*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 15– I hope you have a plan:

Dakota didn't talk to me for the rest of the day on Friday— not that I minded, though. He didn't glare at me or act petty towards me, but his face remained blank until it was time to fuck off home. No one was around to really pick up on his behaviour, however, so no questions were asked about the way he was acting. But I knew for a fact he was mad at me, and that made me mad at him.

It's the day of Dakota's fight at The Ring tonight— Saturday— and there's only an hour before it begins. I haven't told Jace about where I'm going, although I did plan to. In all honesty, I need him there for back-up of sorts. I may be crazy but I'm not stupid, and going to a meeting with Mac on my own, while he'll be surrounded by his ex-army guard dogs, doesn't seem like one of my finest ideas. However, I later decided against informing Jace and bringing him along, because I don't want to drag him in to any of this.

So he remains clueless.

As I stuff a small knife in my boot, careful not to nick my skin through my fluffy socks (guilty pleasure) I hear footsteps on the floor above me and know Jace is out of his room, most likely getting ready for bed. I quickly tie my laces and adjust my hoodie over the two guns in my waistband— one at the back, one in the front— and stand up straight as I face the stairs.

"Where are you off to?" Jace raises an eyebrow as he bounces down the last steps, scanning my outfit from head to toe. He eyes the baggy jumper I wear and frowns suspiciously. Coming to stand in front of me, he crosses his arms.

        "Nowhere," I grumble, turning around to search for my keys in the ceramic bowl by the entrance. Jace doesn't seem to believe my vague reply and insists on knowing my plans. "Haven't you got somebody else to harass?"

        "R.A, seriously. Where are you going? It's almost midnight," he grabs my arm and turns me to face him, his facial expression not one of playfulness like it usually is. Dakota's fight is pretty late tonight, but because it's a weekend and more people are able to attend The Ring, there are more fights held because more bets are placed. "Well?"

        "I'm going for a drive."

        "Why?"

        I shrug my shoulders before taking back my arm he held hostage. "Can't sleep."

        Jace's eyebrows furrow and he doesn't seem to be fully convinced. It takes only seconds for his eyes to find the duffel bag next to my feet. Mierda!

        "And you have that because...?" He trails off, looking back up to meet my stare. I keep my facial expression nonchalant and unbothered to the fact that I don't have an answer to that, once again offering a shrug of my shoulders as I cross my arms. "What's going on, kid? Where are you really going?"

        "I told you." I carry on with my lie, my skin crawling at the dishonesty. "For a drive."

         Jace snorts as his eyes roll. "Well sorry if I don't believe you seeing as the last time you snuck out in the middle of the night, you came back covered in blood telling me you kidnapped someone, took them to the middle of nowhere, roughed them 'a little', broke their fingers, and left them stranded in the woods!"

        Why is it, whenever someone describes my actions back to me, they make it seem worse than it actually was?

        "It's your fault I have to lie to you," I tell him simply, shrugging one shoulder. "If you didn't ask questions I didn't want to answer, then we wouldn't be in this position of distrust."

        Jace snorts, "Or maybe after spending years together, you would realise that all I want to do is help you."

        I raise my right eyebrow at him; I can't raise the left. "So if I tell you where I'm going, you won't stop me from leaving?" I challenge him.

        Jace gives a firm nod, "Yes," but after seeing the look on my face, he seems to regret his words. Though, thankfully, he doesn't take them back.

        "Remember what we say about going back on our word, Jacey," I taunt. He says nothing as he runs his tongue over his top set of teeth. "Fine. I'm going to Dakota's fight."

        "Why?"

        "So I can paint his portrait," I snap at his stupid question. "Why the fuck do you think?"

        Jace scoffs, "So you're telling me the only reason you're going to watch Dakota, is to watch Dakota?" He doesn't look convinced and continues to pry. "What are you leaving out of the story, R.A?"

        I avert my eyes temporarily as I bite down on my tongue. "I have a meeting there, if you must know."

