The Mistaken (38 page)

“And which one is that, Nick? Huh? You tell me.
Which one?” I trailed after him as he meandered through his
cage.

He ignored me and took a deep breath, releasing it
in a loud whoosh as his shoulders sagged.

“Nick, you fight, you hear me? Don’t you give up.
You do this for me, okay? You promised.”

He looked me in the eye, calm and composed. “Someone
has to appease the gods.”

“Not you, Nick! Not you!” I beat my fist against the
fence, making it sway and quiver. “You promised, Nick!
You
promised!
”

But he turned away and walked to the gate.

“Godammit!”
I spun around and slammed my foot
into the concrete floor.

Nick waited as a guard worked the lock, facing his
opponent across the arena floor, the oldest of the remaining two.
As they were both released, I got a good look at his adversary. He
was an old Joe, but well-muscled, and he seemed too eager. Nick,
though young and strong, was weary from fighting the last two
nights, and his injuries made him more vulnerable.

The timer was reset, counting down as the crowd made
their wagers. His opponent circled Nick around the floor. Nick
threw me an anxious glance. A foreboding darkness lingered in his
eyes. My stomach was already tied in knots at the thought of having
to watch my little brother take a beating. Now I worried about
whatever Nick was planning, and I thought for sure I would puke.
Appease the gods? What the fuck does that mean?
I tried to
take strength from the knowledge that he had won his last two
bouts, but that hope was only a glimmer.

The bell rang, and the fight began. Nick’s opponent
ran toward him at full speed. He swung his fists with animated
ferocity. Nick took evasive action and avoided the initial throws.
But that only worked for a few seconds until he was bowled over by
a head butt to his stomach. He flew backwards five feet. His head
slammed hard against the concrete floor. While Nick lay stunned,
Old Joe straddled his chest. He threw blow after blow to Nick’s
head.

I pulled hard on the chain-link fence, calling out
to Nick, over and over. He couldn’t hear me above the crowd. I
screamed names and insults at his opponent in a frantic attempt to
distract him. He heard me and turned my way. A scowl distorted his
face. He climbed off Nick and trudged over to my cell, threatening
me and kicking at the barrier between us. I stepped back, but
continued to taunt him, hoping to give Nick enough time to recover
and stand up. Nick slowly shook off his disorientation, stood up,
and stumbled around the arena.

My attention flashed to Nick for a split second,
breaking the tenuous spell I had over his opponent. Old Joe turned
back toward Nick and tried again to head butt him at his
midsection, but Nick saw it coming and side-stepped at the last
moment. The man ran headfirst into one of the galvanized steel
poles that framed the cages. Stunned, he fell onto his hands and
knees.

“Go, Nick, go! Get him,” I yelled as I slapped at
the fence. “Tear him apart! This is your chance. Lay him out!
Do
it, Nick
!
Do it now!
”

Still dazed, he stumbled over to the man. Old Joe
lay bleeding profusely from the top of his head. He kicked the man
in the chin, rocketing him over and onto his side. Nick stepped
after him and kicked him again, this time in the ribs. Joe doubled
over in pain and tried to roll away. Nick slowly regained his
senses, the roaring crowd motivating him, urging him on. He pulled
his leg back once more, aiming for his adversary’s face, but Joe
reached out and grabbed Nick’s foot. He bent his ankle around over
180 degrees. Nick twisted over his opponent and fell to the floor,
but Joe held on firmly. He continued to twist Nick’s foot, using
his momentum to snap his ankle. Nick’s shrill scream reverberated
over the roar of the stunned crowd. I froze in helpless agony and
watched Old Joe take advantage. He stomped on Nick’s ribs then
kicked his head repeatedly, as if punting a football.

I yelled for Nick to move, to get out of the way,
but he was hardly able to cover himself between blows. I glanced up
at Alexi and Dmitri. They returned my look with smug grins. I
begged them to stop this madness. I banged against the chain-link
in frustration as the man relentlessly punched, kicked, and stomped
on my baby brother, until Nick stopped moving altogether.

