spits, a glob of blood staining the mat, before marching back to her corner.

Where the three of us are waiting.

Nick is watching her like she just performed some act of divine grace, and Sy… he shines with pride, a smile tugging at his lips as he tosses her a towel. She catches it smoothly, ducking through the ropes, and the thing that gets me–the thing that makes my head fill with a fog of indignant confusion–is that she brushes right past me, not even sparing me a glance.

Why would she fight for me, for the right to call mehers, if she doesn’t want me?

“Nicky, get some ice,” Sy says, eyeing Haley slumped on the mat. “Remy, go check on Lavinia.”

I grit my teeth. “She doesn’t want–” But his glare is hard enough to make me relent. By the time I jump down, she’s already gone, having ducked into the cutslut’s dressing lounge.

I’m no pussy or anything. It’s not like Vinny’s the first girl I ever pissed off on account of my wandering dick. She’s just the first one I felt bad about. That’s the reason I pause at the door, psyching myself up like I’m about to go eight rounds with someone a lot bigger and scarier.

Flexing my fist, I push the door open carefully, quietly, figuring the element of surprise can’t hurt.

What I find inside makes my stomach drop. She’s in a chair at one of the vanities, shoulders slumped, back still heaving with hard breaths.

She’s crying.

Not like I’ve seen some girls cry, either. There’s no snot or sobbing or wrenching wails. She’s just staring down at her taped knuckles, tears tracking like raindrops down her pink cheeks. I stand in the shadow of the hall for a long moment, trying to decide what to say.

In the end, I say nothing.

“Get out,” she snarls, her eyes having found me. She reaches up to swipe angrily at a tear, jolting to her feet. “Get the fuck out!”

I step forward, the flash of purple building to a smolder. “Claim your spoils, Vinny.” I hold out my arms, defenseless and done. “Hit me, kick me, fuck me, I don’t care. But I'm not leaving until you do.”

What I get is a hard, jarring shove, her palms slamming into my shoulders. The weak one twinges with pain and it feels good. Deserved. “You’re such an asshole!”

I don’t disagree, planting my feet for the next push. It comes on the crest of a hitched breath, her face contorted with pained fury.

“I gave you what you asked for!” she screams, eyes wild and wet. “You said there was no going back, and then you–” Her words clip off into a growl, her curled fist banging against my chest. “You lied!Youdid!”

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