        He frowns, "With who?"

        "Mac," I decide not to lie. It won't get me anywhere now.

        Jace immediately shakes his head, though I'm not surprised, I already saw it coming. "No way."

        "Yes way," I mock him.

        "What for? What business could you possibly have with that filth?" He spits angrily, dropping his arms to his side as his fists clench. I'd told Jace about Mac, starting with how much his name pissed me off, and he immediately decided that he hated the man. "Is that what the bag's for?" His eyes dart to the space next to my legs. "What's in there?"

        He says my name again in warning when I don't answer him, his voice low, and I huff out before replying. "It's nothing, Jace, alright? I know what I'm doing."

        Jace's hands run through his hair, tussling the short strands. He brings them back and forth against his scalp before they rest at the back of his head, his elbows pointing outwards. "Fucks sake, R.A, you do half put me in some awkward positions," he exasperates.

        I object. "You do it to yourself with all the questions you ask. If you'd just accepted my lie then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

        "No, that's not what I meant," he breathes out. "I want you to tell me everything, no secrets. But I just wish you'd stop doing half the dangerous shit you do." I shrug. Not gonna happen. "Right, give me a few minutes to get dressed."

        "You're not coming Jace," I step forward to tug him back by his wrist as he goes to ascend the stairs. He looks at me over his shoulder with a clenched jaw but I don't give in. "You're not fucking coming, Jace, this doesn't concern you."

        "I'm coming."

        "I swear to God, Jace, if you don't—."

___

        "—speak to anyone. Don't look at anyone. Don't even blink unless you absolutely have to," I instruct as I park my car a few metres away from the abandoned building. Jace rolls his eyes as I turn to look over at him as he hunches forward in the passenger seat, adjusting the knife in his sock. "I'm serious."

        "Can I breathe? Or do I need permission for that, too?" He asks sarcastically, causing my jaw to tick in annoyance. "And shouldn't I be the one giving you rules, seeing as you're the most unstable one out of us two?"

        I pin him with a look. "Just shut up and get out."

        Once we're both out of the car, I lead us down the side of the building to the back where Steve, or whatever his name is, stands outside with his arms crossed. Once he see's me, he smiles. "Kody, glad to see you're back. Who's this?"

        "No one of importance," I answer, half telling the truth. Jace isn't important in this area, he has no business being here, but I also don't want to give his name out because I don't trust anyone from this part of town.

        "That's not very nice," I feel Jace tug on the ends of my ponytail, making my head jolt backwards slightly. I slap his hand away and shoot him a warning glare.

        "Okay then..." Steve trails off, holding the door open for us. "Have a good night, you two. Shout me if you need anything, Kody."

        I don't bother answering as I walk passed him, hearing Jace telling him 'thank you' on what I assume was my behalf. Though, I don't think manners in this place is a common thing, so it's unlikely Steve is put off by my impoliteness.

        Once we're in the main room, the air heavy with sweat and blood, I feel Jace move even closer to me than he already is.

        He stands rigid next to me, his eyes scanning the area with a wary interest. He shoots me a look and I do nothing but shrug my shoulders. It's not like I designed the interior of the place.

        Making sure Dakota is nowhere in sight, Jace and I head to the back of the room behind the seats, passing all different types of people as we go. All of them are the average, every day person dressed casually in clean clothes, their attire nothing fancy. The wealthier people suited up in branded clothing, leather shoes and expensive accessories are separated from everyone else as they're seated in the balcony area above us. I can tell it was clearly made for their purpose only. There's three balcony sections, two above the seating area and a single longer one on the opposite side, behind the ring, looking over everyone else.

        I'd noticed them the first time I came here, but didn't think anything of them— just that they were for the richer, more important guests. After I saw Mac talking to those men in the suits when I came to watch Dakota's fight, though, I concluded that they must be some of the few people in the private seating. They weren't here the last time I came with Landon, the balcony behind the ring had been empty, but the two balconies opposite were very much occupied.

