Chapter 53

• Brant
• I arrived at the fighting arena with Jericho. The place was a wide, dimly lit pit, a cage at its center surrounded by raised stands where the Dons sat like kings watching gladiators. The air already hung thick with smoke, sweat, and anticipation, every corner alive with wagers and whispers. Not all the Dons had arrived yet, but several were already there with their fighters—hulking brutes, muscle stacked on muscle. Broad-shouldered men with thick necks and heavy fists, each one looked more beast than man. Than me.
• I guessed each Don believed sheer bulk would win the fight. Maybe the drugs had fried their brains, or maybe they were just too arrogant to see past muscle. They thought size was everything. But fights weren’t won by slabs of meat. They were won by grit, by cunning, by knowing when to strike and when to wait. That was something their giants would never understand.