Page 7 of Fractured Memories

One member of the medical staff leans against the cage wall near the door. Another person who won’t intervene, but fighters can prepay them to save their life—without interrupting the fight. I’ve seen a handful of matches nearly end in both fighters killing each other, but a medic was able to save the winner in time. For a price, of course.

The fighters are always last, and as soon as the first emerges, the crowd outside the cage starts to get rowdy. I spot Jude tense out of the corner of my eye. He hates when there are too many variables.

Granted, he’s taken a bullet for me before and has a gnarly scar and a permanent ache from it, so maybe I can’t blame him. Not that I haven’t been shot a number of times myself. But Jude wasn’t born into this life like I was.

I take in the massive guy that has the crowd already shouting. He must be a professional here, given his clear reputation and the scars covering his exposed torso. Small white marks dot his skin, too, telling me that at one point he was lower class. Only those who grew up that close to the valley are peppered in toxic scars like that.

I have very few from being up in the mountains. Most of my scars are from weapons—earned, like I like to say.

But the woman who emerges behind him is what really turns the crowd into a frenzy. She doesn’t even look in their direction as she steps out onto the mat, rolling her shoulders back, but fuck, I can’t take my eyes off of her.

She is gorgeous. Her thick, black curls are swept back into a high style, leaving them cascading down her back and keeping her face unobscured. I take in her high cheekbones and angular jaw, her lithe form that is carved out of muscle and outlined beautifully in her dark outfit. The thigh sheaths she’s wearing make my mouth water, and I find myself eager to see her draw her blades.

Every inch of her looks absolutely lethal in a way that is threatening to make me fucking hard.

And her eyes. Even from across the cage, I can see how bright they are. They are a golden brown, piercing even in the dark light.

She, too, is covered in scars. Though I notice most that dot her skin look older and are clearly from the toxic air. Few appear to be from the fights themselves. Which means that she either is new or she rarely gets touched.

Given her loud fan club, I have a feeling I know the answer.

I tip my head back, and Jude leans forward to hear me. “Do you know either of them?”

“The man on the right, yeah. He often takes challenges for class climbers—typically business owners or those that manage the supply chain.”

I nod, having expected this. He has a confidence about him as he stretches, telling me he’s done this plenty of times. Upper class challenges mean that they are much more difficult but come with a higher payday.

“The woman?” I ask, still unable to keep from staring. If she can fight as good as she looks, this is going to be an incredible match.

“I’m not sure.” I don’t have to turn my face to know that he is frowning. Jude hates not knowing an answer. “I can find out.”

I hold up my hand. I’m not sure I want to know yet. Maybe I can pry my answer out of her later.

If she survives.

The man turns, grinning at the crowd. He riles them up a little more before glancing over the spectators sitting across the mat. It’s clear he doesn’t expect much of a reaction out of them, but his eyes freeze on me. I raise a brow, and I can see him already mentally shifting his plan for tonight knowing I’m watching.

The woman, however, doesn’t take her gaze off her opponent. She’s a smart girl, cataloging the blades sheathed across his chest and the longer one strapped at his back. She’s already planning, and I find myself leaning forward as the timer runs out and a buzzer cuts through the air.

I’m mildly surprised when neither of them reaches for a weapon, despite the start of the fight. Instead, the woman lunges forward and sends the man into retreat. He reaches for her, clearly more interested in close combat, but she dodges his hands at every move.

She slowly pushes him back, and I realize what she’s doing when they end up against the cage wall. He doesn’t have the space to draw his longer blade from his back. She’s taken away one of his options.

He finally grabs her, shifting his weight as if he’s going to flip them and pin her to the chain-link fencing. It would give him a lot of advantages.

Only he doesn’t realize she didn’t move because she was too busy reaching forward. She rips one of his smaller blades from its sheath on his chest, and as he steps, she jams the knife into the soft spot above his knee. She combines that with a kick, her weight already shifted back because of his hold on her, and he drops to the injured knee.

I shift forward, my interest only growing. I’ve seen plenty of violence, but never have I been so enraptured before. Watching the way she works through this is fascinating.

The man wraps an arm around her waist as he drops, using his weight to shift forward and slam her back into the mat. But she’s already rolling before he can pin her. She’s back on her feet, gaining space that she needs.

He rips a new blade free as he pushes back up to standing, no longer content to let her take the lead. He rushes her, and to my surprise, she doesn’t leap out of the way. Instead, she takes the brunt of his hit, slamming to the mat.

She shifts before they even fully land, getting her knee up against his shoulder and rolling. It flips them and allows her to wrap those long legs around his neck while she twists his wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon.

Tossing it away, I notice that she’s managed to cost him two of his blades without even drawing her own. But his strength makes up for the lack of weapons when he grips her thigh and sits up, only to slam back down.

The force is enough to loosen her hold, and he shifts on top of her, landing blow after blow to her ribs. She looks pinned now, unable to fight off his weight.