I’ll Burn Anyone (The Challenge Night Series Book 2)

by K. L Mann

Luca Caruso

  16 Years Old

  The crowd is bigger.

  Feels that way at least; in the dark. Fight Light Night happens once a year, and I’ve only ever done it once before. The usual underground club I scrap at hosts this as the big money maker. They’d probably do it more often, but it’s illegal as fuck, so keeping it under wraps is a priority. Anything that’s themed like this draws a crowd, which draws more money into my shitty pockets.

  The gimmick is pretty simple, we fight in neon lights. It’s like a rave threw up in the building. The neon orange and green colors are a bitch to look at. Everything is distracting, and obnoxious, but I’m going to make six months’ worth of fights for only three brawls tonight so I drown it out. I’d been fighting here for nearly three years

  now, never losing once. Of course, there have been close calls, but I’m a stubborn bastard.

  “You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Barsimeo says for the fifth time in the last hour. He’s a good kid and for many reasons, my best friend despite the fact that he’s only 14.

  “We’ve been friends for six years man, you just figuring this out?”

  He grimaces and rubs his temples. “I get it, you’re a fighting machine, but three fights in one night is risky. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I snort. “Aw, you care about my well-being. How sweet,” I mock him even though I get it. We’re all each other has most of the time. I’m worried about him too and he’s only fighting once. He’s scrappy as fuck too, he’s got more potential than me the way I see it.

  He frowns and I sigh, holding my fist out for him to hit it. “I’ll be fine, Giorgio is a cakewalk, I plan to KO Donnie in round two and Pope is my only actual competition. He’s a cocky bastard and planning to tire me out, we both know I got stamina for fucking days. I got this, man.”

  His shoulders let loose as he relaxes into my reassurance. “Pope favors the left, you gotta trip him up.”

  This kid.

  “Good lookin’ out brother,” I say, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “Christian is your only concern, hit low, rumor has it he’s got fucked up legs from a few nights ago.”

  “You know it,” he smirks, starting to wrap his hands.

  The roar of the crowd lets us know the fights have begun. Barsimeo’s fight is coming up, but I’m not worried about him, he’s got this shit.

  We both wrap our hands in silence, mentally going over what we need to do to win.

  I watch his fight from the back of the area, keeping myself concealed from any prying eyes. The fights land some heavy hits, but my brother has his opponent limping by the second round. By the third, he lays him out flat with a knee to the chin.

  Fuck yeah.

  I don’t have time to congratulate him, because I’m up next. I saunter down to the ring, not giving a fuck about the girls screaming my name.

  Sure, it used to be cool to be recognized when I first started. But fighting has never been about getting chicks, it’s always been about surviving.

  Giorgio is as easy of a win as I thought he’d be. I caught him with a nasty uppercut 45 seconds in and the crowd fully freaked the fuck out. The rush of adrenaline feels amazing, but I can’t let it phase me. My next opponent steps into the ring, smirking at the unconscious man like he’d done it himself.

  Donnie makes it through round one like I thought he might, but he falters in the last minute of round two, allowing me to knock the smug look off of his face and his lights the fuck out. As I jump out of the ring, my body is glistening with sweat, but nowhere near exhausted. I have three more fights to sit through until I touch gloves with Pope.

  Finding Barsimeo is easy since he’d been watching. He rants about everything I did right and wrong while I smile about how much he cares. As time ticks down, I find myself less and less intimidated by Pope.

  When I step into the ring with him, it’s over in three rounds. I make the cocky bastard tap out with an arm bar. Two KO’s and a tap out make me $15,000 richer. Rent is paid and I can relax for a month or two without worry, we both can.

  As the building clears out, I stay in the ring, taking it all in. The house lights come up and the neon obnoxiousness fades away.

  “You’ve got some serious potential,” a voice I don’t recognize pulls me out of my daze.

  Two men are approaching the ring, both wearing black suits. One is covered in tattoos, the other has a short scruffy beard. They’re both Italian, that much is obvious, and they’re both watching me carefully.

