Chapter Twenty-Four

Before I can blink, Luke's pulling bodies through the window. I have to be hallucinating. Whatever drugs they pumped into my veins must still be in my system.

"What the hell!" is all I can say as Gemma and Nishi slide to the floor in front of me. I throw my arms around Gemma and burrow into the neck of my best friend. She feels safe. Like home.

I can't believe Luke colluded with Gemma and Nishi to break me out of here. I don't know whether to be mad at him for putting my friends at risk or grateful for his forethought.

Gemma pushes me away softly from my embrace, stares into my eyes and whispers, "Let's do this."

I've never felt more capable of anything in my life.

Luke takes off out of the window like a ninja. Apparently, they had everything worked out ahead of time: Luke will go early to the fight to find Elliott while Gemma and Nishi stay to break me out. Nishi smiles from behind her girlfriend; she looks like a deranged version of myself. Her hair is curled uncontrollably, a stark contrast to her usually silky-smooth hair, and a thick coat of too-pale concealer covers her naturally brown skin. Up close, she looks ridiculous but, from afar, it may actually work.

Gemma turns to me.

"Time to shed that hideous gown," she says, frowning at the blue material. She doesn't have to tell me twice. I strip down to my bra and undies and toss it to Nishi. I breathe a sigh of relief like I've emerged from the deep end. Nishi hands me her sweats, T-shirt, and black hoodie.

"We have to go," Gemma gulps. "Are you ready?"

She tries to hide her fear, but I see right through her. If she gets caught playing a role in my hospital escape, her mother will have her head on a stick.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Gemma nods. She turns and presses a kiss to Nishi's cheek. "Go raise hell."

Nishi gives an enthusiastic thumbs up before slipping out of my room.

For a moment, everything is silent.

Then I hear the shouting as Nishi barrels through the hallway. Nurse Mia yells, "Stop her!"

"Wow," I exclaim. "She believes it's me!"

"For now," Gemma replies, "I give it ten minutes until she figures out it's not. We need to go."

I crawl through the window first, Gemma following closely behind. The crates are stacked high, and they wobble as I climb down. Gemma and I both land in a pile of leaves.

The outside air is rejuvenating. I didn't realize how much I was craving the wind in my hair. For a moment, I shut my eyes and bathe in my newfound freedom.

"There's grass in my mouth," Gemma complains, spitting onto the sidewalk.

I shush her and point toward a security officer on the other side of the building. I cover my head with the hood of the sweatshirt, and we walk nonchalantly, like we're two grandmas out for an evening stroll. We make it halfway to the parking lot before he spots us.

"Where are you two going?"

"We were visiting our sister," Gemma lies. "We're leaving."

The officer contemplates her excuse for a minute. Then, he stifles a nod and steps out of the way. Gemma guides me to the corner of the parking lot where her mother's car is parked. There's no telling what crazy excuse she had to come up with to borrow it this late. I sit in the passenger's seat, pressing my body against the cold leather with a disbelieving laugh. I can't believe I'm actually out.

"Here," Gemma says, handing me her phone. "Map that."

It's an address in a text from Luke. I paste it into her GPS, and she starts the car. The address brings up images of a local shopping mall; an abandoned one judging by the negative Yelp reviews. I show it to her.

Gemma squints. "A mall?"

For a moment, I wonder if maybe this is all part of a bigger, more elaborate setup. Luke's story could be another part of Damon's game.

"Stop," Gemma demands, interrupting my thoughts.

"What?"

"You have that look again like you're overthinking. Stop. We're going."

Defeated, I strap on my seatbelt. Gemma slams on the gas.

According to her GPS, the address is fifteen minutes away from the hospital, but Gemma gets us to Eastview Mall in seven. As we near the parking lot, I recognize the building from my childhood. My mom and I used to go shopping here at closing down sales. But there are more cars now than there were on Black Friday.

A few stragglers huddle around the side of the building, passing around a single cigarette. Three men. All with muscles as big as my head.

"This is the right place," I deduce.

Gemma pulls into a spot. She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, which puts me even more on edge.

"Go back to the hospital," I suggest. "Make sure Nishi gets out without getting into too much trouble, even if they find out that I'm missing. Just tell them . . . I'll be back. Okay?"

"‘You'll be back?' What are you, Terminator?"

"Gem—"

"I'm going," she says.

I unbuckle my seatbelt. Adrenaline pumps like a drug throughout my body. I hate that I had to involve Nishi and Gemma in such a mess, but I wouldn't trade my newfound freedom for the world.

"Rose?" Gemma asks, her voice shaking.

"Yeah?"

She squeezes my hand. "Elliott's really lucky to have you."

My lips curl into a smile. "Love you, Gem."

"Love you, too."

I hop out of the car. Zipping up my hoodie, I lower my head as I cross the parking lot, trying to avoid drawing any attention to myself. I slip through one of the back doors without anyone stopping me.

Not the greatest security measures for the bloodiest event of the year.

Inside, the shopping mall is crawling with spectators. Luke was right. The fights at Midtown, even the conference in Savannah, don't compare to the size of this one. I estimate about five hundred people shoved into the building, maybe more.

I'm standing in the middle of a food court. Abandoned fast food restaurants form a circle around the makeshift boxing ring. On my right, chatting with a few men in outfits much too fancy for an underground fight, is Andre. I grab the back of his dress shirt and pull.

"You're letting him fight?" I snap.

