Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
We are the hunters in a world full of prey. It’s not like we hurt the good guys. If you ask me, everyone in our society is bad. But we’re all willing to do what must be done in order to survive. It’s a man-eat-man world.
“Saint Beckham Carter.” I hear my name over my pounding headache. “You have been called to serve, son. Do you wish to proceed?”
“I do, sir,” I answer without hesitation, but I don’t even recognize my voice because my tongue is swollen. I bit the fuck out of it when I got a fist to the mouth.
Fight. Win. Fight. Win.
That’s what we train for. Over and over until one of us kills the other. Honestly, I think most of them give up too soon. They realize this life isn’t worth your soul. But I’ve never been known to need one. What does it get you?
Into heaven?
I don’t believe in that shit. When you’re raised in hell, heaven is a fairy tale that doesn’t exist.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, son,” the man states. “String him up.”
Hands grab at me from behind, yanking me to my feet. I don’t even try to fight. Have to save my strength for what’s to come. My cuffed wrists are brought above my head, pulling on my shoulders. I grind my teeth so I don’t make a sound at the pain that shoots up my back in this position.
The hood is pulled from my head, and I take a deep breath, blinking several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the bright light.
I’m not sure where I’m at exactly, but I know it’s Carnage. It’s an open arena. Two stories. A quick look lets me know Lords pack the place on the upper level in stadium-type seating. A look over my shoulder tells me it’s all the way around. I’ve been thrown into a shark tank, and I’m the bait.
All the Lords wear black masks and matching cloaks. I’m center stage, lower level, on a platform. Like a witch being burned at the stake, I’m strung up to a metal structure with a pole on either side of me and a third across the top. I’m six foot five, and my steel-toed boots barely touch the floor. My body is pulled so tight that the new position makes breathing even harder.
I look up and feel my hands already going numb from the position. My skin splits from being so tight in the metal.
“We will begin.” The man’s voice from before calls out, walking in front of the platform. Then he turns to face me and lowers his voice. “If you survive this, son, you will live to see another year.” With that, he walks out of my view.
If I could, I’d panic at his choice of words, but I just don’t have the energy to do so. I have to save it for what’s to come.
The squeaking wheels make me cringe. It’s as bad as nails on a chalkboard. A man enters the arena from the opposite side. He pushes a cart, but I can’t see what he has on it because my vision is blurry.
But it doesn’t matter because he’s heading right toward me. I get a better view once he reaches the platform. He picks up a syringe and a vial that sits on top of the cart.
I start to fight the restraints. I hate drugs of any kind. I don’t like feeling out of control of my body or my thoughts. Drugs slow you down and make it harder to focus on what’s in front of you. Especially since I haven’t eaten a real meal in days. It’ll probably make me sick.
Once the plunger sucks back all the liquid, emptying the vial, he walks up the three stairs in front of me and stands to my left.
I try to adjust my arms once more, my shoulders fucking screaming at the stretch. They fucking burn like I’ve been lit on fire. And the sweat that runs down my skin stings where I’ve been cut from the previous fights.
“Open wide,” he orders, and before I can even comply, he shoves something into my mouth, pushing my head back in the process. It’s hard to fucking breathe since my nose is broken, but I make do. “You’ll feel a pinch,” he states as he places a hand on my bare chest. I scream into the cloth as the most excruciating pain shoots through my body, taking what little breath I had away.
It’s over in a flash, and I feel a rush. Like a dead car getting jump-started. He yanks the cloth from my mouth. “I’d say you have about twenty minutes.” He smiles at me, and I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about.
He leaves the platform and pushes his cart across the arena. Once I no longer see him, my wrists are freed, and I fall to my knees. I don’t even feel the blow. I take a deep breath through my nose, and it feels healed. My sinus cavity is wide open.