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FUCK.
“Fine, I will fight. But not him,” I panted as I willed away the electricity from my synapse.
“Then who?”
“How about him?” I pointed to the biggest guy in the prison yard, and this made the guards laugh.
“It’s not going to happen,” the man supervising the fighter stated.
He was probably thinking the mammoth would kill me with one punch, and then they’d be out a fighter.
I would too if I were them. But I wasn’t. I was me, and I knew what I was capable of. They didn’t, but they were about to find out.
“Come on, Pedro. Live a little. We could even make it interesting by giving this bitch your baton,” the man on his left said.
“Are you crazy? We’re not supposed to arm contestants.”
“It’s not like she can do anything about it. If she gets out of line, we zap her,” man numbertwo replied.
“Yeah, fifty says she goes down in ten minutes, even with the baton.”
“Fine, but it’s your funeral. If we’re caught, I’m blaming you.”
I kept myself from smirking when the fool handed me his weapon and twirled the club around to test it.
Heavy, wooden. Wouldn’t do much harm, but painful as heck if it connected with vulnerable body parts.
The supervisor pointed to a black man, who must have been three times my size.
“You, come here. Fight her, but if you damage the merchandise, we will blow your brains into pieces,” he ordered.
The big prisoner smiled. He didn’t see me as a threat, even though I was holding a weapon.
I had to make this exhibit as spectacular as possible and show everyone how strong I was, or it would be open season on yours truly.
“I’m going to hurt you so bad.”
Warning me was his first mistake. If you’re going to attack someone, don’t tell them your plan.
His second? Charging me like a bull and not protecting his nuts.
I waited until he neared me, slid into a split at the last possible second, and swung the bat with all my strength.
The sound he made when I connected with his family jewels had all the men in the prison cupping themselves.
While he doubled over, I swung back to my feet in a defensive move and waited to make sure he wouldn’t attack me. But I shouldn’t have bothered. The man dropped like a stone a millisecond after.
FYI, this is why you never run headfirst at someone holding a weapon. In his rush to get to me, he tripled the effect of the swing. He was lucky I pulled back just long enough for him not to need an orchiopexy.
Moron.
I walked back toward the guard and handed him the weapon, pommel side up.
As he was about to take it from my hands, we heard the rumbling sound of a vehicle, and I froze when Jacob Hayes got off the truck accompanied by a big familiar form, with clear green eyes.
No.
Eric.
