Breaking Point

I was tired of being intimidated.

“Stop,” I said. “We’ve come a long way, so if you’re not planning on shooting us, put your gun down. Please.”

My words hung in the air. All eyes locked upon me; all but Chase’s, as he was still watching the tall man. Someone began to chuckle. I turned toward the bulldozer with the baseball bat; he was missing one of his top K-9 teeth.

The leader lowered his gun. “You got a name, Sister? Or should I just call you the Mouth?”

I really didn’t like him. I wasn’t sure if he bought my disguise, or if he was simply mocking me, but my legs itched within the wool skirt, flexing and ready to run, and my jaw snapped shut.

“No? Shame. How about you?” He turned to Chase. “Wouldn’t be Jennings, would it?”

Chase stilled. My eyes widened. They had recognized Chase, not me, even with my photo posted. How did they know him? He didn’t seem to recognize them. He didn’t say a word.

“Told you,” said Toothless. “Didn’t I tell you, Jack?”

Jack grinned sadistically. “Maybe you can test out your theory.”

“What theory?” I asked. No one answered.

The third guard searched Sean and Tucker while Toothless came to pat me down. He was surprisingly appropriate—maybe because Chase watched him like a hawk. Still, there was too much pressure in the air. Something was wrong. The three shared too many knowing glances, too many sly smirks.

They took our weapons. Two guns, and a screwdriver Tucker had stolen from Greeneville.

Jack whistled. It was a piercing noise, one that pinpointed the back of my jaw and made me cringe. Toothless chuckled again.

In moments we were surrounded.

They came from every hidden corner of the graveled battlefield, encircling us, blocking us in. Thirty or more of the scariest people I’d ever seen. Brawny and sneering, tattooed and scarred, the type you’d find in a prison gang. Those closest were shooting hard stares our direction, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. No one smiled except the guy with the baseball bat.

My breath came faster. I glanced from side to side, suddenly aware of how close Chase had become. Sean drew in as well, blocking my right side.

“See, we’ve got a problem,” hollered Jack, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve been watching you all morning. Watched you drive up in your little MM cruiser and park in our garage. Watched you change out of your uniforms into street clothes—well, all except the Sister here. And the thing is,” he said, and smiled, stepping back to join the ring. “The thing is, we really don’t like snitches.”

“I guess that’s one thing we have in common,” said Chase darkly.

“Don’t piss him off, Jack,” chuckled Toothless. He seemed as relaxed as could be despite the tension.

“Don’t think I can take him?” quipped Jack.

“That’s over,” said Tucker. It was the first time he’d spoken since the arrival of the others. He almost looked humble with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders drawn forward. “He doesn’t do that anymore.”

It finally occurred to me what was happening. These guys had been soldiers when Chase was. They’d seen him fight when the MM had forced him into the ring, trying to break him. A defensive wave rose within me. My fists bunched. I didn’t like this Chicago bunch, and I definitely did not like Tucker standing up for Chase.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Chicago boxing legend Chase Jennings!” Toothless trumpeted. Several people laughed, the anxious, strained sounds of hyenas. A few even cheered. The breath came fast and shallow in my throat.

Tucker swore under his breath. “Here we go.”

“They’re stolen uniforms,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “We’re resistance, too. We’re from Knoxville.”

“You sure?” asked Jack. “Because I have a hunch you got friends somewhere close, watching us right now. I think you’re acting big and bad because you know they won’t let you get hurt.”

My palms itched. A line of cold sweat dribbled between my shoulder blades. The circle had gone from bawdy to whispers in just seconds, and a crater formed around us, locking us in the center.

They thought we were MM. They thought we were here to break into their camp. And they were willing to hurt us, just to see if any soldiers came to our rescue.

If this many people were here, how many more were lying in wait?

I thought of Wallace’s first rule. Play nice or we don’t play at all. These boys had dialed it up a notch. Grimly, I realized there was probably a reason for their paranoia.

“It’s not like that,” Sean objected.

We both watched Chase. A veil of very controlled hostility had fallen over him. His head sunk, his shoulders loosened. A slight bend in his elbows, a slight crouch. He was ready to spring, and we were cornered.

“We don’t want trouble.” Chase’s voice was harder than I’d ever heard it.

“Hear that? He doesn’t want trouble! I saw him almost beat a guy’s head in at the base and he doesn’t want trouble!” shouted someone from the ring.

I flinched. I’d seen what Chase could do in a fight. What his eyes looked like when they went cold and emotionless. He couldn’t go back there.

“Still think you’re tough?” Jack sneered at him. I wanted Jack to look my direction instead of putting this all on Chase. My nails pinched into my palms.

“What is your problem!” I shouted at him.

“Sean,” said Chase quietly. Sean grabbed my arm and began pulling me back, away from Chase. I tried to jerk out of his grip but he held fast.

“No!” I struggled. “Let go!”

“Don’t do this,” said Sean nervously. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, or Chicago.

Toothless let the baseball bat fall to the ground, and it made a terrible clatter that echoed off the concrete pylons. He grinned again, that stupid black hole in his mouth blinking at me. He seemed excited, not petulant like Jack, but primed for a fight.

“You first, huh?” Chase cracked his knuckles. “Thought you were scared.”

“Me?” he said innocently. “I’m not scared. Stupid maybe, but not scared.”

I thought this was probably a pretty accurate assessment. He laughed, and several others around him laughed, too. What was wrong with these people? Didn’t they get enough fighting with the MM? They were like a pack of wild dogs.

Sean had brought me almost all the way to the edge of the circle when a hand snaked out and pinched my side. I yelped and kicked out reactively, connecting to the shin of a gaunt-faced boy with a shaved head. This evoked a mocking roar from the closest spectators.

Chase pointed a menacing finger his direction.

“Touch her again and you’re next.”

Several of them cheered. My heart, my nerves, the blood running through my veins, it all clamped down now. There was certainly going to be a fight, but there were at least thirty here to our four. I wasn’t convinced they didn’t want to kill us, which kept my fear, and its dueling resentment, alive.

Sean’s fist was latched around my biceps. Tucker and Chase turned so that they were back to back. I hated that Chase was still in the center, while Sean was pinning me on the outside of the circle. I should have been beside him.

There was no further warning. Two guys came immediately from the side and went for Tucker. Another came for Chase, grasping his torso like a flailing fish while Toothless took his first swing. Chase ducked at the last second, and the fist collided with the guy behind him.

“Stop!” I screamed. But no one heard me, they were all cheering.

Sean released me suddenly, and my whole body recoiled when I heard him cry out against a swipe to his burned back. I barreled into his attacker and we all fell to the rough ground. In the shuffle to stand, I grabbed Sean’s collar and jerked him toward where I’d last seen Chase. We had to stand together; it was the only way we’d get through this.

The circle hadn’t closed in; Chicago had created a fluctuating barrier, shoving anyone who got too close to the edge back inside. It was like being thrown into a water bottle and shaken. I stumbled, and when I rose,