Broken: Round One (Broken #1) by Skyla Madi Read Free Book Online Page A

celebration startles me and I jump backwards, desperately clinging to Jai’s arm. The uproar vibrates the floor under my feet. I feel it in the rubber of my shoes and in the fabric of my socks before it climbs my legs. I pant, unsure if I should cheer or cry. My chest hurts, burning like I’ve smoked an entire packet of cigarettes and I realize it’s not because of the crowd. It’s because of the man that lies unconscious on the floor of the cage.
    That could be me.
    That will be me.
    I survey him a little longer. There’s something not quite right about him. He’s still … dead still. I don’t notice two of Skull’s men, the ones from yesterday, approach the cage until they unlock the door and the winner leaps out. He clenches his torso and puts on a brave face, but it’s not enough to hold back the contents of his stomach. I cringe and look away as yellow bile spews from his mouth. Ignoring him, the goons step into the cage, unbothered that it bounces and trembles under their weight. At any second, the chains could snap. I think I’m the only one who cares.
    The men reach down and slap the man on the face. He doesn’t move. They peer up at Skull briefly before testing his pulse. I keep my attention on Skull and all it takes is a shake of his head and the goons scoop up the unconscious man. When they have all of his weight in their arms, I notice a slight trail of blood leak from his mouth and nose. My blood runs cold. Is he … dead?
    Outside the cage, the two men pull him higher in their arms. I expect them to carry him somewhere, to a little nook in a tunnel with someone that can help him—like a little healing bay or something. Instead, Skull announces that sometimes it doesn’t always work out and reminds us it’s a dangerous game.
    And then they toss him over the edge and into the tunnel like week-old trash.
    Like fucking trash.
     

Subversion
    I pace the room, taking three steps each way before having to turn again. Jai watches me from the doorway, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He thinks I’m overreacting. He treats me as if I’m the only one who finds it appalling they tossed away the loser of the fight like he was nothing.
    “He was dead already, Emily.” He sighs, apparently sick of saying it. “The punch was too much. There’s nothing anyone could’ve done.”
    Silent tears burn down my cheeks and I hug myself tighter. “He probably has family … they’re never going to know what happened to him.” I inhale sharply. “What if he has a wife? Or children? They’ll grow old thinking their father left them without explanation.”
    “If he was down here, he did leave without explanation.”
    I stop pacing and glare at Jai. “Do you have any compassion? A human being died and he was treated like trash.”
    Then, realization dawns on me, and all of the emotion I feel, all of the fear and outrage swirling around in my chest, drains out through my shoes. Even my tears dry up.
    “I’m going to die down here and they’re going to throw me away.”
    Jai rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “You’re not going to die.”
    “I am.”
    Why does he think I’m being dramatic? I have no fighting experience yet here I am, trapped underground with fighters and the only way out is to win, lose or die.
    “How does it work, anyway? Do they go alphabetically? By size? Draw straws?”
    “It’s random. Skull has Marcus choose a male and female and then they choose their opponent.”
    I frown. “So there’s no real structure to it?”
    He shakes his head.
    “Shit. Look at me. I’m an easy win.”
    I could be called to fight at any second and I have no idea how to throw a punch or how to block one. I’m as good as dead.
    I’ve never been a dramatic person. I’ve always been detached from my life, ready for it to end at any second and be okay with it, but not like this. There’s no dignity in dying like this.
    “You will be fine. How many times do I have to say it?”
    “You said it yourself,