Page 131 of Pistols & Peonies

He grins, dark eyes brimming with pride. “Give him hell, baby.”

“Slay! Slay! Slay!”

The chant rolls through the crowd like a wave as the ref signals that the second round is about to start, echoing off the walls and bouncing from the rafters.

I roll my shoulders as I step into the center, eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Kane. He’s front and center, watching me like I’m the only thing in the room, the bond humming low and steady beneath my skin. There’s something comforting about its constant presence; a grounding force that has me more focused than ever before.

Reaper takes his place across from me, swiping a forearm across his still-bleeding nose. I landed a clean hit at the end of the first round, drawing first blood to a chorus of fanfare. The crowd’s now firmly on my side, and if the look in Reaper’s eyes is anything to go by, he’s pissed off about it.

Which is why the moment the bell dings, he comes in fast.

I let him, already anticipating his approach and giving a little ground. I let him throw, let him push, let him think he’s got control of the rhythm while I stay light on my feet, dodging blows. I clock his every move, just waiting for my opening.

He switches his lead foot, swinging wide.

There.

I step inside the arc of it, driving a sharp strike into his ribs with my knee– precise, controlled, and just enough to knock the breath out of him. He grunts, stumbling half a step, and the crowd roars their appreciation.

Reaper recovers quicker than I expect, coming at me again. But he’s angrier this time. Sloppier.

Good.

His fist snaps out, but I slip the hit, pivoting and bringing my elbow up hard into the side of his head. He drops to one knee, and I step back, giving him a chance to push up and shake it off, drawing it out for the spectacle.

“Done yet?” I taunt, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Reaper lunges at me with a snarl, and I meet him head-on this time, the two of us trading blows while the audience loses their minds. Then he goes to kick me in the flank, and I catch him by the calf, sweeping his other foot out from underneath him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the mat.

He lands hard, and I’m on him in an instant, my knees digging into the meat of his thighs and my forearm pressed tight against his throat. My weight’s not enough to hold him on its own, but my positioning is everything. I press down harder on his throat, restricting his air. He claws at my arm, forgetting to protect his face, and I land another hard hit to his nose, bone crunching beneath my fist.

It doesn’t take long after that. I get a couple more hits in, then Reaper’s hand darts out, tapping against the mat. The ref declares me the winner, grabbing me by the hand and hauling me to my feet while the crowd goes wild.

Hundreds of eyes are on me, but there’s only one pair I see. Dark, intense, and smoldering with the kind of heat that threatens to set me ablaze.

The noise is still crashing around me when I climb down from the ring, adrenaline humming under my skin. Kane’s at my side immediately, his hand closing around my elbow to guide me out of the main flow of bodies. He steers me straight for the locker room, pushing inside and letting the door swing closed behind us, sealing us away from the chaos and prying eyes.

“Show-off,” he murmurs, spinning me around and pushing me up against the door.

I laugh, still a little breathless. “Had to save my own event.”

“You didn’t save it,” he says as his gaze drags over me, slow and thorough, checking for damage.

I lift a brow. “No?”

His eyes ping back up to mine, hand sliding to my waist and pulling me in. “You owned it.”

My pulse skips, breath catching. I brace my palms against his chest, gazing up at him. “You gonna report me, Commander?”

He tilts his head, lips curving in a grin. “Nah, I think I’ll let this one slide.”

Kane leans in to kiss me, and for once in my life, everything feels like it’s finally fallen into place. Like this is the way things were always meant to wind up, and I was just the last to know.

Whether it was fate or fury that got us here, I’m glad we fought our way through.

That now we’re not fighting against each other, but beside one another.

Because we’re better together.