Caleb released the six steel locks on the door and they went inside. Sparks stomach growled at the sight of the beef jerky and stale bread on the table. He snatched a handful of jerky and sat against the wall on his side of the room, pushing aside the rusty chain and manacle to make space.
Caleb sat across from him, munching on the bread. Even his enormous jaw seemed to struggle chewing it.
Sparks tore through the jerky. Fighting always left him starving. The meat was hard and over-salted, but delicious. He admitted grudgingly to himself that, since Roman had brought him, the quality of his meals had definitely improved.
After the meal, he let out an exhausted yawn and strapped his ankle into the manacle, ready for Caleb to lock him in for the night. He collapsed against the hard floor, drained of all energy, but sure that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.
The manacle clicked as Caleb locked it. Then there was the familiar rustle of the giant laying his head on his straw pillow, the other pillow next to him unused, as always.
Even in the darkness, Sparks kept his eyes open. Mole’s words repeated in his ears.
You fucking traitor.
He recalled the memory of Roman at Lady Luck, reaching for his gun, ready to shoot Sparks.
Why did he give a rat’s arse about what either of them thought? He had beaten Mole in the fight and could do the same with Roman at any time. They were nothing compared to him.
“Hey.” Caleb’s voice tore him from his thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“I do trust you.”
Sparks gave his leg a shake, rattling the chain that held him to the wall.
“You’re a good kid,” Caleb continued.
“I’m not a kid.”
“What are you then?”
“A fighter.”
Caleb gave a long sigh. “I reckon we’re all fighters.”
“Not as good as me.”
They fell back into silence, long enough for Sparks to judge the conversation was over. He shuffled against the cold concrete floor. No matter how he lay, his shoulder still throbbed painfully.
Caleb interrupted the silence again. “Why do you fight?”
“That’s a stupid question. Fighting feels good.”
“That’s a stupid answer. And I reckon I know why Roman hates you.”
“Because he’s an asshole?”
“No. He’s a stubborn fool, but he’s also the best man that you’re likely to ever find in Legacy. Not many people around here want to hunt rogues. I do it for the money. But Roman? He’s got passion. He does it because he thinks it’s right.”
Sparks snorted. “What makes anything right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not, but at least he has a reason for doing what he does. What reasons do you have? None.”
“I don’t need a reason.”
“Then you don’t need his trust.”
“I don’t need it. I shouldn’t. But, um…” Sparks stumbled over his next words. “Thanks, Caleb. For putting that arrow within my reach. Without it, I might have… Well, died.”
“No problem. Whatever happens to us, I’ve got your back. You don’t need to thank me, all you need to do in return is to have my back. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The conversation died, and soon Caleb’s snoring filled the room. Sparks lay awake. His jaw was clenched so tight it hurt — but the pain helped distract from the dozen other aches across his body. He was still angry. Angry at Mole for calling him a traitor, angry at himself for nearly losing the fight. But mostly, he was angry at Roman. Why the fuck did Roman hate him, even after he saved Roman’s life at Lady Luck?
Well, he wasn’t going to put up with anymore. It didn’t matter if Roman trusted him or not, next time he saw the old man, Sparks was going to demand to carry his own activation needles.
Then he could come alive whenever he wanted, and he could fight whoever he wanted.
He would be free.
10
It was a busy night at the Mutt’s Tail. The small establishment was crammed with rowdy punters, each acting as if they were trying to be the most insufferable drunk there. Congratulations, you’re all winners, Roman thought as he pushed away his plate of boiled potatoes. It was hard to find an appetite amongst the smell of sweat, booze, and smoke.
Ruby sat beside him, calmly fletching an arrow while they waited. Her fingers placed each feather with careful precision. It was a shame such patiently crafted arrows would inevitably end up bloody.
“You look worried, Boss,” Tan said through a mouthful of steak.
“I’m fine,” Roman said, though Tan was right. “You’re the one who should be concerned — I don’t think steak is meant to be that black.”
“Just well-cooked, is all.”
The pub doors swung open, and Caleb entered. The crowd made way for him as he approached Roman’s booth. He sat. “Uh… You aren’t going to like this.”
Sparks stepped inside. His face was purple with bruises and his arm was wrapped in rags. He limped over, ungraciously taking the seat next to Tan, scowling.
“What the hell happened?” Roman asked.
Caleb refused to meet Roman’s eye. “Well, you said to get Sparks in contact with other Adrenalites. I reckoned the easiest way would be to—”
“You let him fight,” Roman cut him off. “Damn it, Caleb. Tell me you didn’t do this just to earn easy credits, or I’ll nail your feet to the floor with your own jawbone.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you did let Sparks fight! I didn’t buy the boy just so he could—”
Sparks grabbed Tan’s half-eaten steak and threw it in Roman’s face. “Then why the fuck did you buy me at all?” he spat.
Stunned, Roman slowly wiped his face with his sleeve. His other hand shifted beneath the table, preparing to grab his pistol if necessary. “Sparks,” he began. “I think—”
“No! You listen to me.” Sparks pointed a finger at Roman. “All of you need to listen to me.”
Around them, the clamour of the punters sounded distant, as if the sound couldn’t pierce the cloud of tension hanging over their table.
“I’m a pit fighter,” Sparks said. “It’s what I do. It’s the only thing I do. I’m not pretending to be some righteous protector of the city like you are, Roman. And if you wanted me to be anything different than what I am, then you wasted your money.” Sparks turned his finger to point at his battered face. “Do you want to know why this happened to me? The other Adrenalites wanted to kill me because I work for you. They called me a traitor. That is what you made me, old man. This is your fault.”
Roman scowled. “I saved you from your worthless life and gave you a chance to help this city. And you’re going to whine because you got hurt one time? Grow up, kid.”
“I’m not a kid!”
“Then stop acting like—”
A hand slapped Roman’s cheek. Ruby’s. Then she backhanded Sparks.
“Shut up. Both of you,” she said.
Roman rubbed his stinging face, suppressing his anger. Ruby was right — starting a fight with Sparks wasn’t going to help him capture Spencer. He needed a different approach.
“Now,” Ruby said, “if you two stop being jackasses, we can talk this out. Like adults.” She went back to fletching her arrow as if nothing had happened.
“Fine.” Roman leaned forward, meeting Sparks’ eyes. “What do you want?”
“I told you last time. I want to carry my own activation needle.”
“I understand.” Roman forced his voice to stay calm. “But if that’s going to happen, I need discuss it with the rest of the team first, without you. Go wait outside.”