Page 60 of Heimlock

The announcer introduces The Firecracker. The crowd roars.

When I walk in, he says, “And now! Wings and Claws! Introducing a first-time contender, Trinte the Titan!”

On the inside, I’m rolling my eyes. If contestants don’t have ideas for their show name, Richor gives them one. Yesterday, I told him I didn’t have a preference, but now the revealed title makes me want to cringe.

It’s not far off, though. The Titans were descendents of terrible dragons with no sense of kindness or empathy.

Kind of who I want to be.

The bright light of the arena is blinding, and the screams are deafening. Species of all kinds ring the circular space, with freshly raked sand under my feet. In the center is Kyrielle, wearing her burnt orange and gold leathers that show off her cleavage and muscular limbs. Like a warrior goddess sent to torture me more than I already have been.

Stalking forward to tower over her, I hiss, “I cannot fucking believe you.”

Kyrielle smirks, not backing down. Her hair’s pulled back in intricate braids, exposing the long column of her tantalizing neck.

Shut the fuck up. There’s no reason to remotely find her attractive right now.

“Are you afraid of losing?”

“No,” I snarl. “I’m afraid of killing you.”

She lifts her chin. I’m more than a foot taller than her, and she somehow stares me down like I’m a potential nuisance. “How about we make a bet?”

“A bet?” I know we have hundreds of Gondorans watching us right now — some might even be able to hear our exchange.

“Yes. If I win, I get to ask five questions with full, honest answers. Nothing is off limits.”

My personal nightmare. “And if I win?”

Kyrielle tilts her head. “What do you want?”

“I can ask for anything?”

“Yep.”

Looking into her magma-colored eyes, I consider my options. With more time to think, I probably could’ve come up with something better. But each second of delaying the battle mounts pressure on my brain.

It would be wise to say something dramatic like, you leave me alone forever. But it’s not what I want. What I really want is her. Even though she pisses me the fuck off. Especially right now.

“One more night,” I growl. “Where you submit entirely.”

She’d probably be less surprised if I said she needed to swim in a pool of ice cream. “What?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Uh, guys? Are you ready?” the announcer whispers from a few feet away.

“Fine,” Kyrielle grounds out. Like she dreads the idea. Which means she thinks me winning is an actual possibility.

She has no idea.

We back away from one another, eyes locked. Kyrielle is extremely unaware of the lengths I’ll go to keep my secrets. But she’s about to find out.

When the buzzer sounds, signalling the beginning, I raise my hands. Pouring every ounce of anger into it, I slam lightning into Kyrielle’s body. Her body arches violently, and a scream escapes her lips. It almost makes me falter, but the alternative is having to talk about my father.

The electricity intensifies.

Screams of joy and dismay echo against the walls; I don’t think they’ve ever seen The Firecracker taken out so fast. There’s a good chance Coach didn’t inform her of what I can do.