The Fighter by Leslie Georgeson

Author:Leslie Georgeson [Georgeson, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Jacob

Kenny’s thugs tossed me into the back of a van and drove into Augusta under cover of darkness. Gunfire broke out all around us. Glass shattered. Several guys grunted and fell back, wounded. Since they held me down in the back of the van, I couldn’t see what was going on. If I had to guess, I would say they’d opened fire on the military personnel stationed at the barricade. Tires screeched as the vehicle jolted forward again, heading into the city. I didn’t know how these bastards had gotten out of the city, but now they were back in.

With me as their prisoner.

Ten minutes later the van rocked to a halt. Doors flew open. Rough hands yanked me out of the vehicle and shoved me into a dark warehouse. As soon as I entered the building, I knew why they’d taken me.

A fenced octagon took up the center of the huge room. There were seats up front, and a roped-off area surrounding the entire octagon. Blood soaked the mat in various places around the octagon, a showcase of battles lost and won.

I’d just entered the world of illegal underground fighting. Gang style. Which meant there probably weren’t any rules. And people didn’t just fight to win, they fought to live. Because losing meant death.

Nausea pushed its way up my throat. I swallowed hard, forcing it back. Son-of-a-bitch.

I’d never killed anyone for sport. I’d only done what I’d been ordered to do, what I’d had to do to survive. I didn’t enjoy killing. Each time I took a life, it left another gaping hole in my soul, a huge, festering wound. Killing fucked a person up in the head. You could tell yourself it didn’t affect you, that you were immune to death, but that would be a lie. No matter how much you denied it, you couldn’t be unaffected by killing. Soldiers who returned from war were damaged inside. It fucked them up in the head. All of them. We struggled to keep our sanity, fought to hang on to what was left of our souls. Many of us lost the battle. I had no doubt that if Kenny forced me to fight, to kill, for him, then it wouldn’t be long before my soul was lost forever. Before I went completely insane. Because a sane person couldn’t kill, and keep killing, and remain sane. Violence had been forced upon me at the age of thirteen when The General had recruited me into The Company. But that innocent boy was long gone. I’d been forced to become a brutal, violent killer. I’d become the Phantom of Death.

I had been barely clinging to my sanity when The General had killed Celia and forced me to take action. Saving Hazel had come easily to me. I’d done it without hesitation. She was all that was good and pure in this world. If The General hadn’t forced my hand, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Hazel had helped bring light back into my dark, fucked-up world.

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