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Kallie tried to dodge his attack, but she tripped over her feet and the rake jammed into her gut forcing out a grunt. She clenched her fists from the surging pain, but there was no time to rest. She rolled onto her stomach and pressed her palms into the dirt, hoisting herself up and off the ground. She reached for the shovel beside her and spun toward Graeson.
He straightened. When he looked at her, his features shifted. It was slight, barely noticeable, but the way he watched her became more animalistic, predatory. "I got to hand it to you, little mouse, you don't give up. Do you?"
A piece of metal caught the faint light of the torch and her eyes flicked to it. Graeson had tossed the letter opener to the side and now held her dagger.
"I want my dagger back," Kallie bit out.
"Oh, this little thing?" He raised it and slid a finger over it, his rings clinking together. "I think I'll keep it. I've grown quite fond of it."
Kallie scowled.
"Come on, why bother?" Graeson stretched his arms over his head. "You're going to lose this fight."
Kallie despised overconfident men. "Oh, am I?" She sneered.
His laughter was deep, emotionless. Haunting as it ran through his body, as though the idea of her beating him was so ludicrous. It sent her into a fury, and she threw the rake. It missed Graeson, and he barked out another laugh. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came.
While Kallie may have missed him, he was not her target. She grinned cheekily as the empty barrels that had sat on the long wooden beam overhead came crashing down atop Graeson. He crouched as his arms flew to his head, shielding his body.
Kallie's gaze flashed to the dagger forgotten on the ground, and she tumbled forward, swiping it up. With her dagger back in her hands where it belonged, she prepared herself as Graeson threw the damaged barrels off of him. And before he could get up, Kallie was behind him with the blade pressing into his skin and a smirk plastered across her face. "I suppose I should thank Menz after all."
Then the air shifted and heat pressed against her back. Her smirk fell from her face as Kallie felt cold metal press against her throat.
"Don't make me do something I will regret later," Fynn said from behind her. The sound of the crashing barrels had masked his approach.
But she hadn't lost this fight yet.
Ignoring the sincerity in his voice, Kallie huffed. "You won't kill me." They needed her alive. She was useless to them dead.
"But I can knock you out," Fynn countered.
Despite the threat, Kallie's breathing was even. He would not be able to knock her out while he pressed the blade against her throat. She took a deep breath in, then Fynn removed the cold metal from her throat. Without thinking, Kallie swapped her arms and jammed the dagger into Fynn's side.
He hissed.
Kallie knew it wasn't a death blow, but it provided her enough space between him to—
The world flipped upside down and spun around her.
Her grip around Graeson had loosened without her realizing it, and Graeson had taken the opportunity to flip her over him. She landed on the ground with a loud thud and grimaced.
His instincts were inhumanly quick. In the past, her opponents had rarely ever caught her with her guard down or been given the chance to put her on her ass. She was angry, but not at Graeson. She was mad at herself for giving him the opportunity to take her down.
Footsteps pounded on the ground, stirring her from her thoughts. "You fool!"Graeson spat. "You should have seen that coming, Fynn."
The beams above her swirled, water seeped through the cracks of the roof. A droplet smacked her forehead. She inhaled sharply. She tried to collect her bearings as she waited for her head to stop spinning.
Somewhere nearby Graeson asked, "You all right?"
She couldn’t regain her breath to answer though.
Then Fynn responded saying he'd live, and Kallie realized Graeson hadn’t been talking to her. After all, why would he be asking about her well-being? He didn't care. She was their captive. The two people who cared about her were miles away.
Fabric ripped and hay crunched. At the same time, the black splotches in her vision faded. She leaned up onto her elbows, the small movement making her head throb while her vision spun in vibrant shades of purple and blue.
When it returned, she stared at a shirtless Graeson. The white fabric was torn and discarded on the floor beside him. Graeson was hunched over Fynn, who now lay on a pile of hay with a piece of the ripped cotton tied tightly around Fynn’s torso. A splotch of red seeped through the wrapping where Kallie had stabbed him.
For a moment, Kallie did not know where to look. The bleeding man or the chiseled chest sculpted by the gods beside him.
