She packed up all the money she had in the house and, duffel bag in hand, left.
She stepped out the door and quickly loaded her things into her car She climbed in and gave the house one last look despite herself.
Alex's face popped into the window, and she waved enthusiastically.
Max forced a smile, waved back, and drove away before Alex could see her tears.
She ended up getting there in time, and the group of fighters plus Variable left early.
She followed them in her car to the warehouse, on the edge of the city, bordering the swamp.
She was just getting her bag out of the back of the car when Variable came up to her.
“How was the fight for McKnaff?” he asked curiously.
Max shrugged as she jerked her bag out of the drunk of her Taurus.
“It was decent. Bunch of trumped up names, stupid costumes. You would have fit right in,” she said as she slammed the trunk shut.
He looked at her oddly, and her heart thumped. He read her too well … she had to be careful.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
“None of your fucking business,” she snarled. It was one instinct she didn’t have to quell around him.
“Maverick, its me.” his voice softened. As if she could actually trust him.
“My sister is being a shit and I’m sick of it. Happy now?” she snarled before she stomped off.
He didn’t approach her for the rest of the night.
It was a big event. Huge.
She was slated for seven fights. That was practically impossible for any of Variable’s fighters to pull off without dying or losing.
She was a decent fighter – out of a hundred matches she did every month, she won about ninety five of them. Once or twice a week she lost, but she was still a heavy bet for the viewers. Her largest winning streak was still going – seven weeks without a single loss. The bettors and odds were both going crazy for her, and everybody who saw the slated fights thought the same thing.
Maverick would live through them and win.
Every time she thought of her weakness, every time she began to drag down, she thought of them.
She thought of the man in the theater, speaking of Alex. She thought of William, telling her that her family would pay the price for her crimes.
She didn’t have to think of Rover. Or Lowry, whatever her name was. She was fighting in the next ring over, and whenever Max got a look or even a glimpse at her, she felt fury surge up inside.
The one person she’d considered a friend, and she was an agent. Spying on her.
The thought whipped through her, and adrenaline went with it.
Max spun on her heel, rammed her elbow into her opponent’s face, and blood soared through the air.
The event had started at five o’clock. It was now quarter after one in the morning, and Max was done with her last fight.
She went up the stairs and showered. As she water poured down her face she prepared herself. She had to grieve. She had to make it look real. Variable knew her all too well; he would know how she would react, even though she didn’t.
She closed her eyes and imagined that Alex was dead. That she and their mother had burnt up in ashes, never to be seen again.
Grief welled up inside of her, insanity threatened her mind.
She went home.
She sped down the street. She could hear sirens; they wailed louder than anything Max had ever heard.
Even though she knew that Alex and her mother were safe, she couldn’t help herself. Her heart started beating in fear. Stupid, irrational fear.
She skidded to a stop down the street from her house and ran.
It was still engulfed in flames, but it looked like it was gone for the most part. The second story was about to crumble, and the first floor looked like it was nothing more than charred embers.
“Oh my God!” she whispered.
She couldn’t help herself. On instinct, she ran towards the house.
One of the firemen stopped her, gripped his arms around her waist as she came within yards of the house.
“Alex! Mom! That’s my house! My family is in there!”
The tears were not hard to fake. Everything she’d been feeling for the past few days came unleashed.
“Alex!” she screamed.
Mrs. Barrows came over to her, put a comforting hand on her arm as another fireman came to help the one currently restraining her.
She struggled, thrashed, kicked.
“Mom! Alex!” she screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat was raw.
Hours later, the fire was gone, as was her house. The second story had fallen into the first, and nothing of the inside was left but char and ash.
The firefighters went in to salvage what they could.
They came out with two charred sets of bodies, eerily similar in shape and size to Alex and her mother.
“No. No. Alex. No,” Max sobbed as she moved towards the bodies.
Again, the firefighters restrained her from touching them.
She went limp in their arms.
“What happened?” she asked hoarsely. Smoke and screaming had reduced the texture of her voice to that of sandpaper.
“It looks like there was a gas leak. It exploded before it burned,” one of the firemen said.
Max shook her head weakly.
“I was there. Just this afternoon, I was there. I didn’t smell anything,” she whispered brokenly.
“It might’ve happened right after you left. We can’t know anything for sure right now. You should call someone to come pick you up. Is there anyone you can stay with?” he asked.
Suddenly, Max straightened herself as if she’d had an idea.
“I know where I can stay,” she said, her voice wet with tears.
Before anyone could stop her, she jumped in her car and left.
