Page 43 of Death Kiss

He fails, but then I’m on a sinking spree. Four balls in a row. It’s like being a fresher all over again.

I expect Freddie to still be ogling my ass when I turn, but he isn’t. He’s jotting something down in the tiniest notepad I’ve ever seen.

Kat’s warning comes back like a cold wave to the face. Then Freddie looks up and hits me with a smile that could flood the room if I didn’t have panties on.

I’ll worry about that later…

Definitely later.

NINETEEN

LIAM

It’s hard not to be afraid when faced with the sight of nineteen other men, knowing only one of us will remain in this world.

Within an hour, most of us will be mangled sacks of meat. And one person will be at least three hundred thousand pounds richer. If the betting’s good, the bonus on top could bump it up a fair bit.

Some of the men look more afraid than others. All look desperate. You don’t take odds like this unless you really need the money. Or you’re a bit tapped. There’s a guy across the bowl who looks like that. Hard eyes. Nothing behind them.

The men who don’t care whether they die are often the ones who live. There’s freedom in having nothing. Not so long ago, that was me. Now I have Kat to live for.

Or to die for.

I’ve given the organiser a letter, as some of the guys do. Just in case. A letter to Kat telling her to stop the list if I don’t come home. To convince her parents that she dumped me and wangle the house out of them now that I’m gone. And the life insurance documents, in case she still needs the money.

I’m not afraid of dying. But I’m afraid of disappointing my girl.

The bowl is more miserable than I imagined. Not that I pictured it like a fucking fairy circle or anything, but it’s grim. Angled sides that have us standing, tipped toward the middle, making our footing awkward. The sides are too high to reach once you’re inside, and there are no ladders. Nothing at all. There are only two ways out. Win. Or die. The slightly recessed square in the centre stays shut until the end, then opens so the bodies can slide out like mashed-up human soup.

What a way to go.

I’ve watched one fight here, when I first started out at eighteen. The boss makes everyone watch one to remind us that, more often than not, we’ll die here. The draw of quick cash to desperate people outweighs the sense to stay away.

He was right. Look at me now.

The crowd jeers above, clamouring for bloodshed and the shouting of bets.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My pulse threatens to burst out of my throat while perspiration drips down my cheek.

And we wait. Eyes flicking from person to person. Sizing each other up. That damn signal taking hours to come in our heads.

I’ve picked my fight. A guy who’s a little bigger than me, but stringy with it. Let’s hope he lets me keep our fight going long enough for the others to exhaust themselves.

Planning doesn’t always run smoothly.

Kat’s face is there behind my eyes as I let them close briefly. And the true guilt of what I’m doing hits. The lies. The betrayal.

Fuck.

This is a mistak⁠—

The deafening siren makes me wince as everyone freezes for a few breaths.