Chapter 38: Angry people are not always wise.
He can’t even begin to say how he’d ended up here. Or perhaps he can.
Perhaps this is exactly what he deserves.
Perhaps this is all he’s even good for anymore.
* * *
A man twice Edmund’s size leaps at him, both fists raised above his head to come down at once.
Lithe as ever, Edmund ducks out from under the imminent threat, twisting to land an elbow in the small of the man’s back, sending him flying into the side of the ring. He hits the top bar with a bad crunch, while Edmund dances lightly out of the way.
The entire room bates its breath for a knockout, but just as the referee is about to call “THREE!”, Edmund’s adversary finds his feet.
The man is clearly wheezing now, which Edmund’s ingrained medical training tells him means that, at best, he’s cracked a rib and, at worst, its perforated a lung. If he kills this man, not only does he lose all his winnings and get banned from the club, but they give him over to the authorities for murder. Those are the rules.