Chapter 10 - THE CAGE BENEATH THE CLUB
Police had heard rumors but never had enough evidence.
Grant gave them an address.
Moretti Consolidated owned part of the building through Dominic’s uncle.
He looked sick.
“How deep does this go?”
Grant answered, “Deep enough.”
Federal investigators became involved because the gambling crossed state lines.
A young woman named Tessa Reed.
Twenty-two.
Former kickboxer.
Hospitalized after one of Miles’s events.
Her contract listed debt to the Whitmore Foundation.
Medical assistance in exchange for participation.
They created debt, then used it to control fighters—just like Mom’s insurance.
The pattern was older than me.
I asked to speak with Tessa.
She agreed.
Her left hand still shook from nerve damage.
“Miles tells you everyone chooses to fight,” she said.
“Did you?”
“I chose between fighting and losing my sister’s cancer treatment.”
That was not a choice.
“Did Vanessa attend?”
Tessa laughed.
“She picked matchups.”
My stomach turned.
The birthday cake suddenly made sense in a worse way.
Vanessa had been trying to see what would wake the fighter in me.
And it worked.
Tessa looked at my face.
“She’ll come after you.”
“She already has.”
“No.”
Tessa leaned forward.
“I mean personally. Vanessa cannot stand losing control of a person she thinks belongs to her.”
That night, my suspended delivery account was reinstated.
Then immediately flooded with one order.
Pickup: Moretti estate.
Drop-off: private address downtown.
Customer note:
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR MOTHER'S INSURANCE RESTORED.
I showed police.
They told me not to respond.
Mom said the same.
Dominic said absolutely not.
So for once, I listened.
The delivery address was empty.
Inside the apartment, police found a chair.
A camera.
And a printed photograph of me kneeling in the birthday cake.
May you like
Across my face, someone had written:
ROUND ONE.
