11. MADDY

11

MADDY

Carnage is a large hangar tucked into the jungle. Its giant parking lot, full of scooters, bikes, golf carts, and ATVs, is lit by bright strobe lights. There's a metal detector at the entrance.

Escorted by a group of guards, Archer, Kat, and I enter the dimly lit smoky building, full of people I've never seen. I assume they are from Port Mrei. Armed guards are everywhere—the entire perimeter, around the large cage in the center, and a row of them on the mezzanine catwalks below the two-floor high ceilings.

Carnage gives me whiplash, and I close my eyes, letting the angry music that blasts from the speakers and the smell of violence take me back in time.

It reminds me of home, or at least parts of it. Growing up, there was that strange contrast between the fancy places and the subtle sense of violence that emanated from the men I was around.

Right now, I want to talk to Dad. The feeling of nostalgia assaults me so hard that I have an urge to stop this hidden identity spectacle. I want to call him. Talk to him. About music, life, about Mom. Anything but his business. I desperately want to hear his voice, because at the end of the day, he was the only person who loved me, in his own possessive way. I don't know when I turned from his little girl to an asset. But as soon as I did, I became something to barter.

"You okay?"

My eyes snap open to see Kat's concerned gaze. She is dressed in cargo pants, tractor boots, and a tube top. Her thick hair is almost always loose instead of being braided. It falls beautifully onto her shoulders and back. I think Archer likes it that way.

I search around for Raven, but he is nowhere to be seen. Two guys are fighting in the octagon, but the crowd is not paying much attention to them.

"How long does this go on?" I ask as we take the reserved front seats right next to the chain fence of the octagon, and I study the crowd, noticing many glances in our direction.

"It depends. I've only been here twice," Kat says. "But we are only here for Raven's fight."

"He is an interesting guy, huh?" I ask, trying to be cautious about how much interest I show in him in front of others, though I suspect there is a reason Kat and Archer invited me here today.

"He's twenty-seven," Kat says. "But he has the skills of an FBI profiler with decades of experience and the mind of a Dalai Lama. That's what Arch says. The guy fucking reads. I mean, not scientific stuff like Archer but literature."

I turn to look over my shoulder at the crowd.

"Mostly locals here, from Port Mrei," Kat explains, "as well as Ayana's security guards who are into this stuff. We hiked up security here, too. No metal objects are allowed. Everyone not from Ayana gets a pat-down, yadda-yadda."

My eyes stop on two guys forty or so feet away, two rows up. Baseball hats low over their faces, they are whispering to each other, but the way they quickly turn their eyes from me when they catch me watching is fishy to say the least. I wait for a minute, then turn back and see them watching me again.

Yep, they are watching.

I am either paranoid or there are eyes on me everywhere. The next time I turn, I catch one of them pointing something at me, and I'm pretty sure it's a phone camera.

Shit.

I shouldn't have come out. I shouldn't be in public, period.

The loud voice over the speakers whips my attention to the cage.

"Pleeeease! Welcoooome!" the referee roars into the mic. "Un-de-feateeeed! Rrrraaaaven!"

The audience goes wild, and there is booing too. My heart almost jumps out of my chest when Raven walks the aisle toward the door in the cage. He pulls his shirt over his head and gives it to his guard, then steps into the octagon.

He is not boasting. He doesn't beat his chest or shake his fists above him like I've seen in matches on TV back in the day. He slowly turns around in his spot.

That's when I finally get a good look at the tattoo on his back. It's a raven with an open beak ready to attack. Black feathers. Shades of blue behind it. The wings stretch along his biceps down to his elbows and forearms.

The crowd continues to wildly cheer and whistle, and their heads turn to the other side of the octagon as the referee announces Raven's opponent.

The other guy steps into the octagon, and I hold my breath.

He is a giant of a man, almost twice Raven's size, considering his height and weight. The man lifts his face to the ceiling and does some war cry, then beats his massive fists against his chest.

