Path To Realization (Fighter's Den, #4)

Prologue - Asher

"I'll take my chances." I say just as easily. I'm lying again. This is the last thing I want to do and I'm trying to wrack my brain thinking of an alternative.

"Let's make a deal." He clearly reads my mind and I straighten my face out. Fuck. I gave myself away. "I'll give you some information that will help the Vice Lords when they're in a tight spot."

"You think I'm stupid?" I growl. "You would never betray your own like that."

"You'd be surprised." He shrugs. "A lot goes on behind closed doors."

If anyone could understand that, it's me. "No deal. Now shut up or I'll pull this trigger."

"You see," He takes a step forward. "I just don't believe you."

"And that'll be the exact thing that gets you killed."

"Oh? Brave words, kid. I was never this arrogant when I was twenty-years-old."

"Then it's a miracle you've made it this far." I scowl. I try and take a breath as discreetly as possible when I notice my hands start to shake. Christian takes another step toward me.

"You've got guts. I'm starting to admire your character. Pryce, is it? The Asesinos could use someone like you."

"Fuck. Off." I emphasize and take a step towards him too. "You really don't want to mess with me."

"I don't?" We're close enough now that I can see the bruise forming on his forehead from when I hit him. "If that was the case, you would have shot me by now."

"Now you're just asking for it." My index finger closes over the trigger and I start to pull it in.

Christian freezes, eyes trained on the gun. "Don't do it, Pryce."

"Then don't fucking test me." I hiss. "Back up. Back the fuck up!"

"Okay." He backs up, hands in the air. My shoulders start to drop when he moves out of the way to let me go and I have to fight to keep the relief off my face. That is until he looks over my shoulder and says, "Now."

I barely have time to prepare myself. Just as I turn my head to see who's behind me, it's swung back around by a punch to the cheek with enough force packed into it that it sends me to the ground. The gun clatters out of my hand and my stomach bottoms out when Christian kicks it out of my reach. "No!"

That was my only shot at getting out of here. I let myself become distracted by Christian talking out of his ass and didn't even realize I was being snuck up on. I'm about to die because of my mistake.

I try to scramble to my feet but a heavy boot knocks into my mouth and send me sprawling on my stomach. The same boots kicks my side and I cry out in agony at the sheer pain. I roll to my back and regret it immediately when the newest perpetrator straddles me and hits me with two swift punches to the face. I grab his fists and push up, trying to get them away from me. I'm able to identify the new guy as Marshall, one of Asesinos strongest and most lethal fighters. The dude is built like a building and is notorious for his lack of mercy. Just fucking great. There's no way I'm going to fight him off, never mind him and Christian who happens to have the gun now. I try to fight Marshall off even as my throat locks up tightly.

Why did I take this job? Why did I believe my parents when they said it was just a delivery and that it would mean a lot to them if I helped? Why did I care so much about pleasing them when they've literally left me to die? This is why I fucking hate emotions. They make you weak and vulnerable and the worst of people always find a way to take advantage of you. This is why I don't let anyone get close to me. Not even her.