While Old Joe raised his arms above his head in
victory, I kept my eyes pinned on my brother. Nick jerked a few
times then lay still on the cold floor, alone in a growing puddle
of his own blood. My body shook in absolute terror. As the crowd
roared, aroused beyond reason, Alexi motioned to his men. One
removed Nick’s bloodied opponent from the floor while the other
checked on my brother.

The guard stepped over his back, careful of the
large pool of blood. He pulled Nick’s head up by the hair with no
response. He rolled him over, and though Nick’s eyelids appeared
already open, he pulled them back even farther, one at a time. Then
he felt for a pulse, first at Nick’s wrist, and then at his neck.
The guard looked up at Alexi and shook his head before he turned to
stare over his shoulder at me with a look akin to pity.

I stared back, frozen in place, unable to breathe. I
whispered, “No...Nick...no, no, no.” I looked up at Alexi and
Dmitri in the gallery above. “Let me out...
please!
”

With a flick of his wrist, Alexi motioned to his man
standing over Nick. He walked over and unlocked the gate to my
cage. I scrambled out, ran over to Nick, and knelt down beside him.
I removed my t-shirt and gently scooped his body into my arms,
wiping away the blood that covered his face. His sightless eyes
stared past me. The fear was gone; they were finally at peace. My
eyes brimmed over with tears as I spoke quietly to my fallen
brother. I pulled his head up under my chin and held him tight as I
rocked him back and forth.

I had failed him. Nick was dead because of my poor
decisions. Because I needed revenge. Because I was selfish. I’d
traded my soul for the chance to get even, bartering with the Devil
with a life that was not my own. Two lives, in fact. Both forfeit
for my own base satisfaction. It was incomprehensible. I had lost
everything. My entire family was wiped out: my parents and sister,
my wife and unborn child, and now my brother. Even Hannah was lost
to me. And I was responsible for each one of them. A shrill scream
escaped from the very deepest part of me, a wail of utter
desperation, of annihilating failure. I was no longer a man simply
broken.

I was destroyed.

Chapter Forty
-
Two

Tyler

The crowd quieted down as they watched me cradle the
body of my dead brother in my arms. They moved in unison up to the
railing and wrapped their hands around the metal bars. Those behind
them leaned over their shoulders, craning their necks for a better
look. I scanned their faces one at a time, searching for a shred of
humanity among them, but there was none, not one ounce. As the once
rowdy audience stared silently at us on the bloody arena floor
below, Dmitri directed two of his men to see to me. They loomed
over my shoulder and requested that I move away from Nick.

I pulled Nick’s body in even closer. “No! Back off!
Keep the
fuck
away!”

They glanced back up at Dmitri who nodded. I
struggled against them, twisting my body from side to side as I
held tight onto Nick with all the strength I could muster, but they
grabbed me by the arms, pinning one behind by back as they peeled
me away from Nick. Two others dragged his lifeless body away, a
bloody trail in its wake. I labored to break the binds that held me
back until I caught Alexi and Dmitri chuckling above. Then I
composed myself and stared murderously in return.

“So help me God, I will fucking kill you both,” I
said calmly.

Dmitri cocked an eyebrow and snapped his fingers,
directing Alexi to let the last fighter out of his cage. I tore my
eyes from Dmitri and turned to the fighter approaching me. We were
of similar size and weight, evenly matched. I felt him sizing me up
as he paced around.

“Place your bets, gentlemen…and ladies, of course!”
Alexi called to the quietly humming crowd.

Again they erupted into a frenzy of activity. Dmitri
peered down at me, and I stared back in a bloody rage. My opponent
walked near, taunting me while I was still held in place.

“Hope you’re tougher than that pussy brother of
yours,” he snarled, his Russian accent thick and coarse.

I flashed him a hard stare, calm and focused now,
intent on revenge. I felt the change as it coursed through me. My
despair rapidly evolved into a cool, but full-blown fury. I would
begin with my adversary, and move on to whichever of Dmitri’s men
got in my way before I finally reached Alexi and Dmitri themselves.
Though the noise of the crowd had intensified, I tuned it all out
and concentrated solely on my new path, the new target of my
vengeance.

The timer rang, bringing an end to the betting
session, and commencing the fight. The men holding me back released
their grip and set me free. I stood up straight and faced my
opponent square on. He snarled insulting epithets and danced around
me with his fists held up like a boxer. He lunged and threw a
punch, a glancing blow to my chin. I stumbled back then raised my
fists.

