Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

42. Milo

FORTY-TWO

MILO

FIVE YEARS AGO

Shouts thundered through the sordid air, vileness riding on the thinned vapors of oxygen that smothered all morality.

Loathing seeped down to his core, infiltrating every molecule.

The disgust at what he’d succumbed to, the revulsion for what he’d done.

Pain throbbed at his right side from what he was sure was a cracked rib, and blood dripped from his ear and down his chin as he stalked around the edge of the ring, weighing his opponent who’d turned out to be far more difficult to beat than he’d anticipated.

No doubt that was why he’d been forced into this corruption, the stakes higher than they’d ever been.

Ten million he’d heard rumbling through hushed voices, the anticipation of it curling through the basement on dark ribbons of greed.

And if he didn’t win?

He refused to even consider it.

The man they called Immortal stalked forward, tossing out a blow that landed Milo on the jaw.

Violence screamed, the thirst for it racing through his veins, clouding out reason and sight.

Milo attacked.

Throwing blow after blow, knocking the man back farther and farther across the ring with each hit.

Blood splattered, and Milo could feel the crunching of bone. Immortal fell back against the ropes, and someone shoved him off, and the man lumbered three steps forward.

It gave Milo the perfect opportunity to knock him in the temple.

His fist cracked.

The man slumped forward.

Facedown.

TKO.

Greedy shouts erupted, chanting through the air. “End him. End him!”

Milo turned in a circle, mind jumbled with the disorder, with the aggression that thrived and the disgust that made him want to turn and run.

Nothing making sense.

They kept chanting.

Chanting and chanting.

It was different from before.

Something sinister filling the air.

Nausea spun through his stomach as dread clawed across his flesh.

Vipers that sank their teeth into his soul.

The ref was still standing there, not calling the fight.

He stumbled back to the ropes, realization bottling his conscience into a fist of terror.

Stefan leaned in from behind him, his wicked voice hissing in his ear, “You heard them…end him. I promise you, he’s not immortal .”

Milo spun to look at him.

The twisted fuck cracked a grin.

Disbelief shook Milo’s head. “What are you saying, Stefan?”

“I warned you that the stakes were greater than before, Milo. End him. Because it’s him or it’s you.”