        If I had to take a guess, I'd say the two balconies above where I stand are for the rich, and the single one opposite is for the people Mac was talking to. They're important— very important— and I have a feeling that if I want to get Dakota out of this mess, I'll be encountering them sooner than expected.

Leaning against the wall with Jace at my side, my duffel bag hanging off my shoulder, I watch the people next to the ring as they move around, conversing with one another. I'm not too sure on how everything works here, considering Dakota doesn't tell me a lot about it and this is only my fourth time being in this place, but I know there are other people that do the same as Mac does— manage fighters.

As far as I'm aware, The Ring isn't an organisation, it's just a place for the fights to take place in. The managers train their fighters, or rather manage them, privately. Going off by what Dakota has told me, Mac manages more than one person, and I suspect the other managers do the same— recruit more than one fighter. Fighters with different managers fight each other; they don't fight people they share a manager with. Therefore, Dakota would never fight Marc, or Matt, whatever his name is, because they both signed a contract with Mac.

        Confusing as it is, I sort of understand, though that's all I know. Everything else, I figure out myself or I just take a guess using coming sense and the little knowledge I have about this place. It's straight forward for the most part, but the ins and outs are what make it more difficult to comprehend.

        "Where's ya boy?" Jace asks close to my ear, his breath minty because of his extra-strong (extra-disgusting) mouthwash. Barely paying attention, I shrug my shoulders. His fight should take place in a few minutes, so it shouldn't be long before he has to be in the ring. "Are you sure you want to do whatever it is you're planning?"

        I sigh, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Mind your business, Jace."

        "I just don't get it..." he trails off, shaking his head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm relieved you have met someone you want to help and look out for, but does it need to be him? He's a good kid, but this is dangerous."

        The crowd of people let out a cheer as they see somebody get into the ring. It's not a fighter, though, I can tell by the way he's dressed. He begins to announce the fights that will be taking place and my eyebrows furrow as Dakota's name is called out three times.

        He has more than one fight?

        "Are you listening to me, R.A?" Jace pushes, but he's also looking out at the scene in front of him. Once the man starts talking about things I have no interest in hearing, I tune into Jace.

        "I'm not helping him."

        "Uh no, you are," he mumbles matter-of-factly. "That's actually the definition of what you're doing. I just don't get why."

        I shrug nonchalantly, "It's a favour."

        "Sure it is," he scoffs at my reply, shaking his head. I don't turn to face him fully, but I do slightly angle my body so I have a better view of my housemate. "I hope you know what you're doing, kid."

        "I do."

        But in reality, I don't. I literally don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. Nor do I have a clue as to why I'm doing it. Maybe it has something to do with the things he told me back when he stayed the night at my house; the things he said and how he said them.

        Or maybe I just want to piss him off by meddling in his business like he meddles in mine.

        "It's starting," Jace nudges my shoulder, making me focus on the ring when the two fighters come out. Dakota appears from the right while the other comes from the left. The blonde's opponent is a tall man with dark skin and even darker hair. I can't see the colour of his eyes, but they look too light to be brown. His build is big, almost rivalling Dakota's, and his height is two inches taller. However, I see the flaws in his stance before the round even begins, so hopefully he's just as clumsy and inexperienced as he comes across.

Dakota, on the other hand, stands confidently. Both fighters are focused on one another, but Dakota is the more concentrated one out of the two, like he's blocked out the loud noise of the crowd. His stance is on point, his shoulders pulled back, one hand blocking his face and the other in front. His feet are placed firmly on the ground and his body is slightly angled— prepared.

I've seen Dakota fight before, and while he's not terrible, he could use a few pointers. It makes me wonder if he's self-taught and doesn't have a coach, or if he's just missed too many training sessions.

His strength isn't the problem. His punches are direct and look like they'd hurt, but it's not all about strength. He needs speed, he needs stability, he needs to be smart about his moves and see the blow before it's delivered.

