Page 117 of Merciless

“Bro,” Ez says with a wide, bloody smile. “Did you fucking see that epicness?” He holds his arms out from his sides and lifts his face to the roof in celebration.

Arrogant motherfucker.

“It was alright. Reckon I can do better.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“So full of shit, Ez,” I mutter, stepping around him as a group of young Hawks drag the loser’s unconscious body into the crowd.

“Who are yo— Oh shit. You serious?” he asks when my opponent drags his hoodie off and steps forward.

“Hell yeah. It’s been a long time coming. Catch you later,” I say, before moving to the center of the ring.

Mav’s eyes lock with mine as he closes the space between us.

My heart pounds to a steady, confident beat as I clench and release my fists.

My knuckles are busted from fighting with JD yesterday, the wounds threatening to open with every movement.

It was good. Needed after what I’d spent the previous hour watching.

But it wasn’t enough.

This though. This is going to be everything.

No words are said between us as we stand toe-to-toe.

There’s barely an inch difference in our height. But while he has me by the smallest margin there, I have him in muscle.

As a kid, he was always so fucking smug about being taller than me. Little did he know then that height meant fuck all. Not when faced with speed and strength.

Someone blows a whistle and the rumble of the crowd pitters away, right along with their presence.

The only other man here right now is the cunt glaring nothing but pure unfiltered hate into my eyes.

If things were different, we could have held all the power between the two of us. But as it is, I’m going to have it all, this motherfucker is going to have nothing.

No power. No wife. No life.

A sinister smile curls at my lips as I think again about ruining every single thing our fathers have built together.

Their reign of terror is coming to an end, and this motherfucker is going down with them.

Tension crackles as we wait for the signal to start, but fuck that.

I’m Reid motherfucking Harris. I do what I want. When I want. And fuck the motherfucking consequences.

I pull my arm back, and before anyone’s registered the move, my fist flies toward his face. It connects with his cheek, making him grunt in shock and stumble back.

It’s the distraction I need and as he tries to gather himself, I pounce.

My fists fly, connecting with his face and his ribs as the crowd screams in encouragement.

“You motherfucker,” he bellows before catching me off guard with a hard kick to my side, making my movements falter.

It gives him just enough time to get to his feet again.

“You’re not going to win, Harris. Not this time.”

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