Page 8 of Fractured Memories

Until she stops protecting her face, instead dropping a hand down to twist the blade above his knee. Shoving his leg back, he collapses as she rolls them again. But it’s clear she’s pissed now, given the way her eyes blaze, and she rips the knife from his leg.

Immediately, blood starts to gush, and I have no doubt that he won’t be able to put any weight on it. But the woman ensures that when she reaches behind her and slices the back of his other heel, severing the tendon. Before he can recover, she’s back on her feet and out of his reach.

Blood is soaking the mat now, and the audience is screaming. There seems to be equal support for the fighters as many shout for him to get up. But I can see the tremble in his muscles from here. He made a mistake the second he let her take the lead, and now he’s paying for it.

Still, he tries to follow her, relying on his upper body strength to push himself upright and pull out the last knife from the sheath across his chest. He flips it, pinching the tip, and flicks his wrist.

It’s good. I’ll give him that. Most people wouldn’t have been able to dodge it given how fast he moved and how accurate his aim is.

But the woman steps out of the way before it fully leaves his hand like she knew he would do it. Like she anticipated it being his last resort.

She rushes him before he can even process that he missed, leaping at the last second to wrap her leg around his throat and flipping him forward so that he’s locked in a chokehold between her thighs. His hands struggle to pull her off of him, caught in her grip, but she leans forward, grabbing the handle of the last weapon—the longer blade strapped to his back.

“You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you?” She rips it out as he sputters, too weak from the blood loss to pry her off of him. Fuck, the sultry tone of her voice makes me wish she were threatening me instead. “I didn’t think so.”

She rolls to the side, giving him the breath he desperately needed. He sucks in two greedy gasps before he’s choking all over again. But this time, it’s because she plunged the blade straight into his throat.

She steps back, admiring her handiwork with a soft look of pride on her face. And fuck, I’ve never seen anything hotter.

I’m impressed by the entire match. Her blades never even left her sheaths. It’s clear why she’s so damn good—she’s strategic as hell.

Unlike the start of the fight, she spins toward the crowd, taking a dramatic bow and giving them a wave. When they scream in excitement, a grin pulls at her lips.

Then, she turns toward the smaller group of interior spectators, doing another bow. As she straightens, her eyes land on me—and they don’t move.

Our gazes stay locked as she stands, everyone still screaming around us. I know she must recognize me, but she doesn’t cower or look awestruck—which is a common reaction here at the cages where people love the blood and violence I am so frequently bathed in.

Instead, those lips curl up more, and she blows me a fucking kiss, like I’m an adoring fan. Like I’m lucky to be in her presence.

Then she turns on her heel, stalking off toward the door that leads out of the cage, her dark curls swinging behind her. And I sit stunned as I stare after her, feeling shaken down to my core.

* * *

Two weeks later…

Lochlan’s shoulder shoves mine, shaking me out of my thoughts. When I cut my eyes at him, he raises a brow.

It’s only then I realize that the weapons manager and Jude are both staring at me, too. Which means I missed something when I stopped listening.

“What?” I ask, not giving a fuck if they know I’m bored out of my mind.

Ever since we decided we were coming down the mountain, I’d been tempted to tell Jude I was going to the cages. After the last fight I watched, I’ve known better than to chase after a woman that was clearly nothing but trouble. Full of fire and spirit that I’d love to let burn me, even if it was a bad idea.

Unfortunately, I’ve been trained a little too hard to make logical decisions, and I suppose—logically—the woman is no good for me. She’s cunning. Probably unpredictable. And someone that I shouldn’t be getting close to.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve thought about her nonstop. Even though I forced myself to leave after her match and never asked Jude to find out her name. I thought I could put her out of my mind, but she’s been there, eating away at my sanity.

I’m not sure I even want to stay sane if it means I have to keep away from her.

She’s gorgeous and violent, a perfect storm. Given that little kiss she blew me, I bet she’d have a sick sense of humor—my favorite.

And every part of me has been dying to find out.

“You good with the shipment?” Jude leans in to ask, clearly noticing I missed the question being repeated.

I just give him a nod, knowing if there was a problem, he or Lochlan would have caught it. Instead, I’m rethinking my stance of heading across the city. Maybe I should get my hands a little bloody, find a new high to ride.

“I’ll get these boxed up,” Lochlan says as he glances over at me. I can tell he’s trying to subtly ask me what the fuck my problem is.