Page 57 of Kings & Chaos

He lifted a hand to brush my hair out of my face and was stopped cold by Oscar’s voice. “One more inch and you’ll be walking out of here with a broken hand, Nox.”

The guy dropped his hand with a dark chuckle. “And here I’d heard you Kings like to share.”

“Not this time,” Oscar said, his voice cold.

The guy named Nox shrugged. “Worth a shot.” He looked at me. “She’s a beauty.”

“She has ears too,” I said.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Fire too. Good for you.” He looked at Oscar. “And you too, I’m guessing.”

He pushed off the wall and melted into the crowd making their way to the front of the theater.

Oscar handed me one of the beers in his hand. “We should move down. Neo will be out soon.”

There was no point telling him about Sam and Daniel Longhat. I hadn’t told the Kings about the journalism textbook, and I still didn’t know why. I told myself it was because it wasn’t important, but I knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Daniel Longhat and his interest in corruption at Aventine felt like a card I might be able to play later, and I was starting to feel like I might need a few of those.

I followed Oscar to the front of the theater. The crowd was already congregating near the screen, preparing for the fighters to be announced.

Beer wasn’t my drink of choice, but I saw the merit in Oscar’s choice as the crowd pushed and shoved to get to the front. Anything in a cup would have been all over my clothes.

Rock was already at the front row of the circle that was forming around the empty space near the screen. I knew from last time that there was no ring, no ceremony, no rules.

Just a couple of guys fighting it out however they saw fit on the concrete floor that used to sit between the theater’s front row — when there had been seats — and the screen where Jessica Chastain leaned against a car, gazing cooly through her cigarette smoke at the actor who stood next to her.

Oscar and Rock moved into place on either side of me like I was some kind of rock star and they were my private security detail. It was like magic, the crowd seeming to fall back enough to make me feel like I could breathe again.

“Is he good?” Oscar asked Rock.

Rock’s expression was grim, features set in stone. “He’s Neo.”

“Fuck.”

I didn’t have time to ask for a translation of their shorthand. A second later, the older woman named Marge stepped into the empty space, bleached hair teased to within an inch of its life.

Neo appeared next to Rock wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater, the tendrils of hair from the angel tattoo on his chest snaking up his neck like deadly promises.

He looked right past me, like I was invisible.

Dickhead.

He peeled off the wifebeater and tossed it aside. Some girl picked it up and sniffed it like a little freak, and a roar of inexplicable jealousy tore through my body.

“Welcome to another fight night!” Marge’s two-packs-a-day voice rasped over the crowd. “Tonight we have the pleasure of watching pretty Neo here go at it with Outlaw.”

Outlaw? Please.

Oscar was taking pictures, and I scanned the crowd as Neo stepped forward. I held my breath, hoping Neo wasn’t facing another monster like Marvin. I couldn’t even begin to process why I cared.

Neo was standing next to Marge when another man stepped from the crowd and made his way toward them.

I was suddenly glad for the press of the crowd. At least no one could hear my sigh of relief.

The guy called Outlaw was about Neo’s height, but he was lanky, without Neo’s bulk and defined muscle.

He looked like a nice townie. I almost felt sorry for him.

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