Page 51 of Until You Break
“Skull’s a runner.” My voice held steady. “Owes a bookmaker in Naples. Goldmesh is ours. New. Fast. Mean. He wants his name sung.”
“What’s his name?” Emilio’s question came sharp.
“Tonight? Winner.”
Alessandro’s pen tapped. “Last bets.”
I pressed more cash into Emilio’s hand and didn’t let go. “Choose.”
“You choose.”
“I already did. I chose you.”
“Damiano.”
“Say it.” My voice dropped to a murmur. “Pick.”
He looked down into the pit like he was choosing which part of himself to kill. “Goldmesh.”
“Twenty,” I announced. “From my husband.”
“Logged.”
The bell didn’t ring so much as announce fate.
Skull charged. Goldmesh didn’t back up. He slipped sideways, low, fluid, then drove his elbow into Skull’s spine so hard the glass shook. The mirrored mask spidered. The crowd howled. Cheers tangled with shouted odds, money thrown onto the bar, the roar shaking the terrace.
“Watch his feet.” I tipped my chin at the ring. “He fights with ankles. See? He’s cutting space with his toes. That’s how you control a room without touching a wall.”
“You’re teaching me to fight?” Emilio’s eyes flicked to me.
“I’m teaching you to win. Against me. With me. Both.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re wet.” My whisper slid against his ear. “Don’t lie.”
He went still. Then, very quietly, “Yes.”
“Good boy.”
Goldmesh punished Skull against the wall, body, wall, body, wall, until the mirror showed cracks like bad decisions. Skull tried a desperate headbutt. Goldmesh let it land and smiled behind the mesh. Then he hooked two fingers through the eyeholes and dragged Skull’s face down the glass like he was erasing him.
“End it,” Luca sang.
Alessandro didn’t look up. “He will.”
Goldmesh knelt on Skull’s chest and set his hand at the neon throat line like he was testing satin. Then he slammed his palm down and crushed. The neon flickered. The mirror went dark.
No one pretended it wasn’t death. No one pretended to be sorry.
“Winner is Goldmesh.” Alessandro’s ledger snapped shut. “All payouts complete.”
The roof breathed. Money changed hands. The crowd laughed.
I turned Emilio’s face to mine with two fingers under his chin. “Look at me.”
He did. Eyes ruined. Mouth stubborn.
