Page 85 of Essence of Fear

He winked back at her.

She had nothing to worry about.

The sounds of the people roaring and banging on the cage deafened to a quiet murmur in the back of his mind as he turned his attention back to the man just a couple of feet away. Gunner was already throwing out a punch, and Pav had been expecting that. He ducked it, but barely, causing the man’s fist to land right against the flexible chain of the cage. Just as fast, Pav hooked the man in his right kidney with a hit that he was sure would have taken his breath away. It definitely made the man take a couple of steps back.

It was enough.

Enough for Pav to move away and take a second to reevaluate what was going to happen in this cage. He played with the guy for a while, bouncing from one end of the cage to the other. He had fast feet and faster hands. That was before he counted in his keen eye, and ability to pick out anybody’s weakness in less than thirty seconds. He let Gunner land a couple of easy hits—nothing to his face and nothing that even hurt.

And then, Pav got bored.

He tasted the blood in his mouth from that first fight—felt those bruises and broken bones again. He remembered the way the crowd had laughed when he’d lost, and how someone had shouted for his first opponent to kill him while he was almost passed out on the mat.

He thought about the damp, hard cement floor where he’d healed for days after, and the way he’d barely been better before they’d dragged him back for another round.

Those memories were scars now.

Like so many others.

Scars on his mind that he liked to pick at and irritate when he needed a reminder of just how far he could push his body before it would break. He never broke—not really.

Death was already dead.

One couldn’t kill it.

Maybe his nickname was appropriate.

Gunner came for him when Pav put himself in the corner; the man should have recognized that was a bad idea. Nobody willingly put themselves into a corner if they didn’t have a sure way out of it in a cage.

Well, Pav didn’t, anyway.

Gunner reared back with a punch, while Pav kept his face covered and weaved back and forth just enough to make it seem like he cared if the man landed the hit. The punch came hard to his shoulder, sending Pav jerking back into the cage. But that was okay, too. It was where he’d already found the man’s weakness.

It seemed whenever Gunner landed a good hit, he took a second to enjoy the sight of it before he went back in for a round of fast punches, one after another. The man moved back an inch, but Pav was already there grabbing his wrist before he could even pull his arm back from the punch he landed.

Pav punched down hard, right into Gunner’s inner elbow—the popping crunch that answered the punch as he broke the man’s elbow was a satisfying sound. Gunner shouted, already trying to pull away but it was too late. He was fucking ruined.

He went in again.

Pav aimed a punch to Gunner’s mouth, a harder hit to his throat, and then he swung around with a roundhouse kick that landed right to the middle of the man’s chest. One right after the other—smack, smack, smack. It sent the man flying, bleeding from the mouth with his eyes rolling back in his head.

He wasn’t getting back up.

“Zhatka!”

He heard the guy calling for him when the man landed to the mat, done for. The guy probably thought Pav was going in for the kill as he loomed over Gunner’s body. That’s what he would do any other time he was brought here to fight.

They didn’t know the truth.

That was the only way he could get out the anger and darkness in his head. He had no outlet inside the Compound—the chambers offered him nothing but loneliness and rage. He got it all out in these cages, when he was allowed.

Now, though …

Pav turned away from the man on the mat and headed for the corner of the cage where Viktoria was waiting for him with his jacket and shoes. His knuckles ached like nothing else, but he was barely paying attention to them as he climbed over the cage. He slipped his shoes on and was shrugging on his jacket as she kissed him hard. Her smile forming against his lips had him chuckling.

“Told you,” he murmured.

She shook her head, and those soft hands of hers cupped his face. “I pick the next spot.”