Free Prisoner (All of You Book 1) by Melissa Silvey

absolutely no way this woman broke my sister’s ribs, unless she somehow had my sister down on the ground and kicked her.  Even then, I don’t think she could break her bones.  Her legs probably aren’t even as big as my arms.  She is what I’d describe as a crack whore.  Or maybe she’s a meth whore, from the sores on her cheeks.  Why would anyone voluntarily have sex with her, much less pay for it?
    “Hey, Jenna, why do you always seem to end up at the jail right in time for the fights?”  De Soto asks, rhetorically.  He even chuckles when he says it.
    “The prison guards are easy.  I mean, they’re all in one place, right?  I don’t have to stand out on the streets.  Plus, I get a bed and a hot meal after.”  She turns to me and smiles, and I turn away.  I don’t even want to think about her teeth.  Jesus, if she had that mouth on my pussy I’d have to disinfect it.  “What the fuck is wrong with you, princess?  You think you’re better than me?”
    Yea, I think I’m way better than you .  “I don’t judge.  We’re both sleeping in the same place tonight.”  I say it as diplomatically as I can.  But I don’t look at her again. 
    “I like Vaden,” Hughes counters.  “She doesn’t argue, and she doesn’t fight.  She looks like she’s too good for this shit, but deep down she knows the score.”
    “Yea,” I agree.  I’m learning the score, anyway.
     
    Tony
     
    I’m more focused on the man across from me than I am on the windows toward my right.  I assume that’s where they watch.  I mean, they don’t have the girls from the jail down in with the rest of the crowd, do they?  People would question that, right?  Probably not.  If they’re here betting on whether I live or die, I’m sure they’re not worried about a couple of girls from the jail.
    The man they’ve pitted me against this time looks like he knows how to fight with his hands.  “I’m guessing you’re ex-military?”  I yell.  The crowd is already pretty rowdy, whooping and yelling.  We’re in the ring together, but they haven’t introduced us yet.
    “Army, you?” he calls out.  He doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.  He’s about six feet tall, not as muscular as me.  He’s a white guy, and he’s got a tan line where his wedding ring used to be.  He hasn’t been in prison that long.  He doesn’t deserve this.  Neither of us deserves this.
    “SEAL,” I reply. 
    “Fuck,” he groans.  “I’m still not rolling over and letting you kill me.”
    “I don’t expect you to,” I reply.  The PA announcer begins the introductions, and I’m shocked by how many people scream for me when my name is announced.  I mean, I’d almost feel good about it, in other circumstances.  Now, all I can concentrate on is the man across from me.  I don’t hear his name.  I don’t hear the crowd.  I just hear the blood pounding in my ears.  The adrenaline is already flowing.
    When the bell rings, he comes at me.  He gets in one good punch, on my jaw, then another on my cheek.  It’s almost like a wake-up call.  I take a swing at him, and hit him in the throat.  I don’t care if it’s a cheap move.  I’m not losing this fight.  He puts his hands up to his neck, and I hear him struggling to breathe.  Right now, I have no feelings of mercy inside me.  I punch him in the nose, and he stumbles backward.  Then I punch him in the stomach, which is a little soft, and I keep punching him, until he leans forward and spits blood all over the mat.
    The man takes another swing at me, but his arm falls downward before it gets near me.  I lift my arms over my head, and let out an inhuman roar.  That’s how I feel right now, inhuman.  But everyone in the crowd screams out “Gladiator!” in response.  It’s a rush, a high.  And then, I realize there’s no bell coming to stop the fight.  I have to kill him.  I close my eyes for just a moment, not wanting to finish it.