I try to pay attention, but my mind constantly strays to Dillon. I can feel he’s close, but I can also sense how much danger all of us are in.
My dad acting so natural dressed like a fool, these strange Russian men, some guy named Jake I’ve never met. If it wasn’t for Dillon, for his strength and his conviction in everything being alright, I’d be freaking out right now.
Even though I still am a little.
I see the same pig of a man at the door that was here last night, he’s still smirking like he’s got it made and I don’t.
But, he doesn’t look surprised to see me. Not really.
“Back for more, eh? Oh, what’s this… more money too? I’ll let Mr. Marconi know you’re here,” he leers, returning moments later looking less cheerful and letting me in.
“You can pay what’s owed, but no more bets. Not for you. Mr. Marconi’s orders,” he snaps and moves to the side only long enough for me to scoot through, his acrid cigar smoke choking me all the way down the dim steps. Back down towards the fresh memories of the night before.
I can hear my dad coming up to the same door behind me not long after I go in, but he’s let straight in without a word from the man who’s watching the door tonight.
Once I step into the main arena, I can see those two huge Russians in the ring and my heart leaps, then freezes when I see Dillon. He seems dizzy, disoriented. So unlike the Dillon I know and love.
It doesn’t take long for me to register what’s going on either.
They’re trying to kill him.
I gasp out loud, feeling tears welling up inside me and look around, trying to see my dad, but he’s deliberately avoiding eye contact and makes his way over to the other side of the arena, haggling with the bookie as he tried to make a bet even though the fight’s started.
I cry in anguish as I watch Dillon taking the first few blows from the two men.
Why is there two against one? Why is it…?
So unfair?
Marconi.
The one explanation for everything. I feel like Dillon’s been set up, that the whole Russian thing’s a load of crap, another Marconi trick, but Dillon did say to trust him no matter what.
Even if he’s having his ass kicked in front of me?
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to watch
Turning away, fighting the urge to cry, to run out of the place, I can see the bookie shrugging before taking my dad’s bet, even giving him the stub to prove it even though the fight’s already started.
I can see now why dad’s so excited. I get it now, my suspicion is confirmed. I know he’s lost a lot of money, even before he got too sick to gamble. I know it’s mostly gambling debts that have carried over, making his, our life so miserable. I never wanted to admit it, not even to myself but seeing him so revved up at this sickening fight. It’s crystal clear to me now.
I feel sorry for him though, despite the fact I want to judge him for it. Right now, I’m more afraid for Dillon, who’s doing all he can to fend off two Russians.
A bell sounds and there’s a break, with all fighter’s moving aside but only for a few seconds. Marconi’s men lean in to say something to the Russians, while Dillon is left alone to one side, the whole arena siding with the huge Russians, it feels like.
I want to go to him, to kiss him and hold him, but I remember everything he said and as much as it hurts me to, I stay glued to the spot, dreading the sound of the next round’s bell.
The bell sounds, and everything seems to slow down as the crowd surges forward, waving their betting stubs, screaming and chanting for the Russians to beat Dillon.
I feel my stomach turn, last night they were cheering for him and now they’re cheering for whoever they have their money on, which I’d even bet is those two Russians, I mean who wouldn’t bet on a team of two against one?
And then it dawns on me.
I know one man who wouldn’t.
The one man who feels like he has the whole world against him.
The whole world minus one, which is me.
Dillon.
Our eyes lock and his lip curl up in a tiny grin, and I swear I can hear his growl over all the other noise in the whole arena.
His eyes burn deep into me, making me feel everything I love about him, not being afraid for him and just knowing that he’s the one. That I’m his forever.
He mouths the word mine to me and I feel myself melt into a puddle, understanding that he’s been in charge the whole time. That nobody beats my man and he’s not gonna let anything hurt his woman either.
The two Russian fighters register the change in Dillon, who isn’t running any more, he’s not trying to avoid them. He beckons them over with his fingertips and they both look at each other before snarling in unison and charging straight for him.
Ordinarily, I’d turn away. I’d be afraid to look.
But this time, I know its Dillon in charge and his fists are doing all the talking, for both of us.
At the exact same moment both his fists connect with the two Russian’s jaws, every door in the place bursts open and dozens of huge men stream in, all with machine guns held level at the crowd.
The two men Dillon was fighting fall onto their backs, knocked out cold as the gasp from the crowd is drowned out by the new arrivals, making everybody turn, then slowly lift up their hands.
I’m hoping these guys are Russians, that they’re part of the plan.
Apart from Dillon and me, nobody’s moving and I instinctively rush over to him through the gap in the crowd, into his