I pushed the Russian’s arm around as he swung at me
again. My fist sliced through the air and connected firmly with his
sweaty face. Blood spurted from his nose, though he was only
slightly stunned. He spun back around and, with surprising speed,
ran headfirst, square into my chest. The impact knocked me
backwards onto the floor. I used his momentum to hurl the Russian
up and over my head, into a flying somersault behind me.

I scrambled to my feet and readied myself again. My
opponent was fast as well, advancing on me with his fists swinging.
He connected another blow, this time to my already broken nose. I
was stunned for a fraction of a second. Blood flowed freely from us
both. When the Russian swung his fist again, I twisted away, spun
around, and booted a kick to the center of his back, followed by a
blow to his head. He fell to his knees on the concrete, dazed and
confused. I backed away and looked up into the gallery where Alexi
and Dmitri stood.

Next to Dmitri stood another man. I recognized him
as the third man at the table at Dmitri’s Tea House. He sneered at
me with hatred, though I didn’t even know him. He exchanged words
with Dmitri then turned away, roughly pulling a woman out from
behind him. He grabbed her by what looked like a leather collar
bound around her neck. Her hands were secured behind her back. And
though her hair was a tangled mess covering her face, I knew
instantly that it was Hannah.

My heart skipped a beat in terrified dread. The man
jerked back on the collar, forcing her head up. To my horror,
Hannah’s face was swollen, covered in angry scrapes, cuts, and
bruises. She looked down at me, and I recognized the defeat in her
dead, expressionless eyes before she turned her face away in
humiliation.

“Hannah,” I whispered, taking a small step in her
direction.

They’d dressed her in whore’s clothing that revealed
bruised flesh and bloody streaks trailing down her legs. I gasped
just as my opponent grabbed me from behind. He spun me around and
landed two punches directly to my battered face. I wobbled back a
few steps, shook my head, and stood straight up to face him. Rage,
black as night, coursed through every cell in my body.

I took three steps forward and swung like a madman.
I struck blow after blow to the Russian’s face, ribs, and abdomen.
I kicked at his knee and snapped it backwards. He fell to the
floor, screaming. But I kept moving forward as the fury and hatred
swept through me like a virus. I stomped on his ribs. They crackled
beneath my foot like bubble wrap. I kicked him hard in the head.
His neck snapped, breaking with an audible pop. He was dead before
his body even settled to the floor. Without a moment’s hesitation,
I sprinted over to the cages directly below Hannah. Before anyone
even knew what I was doing, I climbed up the chain-link fence and
pulled myself up and over the metal railing. The crowd whooped in
unison and drew back.

I came to Hannah’s captor first as he peered over
the rail and crushed his windpipe with one swift blow to his throat
before any of Dmitri’s men even knew what I was doing. I grabbed
him as he flailed and stumbled backwards then threw him, head
first, over the railing and onto the concrete floor eight feet
below, all while the crowd screamed and surged to the exits,
blocking Dmitri’s guards from my path. Dmitri caught my eye, his
lips pressed tightly together. Alexi and his men pushed Dmitri from
the side, urging him to flee. They both glanced at me over their
shoulders, caught in the tide of a panicking sea of people and the
small army of guards that swelled against them.

Off to the side, Hannah stood frozen in fright. I
pushed her up against the wall at the far end of the gallery, away
from the hysterical crowd. Then I turned to the railing and kicked
it repeatedly, over and over, until a bar loosened and became
disjoined at one end. I grabbed it and pulled hard until it broke
free. I swung my makeshift weapon wildly at Dmitri’s men as they
descended upon me with their guns drawn. They seemed reluctant to
shoot into the terror-stricken crowd swirling around us.

I ducked from grabbing hands and reaching arms and
swung the metal bar against their skulls, one after the other. One
man went down at my feet, his head split open like a ripe melon.
Another staggered against the rail. I kicked him high in the chest.
He tumbled backwards, falling to the arena floor, his face frozen
in a grotesque mask of fear as he anticipated the lethal landing. I
turned back to Hannah for a moment as she crouched down on the
floor. She stared at me in shocked disbelief.