Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

“Perhaps now you realize what you’ve done,” Nino said close behind me. I jumped, and took a step away from him. I didn’t take my eyes off the fighting. What had I done? I’d allowed myself to get close to a man who should have been out of bounds. Had proven that I was more like my mother than I wanted to admit. But I didn’t regret it. And I wouldn’t allow Nino Falcone to scare me. I was past that point.

Remo landed three hard punches against Fabiano’s stomach before he got hit in the face, and then they were kicking and punching so fast, I lost count. They thrust each other to ground, got up, hit and kicked.

Fabiano’s face wasn’t even recognizable anymore from all the blood covering him, but neither was Remo’s. I shivered.

I lost track of time; their fighting grew more erratic and less cautious. There was no holding back anymore. Even to someone who wasn’t in on the rules, it would have been clear that two men were fighting for their life.

Remo grabbed Fabiano and thrust him with full force into the fence. Fabiano bounced off and fell to his knees. I gasped and took a step forward.

Remo gripped Fabiano’s head but somehow Fabiano managed to push off the ground and thrust his knee upwards into Remo’s groin. Both of them toppled to the mat, panting and spitting blood. For a split second Fabiano allowed himself another look at me. Why did it feel like saying goodbye?

I began walking toward the cage, needing to stop this madness. Nino stepped in my way, tall and cold. “You stay where you are unless you want to die.”

“How can you watch your brother die?” I asked incredulously.

Nino’s cold eyes took in the fight in the cage where both men were beating each other with elbows and fists, half kneeling on the floor, too weak to get up from almost one hour of non-stop fighting.

“We all have to die. We can choose to die standing up or on our knees begging for mercy. Remo’s laughing death in the face like any self-respecting man should.”

With every breath I took, it felt like a knife was slicing into my lungs. I pressed my palm against my right side, feeling my ribs. They were broken. I spit blood on the ground.

Remo was watching me closely as I knelt across from him. He’d make sure to aim his next hits on my ride side. His left arm was hanging limply at his side after I had managed to dislocate it with my elbow again. Only this time I couldn’t give him the time to relocate it.

I pressed my palm against the ground, trying to push myself back into a standing position. The floor was slippery with blood. The room shook with roars and clapping when both Remo and I had managed to get to our feet. We were both swaying. We wouldn’t be able to last long. Every bone in my body felt like it was broken. Remo winced, not bothering to hide it. We were past the point of pretending we weren’t in pain. This was coming to a close.

“Thinking about giving up?” I asked.

Remo pulled back his lips in a bloody smile. “Never. And you?”

He could have had me killed without getting his hands dirty. He could have put a bullet through my skull and would have been done with it. Instead he chose to give me a fair chance. Remo was hated. He deserved that hate like few other men in this world, but for what he did today, I’d respect him till my last breath.

“Never.”

I barreled toward Remo under the thunderous applause of the crowd. The money the Camorra would win with bets tonight would set new standards. My body exploded with pain as I collided with Remo. We both fell to the ground, and began wrestling. We had no strength for kick boxing anymore. This would be settled on the ground, with one of us choking the other or breaking his neck.

Something exploded. Remo and I fell apart, disoriented. The door to the fight arena went down, and men stormed in. They shouted at each other in Italian and English. Not the Russians.

The Outfit or the Famiglia attacking Las Vegas’ ground?

They spread in the room, beginning to fire.

And Remo and I sat in the middle of the room in an illuminated fighting cage like goldfish in a bowl.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Nino pushing Leona to the side so she fell to the ground out of the fire line. He began firing at the intruders as he rushed toward us. Remo and I pressed to the floor, trying not to be hit by straying bullets. It wasn’t an honorable death to die kneeling on the ground, unable to fight back.