"Jesus," I murmur, my eyes boring into Raven, who doesn't react to his opponent.

Kat leans over. "They say Raven is unbeatable, no matter what opponent he faces. So, they keep upping his opponent's weight and height."

"That's not fair."

"The are no rules here. No one cares. That's why Raven is so popular. Except among those who bet on the newest opponents and lose. Raven is kind of a legend here."

The match starts, and I still, barely breathing, as I watch the two men in the octagon.

Kat leans over to me again. "I saw him fight once. He is a not a muscle head, but he's strong. Vicious with his punches. Calculating. He doesn't fight hard. He fights smart."

Despite her praise, my heart is in my throat. I want Raven to win. I can't even imagine seeing him getting hurt. I tuck my palms between my thighs, pressing them together so hard that they go numb.

The giant is definitely powerful, his massive fists swinging at Raven. But Raven's body is flexible, twisting and bending out of the way as he occasionally sends punches at his opponent. They don't seem to do much damage, so I wonder if Raven is trying to wear him out.

Kat doesn't stop talking. I guess she feels the need to entertain me and explain what's happening. She has this unique skill of extracting info but also feeding the info to people she has interest in to see their reaction. I should know. I've dealt with Kat for months.

But her voice calms me as my eyes are nervously glued to the octagon.

"He never mingles with the elite crowd, you know," she says. "Never did in two years, Archer said. Some of the Elites know his story and dealt with him back at Deene. They don't know that by now, Raven has shares in Gen-Alpha, just like the selected few at Ayana, and has made millions."

That's new. Sure, I knew that Raven was important to Ayana. I didn't suspect that he was rich. Rich and… dangerous, because he manages to send a vicious punch into his opponent's side, making him bend, then chases it with a blow to the guy's face, sending him stumbling backward.

The crowd roars, and I inwardly cheer for Raven.

"You know, everyone thinks Zion would have a tough time without Archer," Kat continues. "But it would be a fucking disaster without Raven. At least for some time."

I snap my head to look at Kat. I can't believe she actually said that, considering she worships her boyfriend.

She only smiles and looks at the octagon, then whistles with the rest of the crowd as Raven sends the guy stumbling again.

"Where does he come from?" I ask.

"He grew up in the system. A foster kid. Then was in juvie."

That piece of information surprises me. I definitely need to learn more about Raven.

"Archer told me that he used to be the go-to guy for all of Deene's upper-echelon students."

"Go-to…?"

"Anything, really. If you had money, he could get anything illegal you wanted. And he was straight, through and through. No shady hangouts. Clean. On point. Business only. Apparently, he used to date the mayor's daughter in their town back on the mainland."

That is something, considering he grew up on the streets.

Just then, his opponent sends a sweeping punch his way, hitting Raven on the shoulder and making him stumble backward.

"Ooooh." The crowd springs up to their feet in disappointment, a few whistling and shouting encouragement to the giant.

My heart jolts, my nerves on edge.

But right away, Raven ducks, missing the next punch, and gets the guy in the face.

I study Raven's muscled back, his arms, the way he cracks his neck, almost leisurely, at ease, while the giant seems to be panting and shaking off the fatigue. I can see blood on Raven's shoulder, split skin, probably—but he seems unfazed by the cut.

He gets close to his opponent, who is losing patience and getting sloppy with his punches. It almost feels like Raven is playing with him. Maybe the swipe to his shoulder wasn't an accident—he let that happen to give the audience at least a little bit of suspense.

Raven is wearing out the giant, making him angry, nicking him with punches and elbow cuts.

Smart.

And I can't look away.

Raven is magnetic in the octagon. Not cocky. Not clowning around like some other fighters. When his opponent is collecting himself after another punch, Raven is calm, assessing the public behind the chain-link fence like they are less than him.

He finally sends his opponent to the ground but doesn't keep attacking him, lets him get up, slowly walking around him. He's teasing, and that just shows how confident he is about his fighting skills.

