Page 111 of Trapped Truth

“Something like that.” Axel nudges his shoulder into mine.

“Make it fifty, and you’re on.”

“Damn, babe. You’re confident.”

“No… I just think Blaine’s that pissed off right now.”

Watching him bob around on light feet, observing Gunnar for any hints of his tactics, I do feel confident in my bet. Gunnar’s got the skill and violence down pat. Blaine has precision and blind fury on his side, though.

Without anyone to intervene, Gunnar is free to launch the first attack. Moving faster than the speed of light, he vaults the sofa that separates them, landing in the living area. With a single blink, he’s on Blaine, releasing a flurry of punishing blows.

“Goddamn.” Axel whistles.

“He moves fucking fast.”

“Get ready to pay up, Em. You’re gonna lose.”

With an audible hiss, Blaine propels his fist directly into Gunnar’s jaw. Spit flies through the air. I cringe at the sound, but it doesn’t take long for Gunnar to respond in kind with a solid jab to the midsection.

Another strike to the head. Ribcage. Fists blurring as they trade violence. Without breaking a sweat, Gunnar tosses Blaine across the middle of the space, leaving him to crumple. Before I can intervene, Blaine’s on his feet, delivering punch after punch in a bloodthirsty rage.

They’re evenly matched. Neither man seems to outweigh the other in skill or strength. After fighting Blaine myself, I know how well-honed those instincts are. But Gunnar’s aggression manifests differently. He lashes out like he has a bottomless well of grievances to fuel his muscles.

“They’re going to beat each other senseless at this rate.” I clutch my glass, struggling to track the flurry of skin and fists.

“Might not be a bad thing.”

“Should I intervene?”

“Don’t you dare, Em.” Axel quickly shakes his head. “You’ve thrown yourself into too many fights as it is.”

I’m tempted to ignore him and wrestle the snarling beasts apart regardless. If I didn’t believe Axel would follow and probably re-injure himself, I’d already be in the middle of them.

Knocking back the rest of my liquor is a welcome distraction from Blaine hitting the floor again, his face now marred by a bloody trail. A cut has opened up next to his eyebrow. Meanwhile, Gunnar seems unharmed. Perhaps they’re not so evenly matched after all.

“Do you yield?”

“Fuck you.” Blaine wipes blood from his face.

“I can do this all night, Phantom.”

Before Blaine can find his feet, Gunnar knocks him back onto his spine with a well-placed kick to the side. I watch the air shoot from Blaine’s nostrils. He sprawls out in a heap, making no attempt to respond.

“Stay down.” Gunnar uses his forearm to mop up his sweat.

I ditch my glass then move closer, intent to break them up. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“I’m not done,” Blaine wheezes.

“Yes. You are.”

“Sure you don’t want me to knock him out?” Chuckling, Gunnar peers down at his victim. “That’d make him rest.”

“Thanks for the offer. You can go back to your post now.”

“Whatever you say.”

With him sidling out of the way, I’m free to crouch at Blaine’s side. He bats away my hand, twisting his head away to hawk up a globule of bloody saliva.