Chapter Two-Hundred and Forty-Nine

Clarissa watched the monitor in the helicopter, able to see that John's back was scabbed over and bloody as he fought. She bit her lip as John took a hit to the jaw, covering her mouth to keep the sob inside. "Thomas…" She gripped his hand with white knuckles, looking up at her husband as Asher touched her back. "We need to stop this…"

Asher shook his head, adjusting the straps on the bullet-proof vest to make it fit his chest perfectly. "As long as he holds his own and doesn't lose, he'll be fine." He kissed Sara on the cheek as he pulled a civilian shirt over the vest, placing a pistol in the waistband of his jeans. "If he can't hold on for another two fights…" he hated to think of the consequences of a loss, "it's a kill arena… if he can't hold out… they kill him on the spot." He pulled on a parachute, pushing the door to his copter open. "Sara, pull left a little, there's a spot about twenty yards from the fight club." His voice was static through the microphone helmets. He smirked as he turned around stepping onto the landing gear. "See you down there." He tipped backwards, freefalling for a while before he pulled the chute and floated the rest of the way.

"He is definitely John's uncle." Thomas laughed, watching the white of the chute disappear as Asher folded it up.

Clarissa rushed to put a parachute on, leaping out of the copter without a second thought. She didn't know the first thing about skydiving, but she followed her instincts to save her children. She stumbled as her feet hit the ground, gripping Asher's arms as he steadied her. "Take me to him." She ordered, able to see the same spark of fight in Asher's eyes that she often saw in John's own.

He smirked, cocking a brow at the unusual fire in the woman he saw as his sister-in-law. "You're not afraid?" He asked, his eyes sparking with something in the golden amber.

"I want my children back." She stated, running after him as he bolted for the fight clubs.

John flinched as the gun went off, closing his eyes tight when his opponent dropped dead on the mat. He had to fight the vomit rising in his throat, the sight of so much blood causing the image of Sid's body to flash behind his eyes.

"Devil Diego!" The MC announced, waving up a man only a few years older than John. "Fighting the reigning champion, Chico Demonio!"

John heaved a breath forcing the memory back, he squared his shoulders, but stopped when he noticed that this wasn't the blood-thirsty fighters he'd become used to, this was someone who was fighting for someone he cared for. He stepped toward the guy, leaning in to speak to him without being caught. "I'll make a deal with you. If we bring this to a draw fight, it's a fifty-fifty shot we both walk out alive or both end up in the ground."

Diego nodded, happy that if he killed this kid that he would die with him. "Why are you doing this?" He asked, noticing some odd movements out of the corner of his eye.

"You've got kids. I can tell a dad when I see one. I'm seven…" he thought for a moment, counting the days since he'd been taken, "Eighteen… I don't have kids and I'd rather give kids back their dad, than kill him."

Diego smiled, ducking as John took a swing for his head. "Damn!" He exclaimed, landing a hit on John's chest. "You don't take it easy, do you?"

John smirked, the blood on his teeth from the other fights making him look even more demonic than his title. "Has to look real."

Clarissa bit her lip as John seemed to be weakening in his swings, fully aware of what he was doing —he was throwing the fight. "No… don't throw it John… not here…"

Asher slipped through the crowd, completely unnoticed. He seemed more like a ghost than Asher, his feet silent in the roar of the crowd. His eyes landed on Jacob, his lip curling in disgust as his brother forced his niece to watch.

Gunshots rang out, and Asher was vaguely aware of John dropping to the ground and covering his head.

Jacob bolted for his son, the black vests of the US SWAT team setting him off as he pulled a pistol from his jeans. "Back off! I'll kill this son of a bitch if you take another step!" He pressed the barrel to John's temple, smiling at the hesitation in the team's eyes.

John pretended to go limp, pulling Jacob forward with his weight and slamming his head into his father's nose with a crunch. "MOM!" He bolted for Clarissa, barely getting six steps before a searing pain exploded in his side. He screamed, tears spilling from his eyes as he hit the ground. "MOMMA!" he pressed his hand to his side, panic rising in his chest at how wet it was.

Clarissa fought to get to him, even going as far as to punch her husband when he restrained her. "He's calling for me! Let me go to him!"

Thomas shook his head, pulling her to shelter as the lead started flying. "I'm not letting you get shot too."

John screamed for his foster parents, craving the comfort he'd been denied for so long. "Momma! Dad!" He sobbed, gasping when someone grabbed his biceps and looped his arms over their heads. "Hans… Diego…" He asked, his vision already starting to go dark.

Hans nodded, holding Phoebe close to his hip as they rushed toward where he'd seen the redheaded couple disappear to. "We've got you kid. Don't worry." He grinned when he saw the pair, laying John down and applying pressure to the wound on his body. "He's losing blood fast. We need a transfusion. What's his blood type?" He asked, his hands completely steady as he fashioned a makeshift transfusion devise.

"AB Positive." Clarissa answered, hiding John's head in the curl of her body as he sobbed.

"Fuck…" Hans cursed, fully aware that finding that type would be near impossible. "Phoebe, do you know what type you are?"

She nodded, remembering that Ryan had made everyone in the house memorize what they were. "I'm O Positive."

Hans sighed in relief, turning to Diego. "Start heating up something metal. We need to cauterize this." He poked Phoebe's arm, giving her a soft piece of fabric to squeeze before he lined the other end of the transfusion device up with John's veins. "He's gonna scream, but whatever you do, do not jump or panic. If he doesn't get blood into him soon, he'll go into cardiac arrest and he won't make it to the hospital."

Phoebe nodded, watching as Hans took a glowing red knife from Diego and pressed it to John's bleeding side. She covered her ears as his scream nearly shattered her eardrums, sobbing with the sound.

Clarissa curled even tighter around his head, fighting the tears until he finally lost consciousness. "I see trees of green… red roses too… I see them bloom, for me and you…" She couldn't finish the song, the smell of burning flesh nearly choking her as she remembered that this was John's skin they were burning. "Please… please, God… don't take him from me…"