  “Thanks,” I manage to say after a beat of silence.

  “Why three fights in one night?” The one with tattoos asks.

  Normally I’d tell fans to fuck off, but there is something about them. They carry themselves like they have power oozing out of their very souls, and they’re interested in what I have to say. I feel like they are passing power to me, just by asking me a stupid question, so I answer it.

  “Need the cash,” I answer, my shoulders slumping in a shrug. “Need the violence too I guess.”

  Wow. That was fucking honest.

  I'm not even that honest with myself most of the time. Sometimes I like to think that fighting is a necessary evil, that I only do it for the money. But deep down that’s bullshit, I need the violence too. I need to hit and get hit to feel something.

  “You know what you’re doing with your life yet, kid?” The nontattooed one asks.

  The word kid would normally piss me off, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t even make me flinch.

  “Just surviving like everyone else I guess,” I admit. “Taking care of my friend and me. He was the knee to the face knockout, red shorts. We’re just making it through, you know?”

  The man with the tattoos grunts with a nod. “You wanna do more than just survive?”

  Holy fuck.

  The question hits my stomach like a brutal punch. I’ve heard people talk about life altering moments before. Times when opportunities arise out of nowhere and change your life forever.

  This is one of those moments.

  “Never had the luxury of considering more than just getting by, but fuck yes I want to do more than this. I want a legacy, don’t we all?”

  My answer seems to please them because I swear I can sense their smiles. The men get into the ring with me. It’s intimidating, but not because I'm afraid of them, because they look like home, and I’ve never had a home. They have a plan for me, it’s like I can see the gears turning in their minds about me.

  The one with tattoos sticks his hand out and despite not knowing what we’re shaking over, I take his hand in mine firmly. “Lorenzo Vitale,” he introduces himself.

  “Luca Caruso,” I answer back before moving on to the other man.

  “Gio Colombo.”

  Stunned, my eyebrows shoot up. “You own Club Lucifer.”

  He smirks. “I do. You’ve been?”

  I fucking wish.

  “Nah, I can't afford it. It’s just real famous around here.”

  He nods in understanding. “So, Caruso, how do you feel about a change in career path?”

  “Not sure business is really my strong suit,” I joke. “What did you have in mind?”

  Gio opens his mouth to speak, but stops.

  “Holy fuck,” Barsimeo mutters from behind me just outside of the ring. He jumps up beside me with a terrified look on his face. “Whatever he did, he’s sorry. He’s a street kid, don’t hurt him, he didn’t mean it.”

  Huh?

  The men hold back chuckles as he tries to shield me from them.

  “Dude, what are you doing?”

  “The fuck are you doing,” he hisses back at me. “What did you do to piss off the fucking Demon?”

  The demon?

  What the actual fuck is happening?

  “I appreciate the fear and notoriety, kid,” Lorenzo says. “But I’m not pissed, or here to hurt your friend.”

  Barsimeo relaxes, only a touch, still half standing in front of me. “Neither of you want to hurt him?
You promise?”

  “Yeah kid, we promise,” Gio answers, nodding for good measure.

  “I’m so fucking lost.”

  “I suppose this calls for further introductions,” Lorenzo muses. “Care to discuss your futures over dinner?”

  My friend nearly flinches at my side. “You’re recruiting Luca?”

  “Futures,” Lorenzo repeats. “Plural.”

  “So, dinner?” Gio asks.

  I look to Barsimeo at my side and he nods. He thought these men wanted to hurt me, but now he wants to dine with them?

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Dinner sounds good.”

  Lorenzo and Gio cart Barsimeo and I off in a ridiculously shiny black SUV. The windows are tinted to a nearly pitch-black level and the seats are the softest leather I’ve ever felt. They gave us enough time to change into sweats and t-shirts before we left, but I feel significantly underdressed.

  As we come to a stop in front of a dark brick building, the alley nearby doesn’t exactly boost my confidence in these men’s intentions.

  “You sure you’re not going to kill us?”

  Gio chuckles and Lorenzo rolls his eyes, jumping out of the passenger seat and rounding the car.

