Page 53 of Bride By Initiation

We each get a few punches in, but then I hear my father's voice again."This isn't a boxing match, Sean. Time to fight dirty."

I lunge at Diesel and grip his throat, squeezing as tight as I can.

He tries to pull my hands off him, and I knee him in the groin. He sputters, but I don't let up. I keep my grip tight, then headbutt him in the temple.

His body goes limp, but I don't release him. I can't take any risks. The weight of his body becomes too heavy, and we slump to the ground, but I maintain my hold on him until Byrne tries to tear me off him.

"No!" I shout, staring at Diesel's wide, dead eyes.

"It's over, lad! He's gone!" Byrne insists.

Another guy steps on my other side, and he and Byrne eventually pry my hands off Diesel.

The crowd turns deafening again, chanting, "Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!"

Byrne hauls me to my feet and holds up my arm. It's only when they remove Diesel from the circle and a chair is brought behind me, that I realize I killed thirteen men.

Sweat and blood pool at my feet. I don't know how many hours I've been here. The woman holds water for me to drink while Byrne massages my shoulders. Exhaustion and inflammation take over my body in a matter of minutes.

Relief mixes with dread. I made it, but what's next? Nothing ever seems straightforward with The Underworld.

Byrne hands me another bottle of water, and my ears ring. The crowd's cheering intensifies, and no one leaves. The energy in the room is as electric now as when I was fighting.

Byrne's face is full of pride. He pats me on the back. "Your dad would be proud, lad."

An alarm goes off. It's four quick bursts. The crowd goes silent.

A voice comes over a microphone, announcing, "The bid is granted."

The crowd shouts in jubilation.

Adrenaline fills me, but I still don't know what the bid means. Yet I'm not dead, and this test is over.

The scent of blood, sweat, and beer swirls around me, making it harder for my lungs to draw in breath.

I assume it'll be time to leave, but another alarm sounds.

Three long beeps blare through the room, and the crowd quiets again.

My sweat cools on my skin, and I shiver. The hairs on my arms rise, and I glance at Byrne in question.

His forehead creases in worry.

The crowd parts.

Four men drag Brax into the ring. He tries to fight them, but it's only making it worse.

One pulls a knife out and holds it to his throat, and he immediately freezes. We lock gazes and my gut sinks.

What the hell is he doing here?

He gives me his I'm-sorry look, and I curse myself. I never once made sure he, or anyone else for that matter, wasn't following me. And I know this isn't good. They told me to come alone.

John steps forward. The silence in the room is deafening until he breaks it by saying in his Irish accent, "You were told not to bring anyone here."

"I didn't bring him," I carefully state.

"Then how did he get here?"

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