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If you need help in any way, I am here, in the room. Quinn's voice swept into my mind, as comforting as a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I found a guard with similar weight, coloring, and height.
A guard who was undoubtedly feeding the fish in the lake as we spoke. I ducked under a sweeping slash of blade, then spun and kicked. Moss sucked in his gut, and my blow missed. Not so his knife. It sliced across my foot and damn near took off a toe. I snarled in frustration and pain and Moss laughed.
He was enjoying himself. I was happy for him. Truly. A condemned man should always enjoy his last meal.
I watched him warily, even as I said to Quinn, You're in the room and not taking the chance to kill Starr yourself? I leaned back to miss the sweep of Moss's fist, and slashed at his arm with my knife. It missed, but at that point I didn't really care. Why?
Because there is a sharpshooter sitting in the shadows at the opposite end of the arena to Starr. He has orders to kill you if you win.
I backed away, and swiped at the sweat running down my forehead with a bloody arm. Confidence fairly oozed from Moss's pores and yet there was annoyance in his eyes. Which didn't make sense when he thought he was winning... my gaze skimmed his body and saw the problem. He wasn't getting an erection. He needed fear to get it up, and I wasn't giving it to him.
I waved the knife at his inactive bits. "Hard to rape a girl when there's no action happening downstairs. Maybe you really do prefer boys."
He snarled and attacked. Again and again. I dodged, attacking him when opportunities arose, taking hits every now and again but never truly deep ones. And all the while, I kept backing away.
The smell of blood and death began to touch the air. We were close to the bodies. Very close.
He lunged forward. I jumped backward. My feet hit Merle's body, but rather than steadying myself, I went with the momentum of the fall. Moss laughed and raised the knife, the bloody blade glittering silver as the lights caressed it. I twisted in the air so that I landed on my side, then thrust an arm under Nerida's body. My hand touched the barrel of a gun, my fingers burning with the closeness of silver even as I gripped the handle.
As the air screamed with the force of Moss's oncoming blow, I pulled the gun free, aimed at Starr, and shot his fucking brains out.
A second shot rang out almost simultaneously, and Moss fell backward, a small hole in the middle of his forehead.
Quinn, finishing things off.
I took a deep breath and slowly released it.
It was over. Done.
Moss was dead, Starr was dead, and pandemonium was beginning to erupt around the arena.
And like it or not, I'd just stepped over the line and become a fully-fledged guardian. ts of bone and blood and gray matter sprayed across the sand, she slumped back down and didn't move. Merle fell like a stone beside her.
A wisp that seemed little more than steam but was much, much more began to rise from her body. The dead moved in to collect their prize.
I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Nerida had her revenge - or part of it, at least. But heaven - or whatever it was that fox-shifters believed in - was now beyond her reach. Hell was her resting place. A hell that involved an eternity of torment from the ghosts of those she'd killed.
"No!" Berna's scream seemed to echo around and around the arena. No one moved, no one said anything. Not even me.
"Well, that was unexpected." Amusement rode Starr's voice. Maybe he had other Merles in the making, so it didn't matter if he lost this one. He was still staring at me, challenging me. There was no sign of anything other than the certainty that he would get what he wanted in those soulless depths. What he wanted was me to fight. But my fate would not be death, like Nerida, but something far worse. A one-way trip to the hell of the breeding pens.
But even as I sat there, returning his arrogant, overconfident, insane gaze, the wolf within rose snarling to the surface. This bastard had beaten me, drugged me, and all but destroyed my white-picket-fence-and-babies dream. Worse still, he'd beaten my brother to a pulp. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.
I needed revenge. Needed it. Now.
I might fear the fate I saw in his eyes, and I certainly feared the man himself, but I'd be damned if I could sit here any longer cowering like a newborn pup. If I was going to fight, then I'd damn well do it my way. It might not change the outcome, but at least I'd go down fighting.
"Are there any other grievances I should know about?" he continued. "Is there anyone else who feels the need to challenge my lieutenant or myself?"
The wise remained silent.
No one would ever accuse me of being wise.
I rose to my feet. The gun barrel rested against my neck again, so cold against my skin. I twisted, punched the man holding the weapon in the balls, then grabbed the gun as he went down. A dozen other weapons were instantly aimed in my direction.
I dangled the useless weapon from a finger and smiled. "Tell them to fire, Starr. I dare you."
He didn't take up the dare. Surprise, surprise. "What do you want?"
