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Everyone was afraid of Paxton, even the Dominion lieutenant.
Jack swaggered to the ring first, as if he owned every inch of it, his vulture-like eyes dwelling on me. The look said he was debating where to land the first strike and break my bones.
“There’ll be no rules in the fight,” Paxton said. “It ends when someone yields.”
The demigod hadn’t said a thing about yielding when the other pairs went against each other. And Cameron always stepped in before the fight went overboard.
But now Paxton was warning the instructors to stand by and giving his pawn a license to kill me. There’d be no consequences if Jack beat me to death.
Cameron’s face remained stony, but a dark worry flitted through Marie’s eyes.
They knew Paxton was using the fight to set me as an example and to crush my spirit and break my will.
All eyes fixed on me. Every first-year had also realized that the Demigod of Sea had marked me.
Jack’s malicious, superior grin grew wider as he got the message, proud as a peacock that he’d become the demigod’s executioner.
I bet Paxton knew all about Jack’s capabilities. The Academy had everyone’s file.
Demetra sent Paxton another worshipping gaze and clasped her hands. “Take her down mercilessly, Jack. Give her the Hell she deserves. That harpy doesn’t belong in the Academy.”
While Jack was the demigod’s weapon, Demetra was his most vehement cheerleader. What a diabolical lot.
And why weren’t the instructors quoting school codes now that she was calling me names?
As soon as I stepped into the ring, my fear left and rage rose as I met the sinister promise in Jack’s eyes. He looked at me as if I wasn’t a person but his victim. He’d beat me within an inch of my life before killing me to please and impress the demigod.
“Hey you, douchebag,” I called, eyeing Jack like he was born from a rattlesnake.
He probably was, though he didn’t hiss half as loud or venomously as Paxton.
“You know you’re just a pathetic pawn in some asshole’s petty personal agenda to bring me down, right?” I asked. “And I have bad news for you. I won’t go down easily.”
I wanted them to know I was well aware of what they wanted to do to me and I wasn’t afraid. I’d dealt with plenty of killers in my hunter years back in Crack.
Paxton’s violet eyes turned dark purple, anger and the threat of punishment brewing in them.
The instructors and the students shifted their feet nervously. No one dared to openly challenge a demigod, and anyone calling one an asshole in public wouldn’t normally be allowed to breathe again.
I dared. He was going to kill me anyway, so I might as well get mouthy to get back at him, even though it was but a small, sad revenge.
I hated it that it was always assholes and mass murderers ruling the world. I hated it that it was always the little people and the innocent who suffered.
How I wished there was something I could do to fix that harsh reality, but the idea of changing the world was ridiculously impossible. I might not even survive this stupid brawl.
“Get on with it,” Paxton barked, his cold voice fuming.
I stretched my neck and flexed my shoulders to rile him up, defying him at every turn while I still could. Jack, though, didn’t wait. He launched at me like a remorseless bull with the determination to hurt and maim me.
I sidestepped at the last second, deploying my best asset—speed.
I ducked a heavy-weighted swing from my opponent and lashed out with my foot toward the back of the punk’s knee.
To my surprise, he didn’t even bother avoiding my kick. He threw his elbow toward my exposed throat just as my foot connected with his knee.
He didn’t go down, not as I’d expected. He took the blow easily without even bending his knee.
It dawned on me instantly.
