[ featured @mystery @romance @dangerouslove ]
Caprice del Fuego is the untouchable queen. She is rich, smart, and fierce but what she wants the most is freedom. When her grandmother offered her a deal, she accepted. And she will do anything to win...
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F O U R | the death god—
C O L T
The roar of thunder resonated as my punch hit its target. My fists clenched. I socked his jaw twice. He winced and the expression ticked me off. Even a kid could have taken that.
He retaliated with two jabs. I dodged his attack and struck his stomach with my knee.
The man staggered backward, coughing as he did so. I did not let him walk too far. I seized his neck and slammed him on the dirty cemented street. My legs trapped his body. My arms around his neck.
The guy breathed roughly through his nose. His nails scratched my forearm drawing out blood as he choked, gasping for air like a fish on land.
I felt the tap and released him.
At that, the people began to cheer. There were people who booed and the crowd dispersed, searching for another spectacle to see.
I shot up straight, wiping the blood off my busted lip. I walked to the side to get my clothes when someone clutched at my arm.
"Colt, you look so cool!" It was a boy, no more than 18. He was smiling from ear to ear that I cringed in disgust.
I recognized him. He had been following me around for almost three weeks. He was hard to forget since he watched all of my street battles with his blue eyes wide with admiration and utter joy.
I frowned at the spot where my skin made contact with the boy's hand. I drew back my arm with vigor.
"Oh, my name is Eli and I decided to be your disciple."
What?
"You're fuckin' crazy, kid." I sneered. He must be nuts. I ignored the boy, changed into my dark shirt and black coat, wiping my sweat in the process. I marched to the organizer of the street match.
Thirteen was the top gun here in West L.A. He had many connections that fighting under him would get you sure money. He was a huge bald man with tattoos around his bare head and biceps. He was currently distributing money to the previous fighters and the betters when I approached him.
Thirteen turned his head to me, smiled a little and put several banknotes on my palm. I frowned because the stack of bills wasn't that thick.
"Where's the rest?" I barked in chafe. I used to earn more.
The bald man raised his bushy eyebrows, surprised by my demanding attitude.
"Look, Thanatos–"
"Stop calling me that," I interrupted before he could finish his statement. One of these days, I would hunt down whoever came up with that moniker.
"You don't get much crowd these days. And less crowd is less money. Everyone knows you're going to win. No thrill." The big man stroked his light mustache as he continued, "And street fights are all about the thrill."
