“I … I don’t understand.” Derek shakes his head, voice cutting through my thoughts. “If you fight him …”
“Steve will kill her,” I finish through gritted teeth.
That’s the game. Her blood will be on my hands. I’ll kill my doll. The thought makes my chest ache. Just like when we gave Henley the choice to either kneel for Scout in her father’s living room or me and the others fucked Lacey. “FUCK!” I punch the steering wheel. He’s playing the same game we played with her, on me, knowing I’ll choose her. Every. Fucking. Time. If I break Scout’s nose, Steve will break hers. If I kick him in the face, Steve will do the same to her.
Derek shifts in his seat. “He won’t know …”
“Yes, he will,” I argue, my stomach twisting like a pretzel at the thought of doing her any more harm. I want to protect my doll. Put her in a glass case and lock away the key. Hide her away from the world, even if that means I can’t touch her either.
“What are you going to do?” he asks me, panic evident in his voice.
“There’s only one thing to do.” I’ve humiliated my doll. I’ve punished her. Now it’s my turn. I have to atone for my sins. Everything has a price. Even the grim reaper has to pay for the souls he collects—eternal servitude.
I release the e-brake, look into traffic and pull out, slamming on the gas and shifting gears.
“So, you’re going to let him beat you?” He grips the door handle, hanging on tightly.
“Yeah,” I say simply.
“But …”
“You worry about you, Derek.” I interrupt him. He nods quickly. “I want you by the ring and in constant contact with Dax. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“If he tells you he found her, you signal me.”
“And then what?” He runs his sweaty palms over his jean-clad thighs.
My cell rings, the sound making him jump as it blares through my speakers. “What?” I answer tightly.
“We watched the video,” Monroe growls. “Rellik thinks he knows where it was filmed. We’re headed there now. It’s on Death Valley property but in the woods.”
That’s the little glimmer of hope I needed to hear. “Okay, we’re almost there.”
He sighs heavily into the speaker. “Law?”
“Don’t,” I growl, switching lanes. “Just get her out of there and back to the house.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
GRAYSON LAW
IT’S A FRIDAY NIGHT at Death Valley. We pull up and park in the front field. The place is packed full of people. Word spread fast on social media today that Scout and I are fighting on the Death Valley Facebook page. No one knows why, but they don’t give a fuck. Everyone will place a bet and pick a side.
I pop my trunk. “Hold this.” I throw my backpack into Derek’s open hands and then pull my Graveyard hoodie on.
“What’s in here?” he asks.
“Cash. Guard it with your life.”
He laughs, but when I look over at him, it dies immediately as understanding dawns that I’m serious.
“Let’s go.” I grab his arm and drag him inside.
We’re walking down a hallway and see a girl lying on her back. Guys crowd around her, holding beer bottles. Each one is pouring them all over her. She has her back arched and mouth open, drinking it up. Her shirt is ripped to expose her bra, and her jeans are unbuttoned with dollar bills crammed down it.
“I forgot how intense this place can be,” Derek whispers.
Ignoring him, we climb the stairs and pass the chapel. Then go down the stairs to the Graveyard.
“Law!” Matthew spots me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “What the fuck is going on, man?” he asks nervously. “Why are you fighting Scout?”
“Long story.” I pull away and turn to Derek. I unzip my backpack and pull out a couple of bundles that make five thousand in hundreds. I slap it to Matthew’s chest and say, “No matter what happens, you do not stop this fight.”
He pulls back and looks down at the cash and then back at me. Running his tongue over his lip ring, he says, “Law …”
“Do not stop this fight,” I repeat tightly.
He turns his back to the crowd, holding the money. “There are rules for a reason.”
There are only a few rules once you step inside Graveyard. One—if you’re on the roster, you must fight. Two—you may not use any kind of weapon. Only your body. Three—once a fighter has stopped fighting, the winner is called. I need to be able not to fight, yet it still goes on. Until Derek tells me she’s out of here.
“I don’t know, man.” Matthew sighs heavily.
I snap my fingers at Derek, and he quickly reaches into the backpack, handing me another two bundles, knowing what I want. I hold it out to Matthew. “Do you understand?”
He looks down at it. Ten thousand is a shit ton of money for not doing a goddamn thing. “Yeah.” He finally nods. “I understand.”