There's extraordinary calmness about Raven. It's hypnotizing. It's alluring. It's fucking sexy. I now realize one thing—I haven't been with a guy since the several days I spent with Patrick two years ago. Raven's masculinity and the sense of danger are riling up all my bodily sensors. I used to take direct action when I felt like this around a guy. I would take what I wanted. But this thing with Raven, our deal, is definitely testing my self-control. Raven might've been surprised I agreed to this deal so quickly, but I'm using it for my own benefit. Two months of getting used to his demands and needs. Two months of getting to know him. I already like what I see—I watch his body with admiration.

Raven finally sends a vicious punch into the guy's head, and the giant collapses.

"Yeah!" Kat shouts, sticks two fingers in her mouth, and whistles loudly.

Archer smiles, slowly rises to his feet, and claps.

The rest of the audience is cheering, half of it on their feet as the referee announces Raven's victory.

Raven turns in his spot slowly. The audience roars and whistles. Someone boos and throws something at the chain fence of the cage.

When Raven's back is to me, the raven tattooed on his back stares at me again. He slowly raises both his arms in the air, pointing in opposite directions, at a forty-five-degree angle, and the wings of the tattooed raven rise.

The club explodes in roaring cheers.

Raven looks majestic. His heavy breathing makes the inked bird on his back move, imitating a flight.

He turns toward me and lowers his arms. Slowly, he walks toward the chain fence that separates us, steps up to it, curls his fingers around the metal links, and locks eyes with me.

He is only five feet away. His eyes are icy-cold, like liquid metal, almost transparent blue. The pupils are so pronounced that he looks like a Siberian Husky. His eyes catch the light and reflect it in a strange way, unsettling, bizarre, and nothing like I've ever seen before. If it were Halloween, I would've thought he wore those party contacts that can make your eyes look like a cat's.

His eyes are actually smiling, creasing at the corners, though there's no smile on his lips. Strange, truly. He seems amused and absolutely unfazed by the rest of the people as his attention is clearly only on me. His gaze is somehow possessive, saying, "I always get what I want, and I want you." It feels like everything around us disappears. It's just us. His hypnotizing eyes dissect me piece by piece until my heart beats wildly, and I forget to control myself, and my chest rises and falls rapidly.

Someone nudges me—Kat. "What's happening, Maddy?"

The crowd's cheers start fading, and in my peripheral, I see the other fighter on his feet again, his murderous stare at Raven. I know the guy will do something stupid. I shift my gaze to the guy, then back to Raven.

Raven doesn't move, his eyes boring into me.

I shift my alarmed gaze to the bloodied guy again, then to Raven, clearly warning him.

Raven still doesn't move.

"Raven," I whisper.

The other guy roars and charges at Raven, and in the last second before he reaches him, Raven ducks, twists, and rams his fist into the guy's abdomen, making him bend in half, then slams his knee into the guy's face, chases it with a punch right into his already smashed nose, and pushes him away. The guy treads backward and collapses onto his back to the loud roars of the crowd.

"Fuck, he is good," Archer exclaims and whistles repeatedly, clapping his hands.

Raven gives me a triumphant glance, then leisurely walks toward the cage exit.

"Are there more fights?" I ask, trying to distract myself from how fast my heart is beating and how badly my hands are shaking.

"Yeah." Archer motions to one of his guards. "But I don't have much interest in the others. We should leave."

Kat wraps her hand around Archer's arm. "Wanna join us for dinner at Marlow's?" she asks me.

I feel like partying. But I shouldn't.

"Raven needs that cut looked at," I say.

Archer is typing something on his phone. "He seems to like nurses," he says with a crooked grin without looking up.

"Well, I gotta go to work, night shift," I lie.

"Uh-huh," Archer murmurs, typing away.

It's not my shift, but I know Raven will go straight to the medical center. He's like an animal who sniffs his prey. And I'm walking right into his trap.