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Milo just chuckles lightly as he steps forward. He slowly rolls up the sleeves of his white, and most likely expensive, buttoned down shirt. Like rolling the sleeves up are going to prevent his blood from dripping all over it.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed, boy.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Boy? Really? What are you? Fifty? I’m at least three years older than you.”
“You are going to feel like a boy when I’m through with you.” He throws another punch in my direction. This time more precise. Again I duck out of the way before he makes contact.
I see the anger etched in his face. His cheeks redden, the veins in his eyes darken, and the scowl on his face tenses. I know what he’s going to do and this time I let him. I don’t shy away from physical contact. Not when I know I’ll be able to get some good damage back.
He charges at me, wrapping his arms around me as he slams me into the wall behind. My fingers crunch against the concrete, but otherwise, I absorb the impact, keeping my head from hitting the wall. As long as I don’t let him get a good head slam into the concrete, I’ll win.
“When is the next game?” he pants.
I smile. “Think you are going to cause too much damage I won’t be able to fight against Kai?”
He punches me hard in the stomach. I tense my abs, trying to absorb the punch.
“When is it?” he growls.
“I don’t know. Archard, the man in charge of running the games, only gives us twenty-four hours notice before the game starts.”
Milo huffs, and I take the opportunity to knee him hard in the stomach as payback. It takes a lot of energy to lift my leg as the chains are heavy, but it’s well worth the energy when Milo doubles over and releases me.
My eyes seer with pleasure as I kick him again and again. “You should have tied my feet better if you didn’t want me to fight back.”
Milo takes a step back, trying to catch his breath again. This man may not have had my childhood, but he’s dealt with his fair share of blows before. It doesn’t take him long to recover.
“What is the next game?” he growls.
So that’s what this is. I realize after the second question. He wants answers. He wants assurance that I can give him my empire without him having to fight. And he wants to punish me as he does it.
Fine, I’ll enjoy extracting my own blood while we do business. Maybe it will take away from the pain in my chest.
He rams me again, this time my head coming dangerously close to slamming into the concrete wall.
“Don’t know. Each of our fathers took turns picking out a game. The next game was created by Kai’s father. So it will probably play to her strengths as did the first game,” I say, before headbutting him, breaking his nose.
I grin as it sits crooked on his face with blood gushing.
I’ve had my own nose broken dozens of times. It isn’t the most painful place to g
et hit, but it’s always a bruise to the ego since tears almost always come hand in hand with the gush of blood. You can’t stop it. The punch is too close to the tear ducts.
I smile wider when I see the tears. “Pussy. You had enough?”
He growls and spits blood out. “You think a broken nose is going to stop me?”
“No, I fucking hope it doesn’t, otherwise I’m giving my empire to a pussy.”
He runs at me again. I try to side-step him, but he’s more nimble since he isn’t shackled. He dives for my legs taking me down hard. My head hits the concrete floor causing a gash to my head. But I’m still conscious. Although, I’m sure it’s enough for a concussion.
“I’m not sure I picked the strongest after all,” he spits as he takes cheap shot after cheap shot to my face.
I growl before using my head against his again, knocking him back.
I don’t argue with him about whether he picked the strongest. I may be physically strong, but Kai is strong in a way I will never be. She is worthy. She is strong because she wants to be, not because her father taught her lesson after lesson.
“How many rounds are left?” he asks.