  “They wouldn’t need to bring us anywhere to make us disappear man,” Barsimeo whispers before jumping out of the vehicle too.

  Gio and I get out together next and Lorenzo swings open a black door. Dark blue lights pool into the alleyway. And he leads us all inside.

  “This is Lilith’s Lair,” Barsimeo says in awe.

  Gio cocks an eyebrow at him and Lorenzo grins. “You know your stuff, kid. I’d like to know how a 14-year-old kid knows so much about the business, but dinner first.”

  Boy, do I learn a lot during dinner. More than I ever expected, especially considering that Barsimeo already knew most of it. The Vitale mercenaries want me, but not just as a regular program recruit, they want me in their family.

  Gio and Lorenzo plan to train me personally for a thing they call Challenge Night. They want me to move in with them and they want to set Barsimeo up with Gio’s father until he turns 16. They’ll let him enroll in the program then, if he chooses.

  He seems more than pleased with the idea of living with Mr. Colombo, or Lucifer as he's apparently known as. Barsimeo doesn’t have any objections to being separated. Obviously we’ll be allowed to see each other, but it’ll be different for sure. Still, this is an opportunity that shouldn’t be passed on. It’s life altering. It’s mine.

  They want me. These men actually see me as an asset, and they are invested in me. More than anyone has ever been invested in me.

  Luca Caruso, an abused child turned street fighter is desired by a fighting force I didn’t know existed. The Vitale mafia wants me.

  I know from the moment they finish their pitch that I’m going to say yes. It’s not about the money, even though there’s a fuck ton of it being offered to me. It’s about the prospect of having a family. They’ve never done this before; made this kind of offer. But they’ve been watching me for months and have decided they need me.

  Yes, not only want, but need.

  I don’t care that they are a notorious mafia family with seriously lethal connections and abilities. I don’t care that doing this means I kill people for them. All I care about is the feeling that I have a family. Sitting here with Barsimeo, I realize I have two more brothers now.

  “My father is kind of dying to meet you, so I really hope you say yes. He’ll drive me nuts for months if you don’t, maybe years,” Lorenzo says with the most serious yet light tone.

  Father? His father wants me?

  Woah.

  “Never felt that feeling before,” I admit, shaking my head and taking a gulp of water.

  Gio tilts his head. “What feeling?”

  “Having a dad who wants me.”

  Barsimeo nods in agreement, his mouth turning down in a frown.

  Lorenzo makes a face of pity but quickly replaces it with hope. “Consider yourself adopted then, because I haven’t seen him this excited over the prospect of someone working with us in a long time. It was his idea to treat you differently, and we both agreed quickly.”

  “My dad’s a pretty quiet guy, he doesn’t really get excited for things and even he wants to meet you,” Gio adds for good measure.

  “I told you you’d make it big,” Barsimeo taunts with a toothy grin. “At least you can make sure she’s safe now.”

  Shit, I didn’t even think about that.

  Wow I’m an ass.

  “She who?”

  “I uh, got a sister. She’s 7 now I think, and I haven't seen her since she was born. Our uncle got her out of Italy to get away from his brother. He’s been keeping her safe. I want to see her, but I know I can’t drag her into my life. She’s going to have a good life, her name has already changed and I can’t tell her who I am or who her father is, ever.”

  Lorenzo considers what I’ve said and it’s like he can feel my pain. “You’ll go see her after you’ve settled. That is of course, if you are accepting the offer. You can check in with your uncle, pretend to be a babysitter to spend the day with her or something, and then keep tabs remotely. She’ll be safe that way.”

  My heart skips around strangely.

  Everything I’ve ever wanted is being placed in front of me, and all I have to do is say yes.

  Now isn’t the time for hesitation.

  “Okay, I agree.

  Chapter 8: Victory Night

  “Smile, because it confuses people.

  Smile, because it’s easier than explaining

  what is killing you inside.”

  –The Joker

  Luca Caruso

  17 years old

  Holy fucking shit.

  I did it.

