Page 38 of Property of Legend

“Because you make it more,” she snaps, standing halfway, then sitting again, like she doesn’t know where to run.

I sigh.“You paid Royal, right?”

“Handsomely.”

“Well, I ain’t takin’ your damn money.”

She blinks.“What?”

“I’m protectin’ you ‘cause I want to.‘Cause it’syou.”

She opens her mouth.

“And I’ll donate every cent you paid Royal to the church in Official,” I add, cutting her off.“Let Lex put it toward the food bank.Let it go to somethin’ good.”

Her lips part, then press together like she don’t know whether to scream or kiss me.

And just when the tension’s ready to snap like barbed wire in a thunderstorm, the crowd explodes.

“Mayor McCoy’s up next!”somebody shouts.

Sophie blinks.“The dog?”

I grin.“Yup.”

The golden retriever mix lopes into the ring with a bandana tied ‘round his neck that says “MAYOR.”The place loses its collective damn mind.

She’s doubled over, laughing now.“How’s that good boy gonna fight someone?”

“He shut down that puppy mill with his dick.”I say, puffin’ out my chest.“And he’s a hell of a wrestler.Watch him take down Biscuits and Gravy,” I point to the colt mascot from Paradise High who entered the ring.

Derby’s on the mic, voice boomin’ like he’s runnin’ the damn State Fair.“Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your cornbread!In this corner, wearin’ blue fur and poor life choices, we got Biscuits and Gravy, the Paradise High mascot with more enthusiasm than brain cells!And in the opposite corner, the reigning, tail-waggin’, treat-beggin’, puppy-mill-ruinin’Mayor of Hell,the one, the only, McCoy!”

Derby paces the edge of the ring like he’s callin’ a horse race.“Mayor’s sniffin’ for weakness.Oh!He’s circlin’!He’s droolin’!He’s… Lord help us… he’s humpin’ the leg!That’s a dominance play, folks!”

The crowd howls while the dog flops his paws on the mascot and gives him one big sloppy lick.

“And Biscuits is down!Somebody call the vet, we got fur-flyin’ carnage out here!”

Just when the crowd starts chantin’ “MAY-OR, MAY-OR,” the lights flicker and Derby lets out a mock gasp.

“What’s this?Could it be?From the shadows of Hell itself.He’s six-foot-four, dressed like your sleep paralysis demon, and carries more unpaid parking tickets in the Ville than moral fiber… It’s theGrim Reaper!”

Fog rolls in low like someone’s clearly got a vape goin’ overtime, and Royal steps into the ring cloaked in black with a plastic scythe slung across his shoulder like it’s a damn broadsword.

“Death has come for Paradise High,” Derby bellows, nearly choking on his own laughter.

Royal lifts the limp mascot like a sack of potatoes, throws him over his shoulder, and parades him outta the ring while McCoy gets a standing ovation and a Milk-Bone from one of the ol’ ladies.

Hell, I think someone’s got tears in their eyes.Sophie’s about to pass out from laughin’.

Sophie wipes her eye, gasping.“I swear, you bikers…”

“You hired us for our rep,” I say, leaning closer.“But this?This is the Kingdom.Lawless, weird, deadly when it counts.And you’re part of it now, whether you like it or not… Or you could sell the farm…”

She doesn’t answer.

But she don’t move away, either.

---