Andre gasps. "Rose? What happened? You weren't at the competition."

"Long story," I grumble. "Why the hell is Elliott here?"

He shakes his head. "I don't control him."

"Bullshit," I counter. "You told me you would keep him out of this. You lied."

"Rose . . ."

A man dressed in a long-sleeved button up slips a pile of cash into his back pocket. He's wearing sunglasses even though it's night and we are inside. I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry.

"How much is in the pot tonight?" I ask Andre.

"It was supposed to be ten thousand, but with the amount of people here . . ." Andre trails off, scanning the perimeter of the room. "I'd say maybe fifteen or more."

Shit. The more money involved, the hungrier the audience will be for fresh blood.

I press on. "Where's Elliott?"

"He's—"

Andre is silenced by the deafening screams of the crowd. I turn my attention back to the boxing ring. People are scattered across all levels of the mall, some standing on restaurant counters to get a peek at the action. I can barely make out the figure of a man who's more giant than human.

"His name is Major," Andre explains. "He's one of the first people to ever fight in The Ring. He killed two guys in a fight in New Mexico last year."

The person in front of me shifts to the right, revealing a direct view of the man in question. Major is holding his opponent—a scrawny twenty-something—by the throat. His other hand punches the kid in the stomach. Then in the face. The kid's body cracks like movie popcorn. Blood rushes from the spot in his mouth where his front tooth should be. I grimace, pushing down the taste of vomit on my tongue.

"Oh my god. Won't somebody stop him?"

Nobody does. The crowd left their humanity at the door. Andre's arm moves protectively across my body to stop me from moving, but I would be a fool to step into a fight like this one. This isn't Savannah. Luke at least showed some restraint when I hit him. Here, I'll end up decapitated.

I spot Damon and Luke on the other side of the food court. Damon observes Major like a student admiring his teacher. I dip behind Andre.

The announcer screams, "Major wins!"

A few spectators rush in to help Major's broken competitor off the floor. Blood drips from his jaw down his bare chest. The boy can barely walk. I look away and spot Luke. He nods when he sees me.

I turn back toward the rest of the crowd to find the one person I'm here for. I glance up at the second floor, but there are so many scattered faces that it's impossible to pick one out.

"Next up, Elliott King!"

I push my way through the crowd before Andre can stop me.

The sight of Elliott knocks the wind from my chest. He's a zombie. His eyes are dull, and his hands are shaking, which must be a side effect of whatever drug he's clearly abusing. Like a sheep ready for slaughter, Elliott approaches Major with his head down, his gaze trained on the floor.

Major smirks.

It's a strategy. Elliott wants him to believe that he's vulnerable.

I entertain the idea for a moment because it's easier to accept than what I know to be true. Elliott looks like he's given up because he has given up. He doesn't know where I went or why. He has nobody left on his side except for his father, the person he hates most in the world.

Elliott and Major perch about a foot apart from each other. Major growls like a dog, bearing his yellow teeth. Some members of the audience recognize Elliott and chant his name. The sound of it echoes from the towering walls. They don't want him going down without a fight.

A whistle blows.

Major and Elliott circle each other. I find myself praying for the first time in weeks. I'm not sure if it's to a god, or to my mother, or some other greater force of the universe that I can't name. But I swear to whoever the hell it is that I'll do anything, be anything, if it means that Elliott makes it out of this alive.

Major punches Elliott in the right arm. The impact sounds like an earthquake. Elliott stumbles forward, wincing as he grasps his arm, but Major gives him no time to recover. He throws a cross that lands right in the middle of Elliott's bare stomach. He topples over, wheezing. The audience collectively winces as he does.

But Elliott doesn't surrender. He pulls himself back up, sucking in a deep breath of air that fills up his lungs once again. Major grins before hitting him in the exact same spot. This time harder, if that's even possible. Elliott drops.

Then, he gets back up.

The cycle continues until I can't keep watching.

Why won't he stay down?

Damon lets out a small sound. I don't know if it's a wince or a sigh of impatience, but Elliott hears it, too. Disappointment radiates from Elliott's father as he watches his son crumple against the floor.

Again, Elliott rises to his knees. Again, Major knocks him into the tile. The dark red blood pooling around him twists my stomach.

"Stay down!" shouts someone from the audience.

A chorus of approving screams accompany it. Elliott responds by spitting a mouthful of blood onto Major's feet.

I realize what he's thinking before anybody else does.

He's not going to surrender. Without me, without the love of his family, without passing grades or a sport that he loves, Elliott has nothing. He'll let himself die on the floor of the ring before going home to his father.

"Elliott," I whisper.

Blood pools from a gash on the back of his head. For all I know, he could be dying already. I stare desperately toward Damon in the hopes that he might intervene, but he doesn't move an inch. Luke swallows like he's going to be sick. I catch his attention, and he nods, confirming what we both know to be true: Elliott's given up.

This can't happen again. I can't lose another person that I love.

"Stop."

The word barely escapes my throat. "Stop," I say it again.

A few onlookers hear this time. One of them gives me a sympathetic stare, as if to say I'm sorry, little girl, but he's a goner.

"Stop!"

This time I scream, and it comes from my soul. The crowd silences. All eyes, including Damon's, abruptly land on me.

Elliott's mouth falls open.

Major glances between the two of us.

Please, Mom. I silently beg. Protect me.

I rush into the center of the ring.