  Lorenzo, Gio and papa Vitale burst into cheers as the fight is called. I fucking won.

  I beat out 20 men in marksmanship to get in this ring, and then I beat the final test via submission of all things. I won Challenge Night.

  I’m the fourth person in the entire organization to win this. Applause is deafening and then the man who tapped out moments before this is slapping me on the back, congratulating me. He’s not even pissed that he lost.

  “There’s honor in loss that benefits the whole. Welcome to the organization, Caruso.”

  “Thank you,” I say, firmly shaking his hand.

  I’m quickly pulled away into the proud embrace of Satan. Papa Vitale is ecstatic. “I knew you would do it, mio figlio.”

  My son.

  I’ve never felt this sense of pride before and as Lorenzo and Gio take his place embracing me, I nearly cry. But I’ll be fucking damned if I cry in a room full of trained killers.

  “You did it, brother,” Lorenzo declares, shaking my shoulder to drive the point home.

  “I told you that you got this,” Gio points out, smiling wide with pride.

  “Thank you, for everything,” I rush. “I don't say it often enough. You don’t understand how much you all mean to me.”

  Giovanni Colombo Sr approaches, all business on his face until the last moment where he grins widely. “Never thank anyone for giving you exactly what you deserve, Virbius.”

  Virbius, Italian God of outcasts and outlaws. My name, officially earned and now more meaningful than ever. Lucifer isn’t a huggy sort of guy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hug Gio, but I feel the same appreciation coming from him with his eyes despite no physical contact. He’s helped me a lot over this last year, especially with Barsimeo.

  “Have you told him yet?” Mr. Colombo asks, directing us questions toward papa Vitale.

  More surprises? They’ve already done too much.

  “Told me what?”

  Gio and Lorenzo share a look, a devious one that means they are both excited to have pulled this off. When papa Vitale looks at me brightly, I know that he is thrilled to tell me whatever he’s about to say.

  “Well, no one outside of the family bloo
dline has ever won a Challenge Night, so we voted on how to proceed with your placement,” he says plainly. Wow, already? “We’d like to put you at the top of the mercenaries rank structure, having you run this facility as your major responsibility. This way, you’ll remain in Italy with your family and have a powerful role as you should. You’ll be first in command underneath the bloodline heirs. Fifth in line as of right this moment, sixth in line when Marco comes of age.”

  Holy fuck.

  In my wildest of dreams, this would have never even surfaced as a possibility. I figured I’d be placed on some kind of protection detail to stay close to home.

  I’m so much more than that. He wants me to run the program, to train his men and to be in line for power. I’m at a complete loss.

  “You guys already voted on this? You’re sure?”

  Gio smirks. “It was unanimous.”

  “Jesus, are you trying to make me look like a Bitch and choke up or something? Shit,” I hiss, biting back tears.

  “Dex and Gio will train you for the next couple of months before your birthday. When you turn 18, the program is yours to oversee.”

  Dex, one of the head combat instructors, takes this moment to join our little group in the ring. “Looking forward to working with you, Caruso. We’ve got plans to expand some training aspects of the building and I have a feeling you’ll fit right in. But you gotta work on that whole nice guy thing you have going on. Gio will teach you how to be a ruthless prick all in good time though.”

  Everyone laughs, especially Gio’s father. “Colombo men can be particularly brash and unwavering. You’ll pick it up in no time,” he declares with a smirk.

  “Alright, let’s go. Mamma is probably yelling at staff members left and right stressing over your celebratory dinner. Let’s go save them from her wrath,” Lorenzo says, causing even more laughter. That woman is as sweet as Candy, but can be as obsessed with details as a clinically insane person. The staff are paid well enough to compensate for her outbursts, but I’m sure it’s not so fun to deal with.

  “Lead the way,” I insist with a smile.

  “There’s my boy!” Mamma Vitale throws her arms around me tightly, embracing my sore body. She jerks back to take in my face. “They got you cleaned up but couldn’t close that cut on your lip all the way? Amateurs, all of them,” she tsks.