If the outcome of this match is based on who the strongest fighter is, I don't know who will win. They both have the same build, the same muscular physique, so it's hard to determine who will take the victory.

"Think he'll win?" Jace asks next to me, his body relaxed but I know he's feeling as much anticipation as I am.

I shake my head at his question, watching the ring intently as the bell is rung and the match starts. Dakota's on defence, which is smart in my opinion. If he hasn't fought this guy before, then it's best to see the moves he makes and suss out his weaknesses— which I've already figured out.

"I don't know. It's hard to say."

"What will happen if the other guy wins?" He asks with a slight hint of worry. Jace doesn't know much about The Ring, I haven't told him a lot, so he's unsure of how cruel and brutal these people are. For all he knows, Mac could kill him for losing a fight which essentially leads to losing money.

"I'll kill him," I tell him bluntly, pushing myself off the wall so I'm standing straighter.

"Dakota?" He asks, and I shake my head. Jace laughs at that. "You can't kill someone for winning."

I roll my eyes. "I won't kill him for winning. I'll kill him for making Dakota lose."

"Same thing," Jace pointlessly voices just as the crowd lets out a boo as they guy lays a hard punch to Dakota's jaw. My fists clench and I look away, my jaw ticking in annoyance.

Dakota's an idiot. How could he let that happen?

The fight continues for a while longer, Dakota's tattooed body red and covered in sweat. His hair is damp and slightly curling, falling over his face, but not too much. The other guy is also dripping with sweat, his skin glistening with a layer of perspiration. He looks more worn out than the blonde boy, but he doesn't look like he's ready to give up.

It takes at least another ten minutes for Dakota to land one final punch to his opponent's nose, sending him stumbling to the floor as he sprawls out unconsciously. The crowd goes wild with enthusiasm as they cheer for the blonde teenager who looks more like a full grown man. Even Jace stands next to me, beaming at the winner who avoids the crowd with a stony expression.

I wonder if any of them know how much he doesn't want to do this. How many of them bet on a boy who doesn't want to fight but has to because of a stupid contract he signed with a piece of shit, fat man.

We're here for another hour and a half before Dakota's third and final fight rolls around. By this point he's bruised and exhausted from his last two fights— the second one being much worse than the first.

Half way through, I spot Ricky walking up to me and Jace, pushing his way through the audience with a stoic look on his face. I briefly glance at Jace, seeing he's engrossed in the fight, before excusing myself.

"Kody," Ricky nods as I get close to him, standing in front of him in the middle of the aisle separating the two sides of the seating area. I raise an eyebrow as I cross my arms, noticing his expression isn't as closed-off as it looks from afar. "He'll see you after Dakota's fight," he informs me, referring to Mac. "He's asked me to come get you now and take you up."

"Take me up?" I parrot in confusion.

"Yeah. Upstairs."

I nod reluctantly. Leaving him there where he stands, I walk up and tug on Jace's arm, letting him know that we're going now. He nods at me, his face not giving much away. We walk back over to Ricky and he raises an eyebrow at Jace before looking back to me. "I'm not an idiot," I shrug casually, leaving out the fact Jace practically forced himself in the car with me despite my protests.

Ricky gives me an understanding smile, the first real one I think I've seen if my memory serves me right. "Okay. Ready then?"

"Yeah."

Trailing behind Ricky, I avoid being spotted by Dakota. Jace stays stuck to my side as we head over to the door we came through. Rather than going straight down the hall, we take the first door on the right, leading up to a stairwell. As we begin to ascend, Jace tugs me back, looking at me with doubt.

"I hope you have a plan, Kid."

And as I look back at him, for the first time I think to myself: I have no plan at all.

___

Author's Note

Sorry it's been so long since I last updated, guys! I haven't been slacking off, don't worry. I've written a couple of future chapters for this book and also I've been writing for 'The Other Side of Life'.

Updates on this may slow down because, as I've mentioned on my profile, I'm trying to focus a little more on my other book just because it's easier to write and has less chapters so it'll be finished much quicker. This