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Straight up ahead, I saw something I could only describe as a white blob. A massive area, all white. With little figures moving around. Flames flickering.
The shower I’d taken was forgotten. First the cold water to cool me down, then the hot water to loosen the tension. I was back to sweating and feeling gross. The air was too stuffy. I’d drawn my new sweats up past my calves, and the fabric was already damp, though at least not muddy.
No stomachache. That was something. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. I felt…somewhat alert.
I hissed when I suddenly stubbed my toe against a hard surface—a step. I was hauled up four or five steps that felt like marble. We’d arrived at the white blob.
Prepare yourself, baby boy. Be our fighter. Fuck with their heads. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your pain.
I gnashed my teeth.
Holy fuck!I choked on a ragged breath when something growled viciously to the left of me, and I snapped my head that way, eyes wide. What the fuck was that! I couldn’t see—I mean, I saw some movement, something sleek and dark moving from side to side. Welcome to the goddamn zoo? Was that like some panther or jaguar?
If they made me fight that fucking thing, I needed more than Neosporin in my first aid kit. I needed a surgeon and a liver transplant.
The compresses drew me back to the idea behind the actions. They’d given me those compresses for a reason. I hadn’t even used them. I’d cleaned the wound that wasn’t healing as fast as it should, but what the fuck was I supposed to do with tiny squares of cotton? I’d sweat them off in a second. But even so, they’d been there. They’d brought me all this way. To kill me off in a quick fight with a jungle cat? No.
I wasn’t dying tonight. If they forced me to fight, I would. And I would win.
I wasn’t dying. I’d fought all my fucking life. I’d spent my childhood in my dad’s training center and dojos. I’d competed in judo, kung fu, combat sambo, tae kwon do, and Krav Maga. Reese had added to my skills when I’d met him and River. He’d trained me in close combat. We sparred all the fucking time.
You got this, Shay. You know what you’re doing. And you know what to say when someone tells you to retreat.
“Retreat, hell,” I whispered under my breath.
One of his favorite wartime quotes. He was a damn trivia factory of military quotes and ballsy old generals.
People around me started cheering and hollering. Excitement sliced through the humidity in the air.
After a sharp turn, the bag was pulled from over my head, my hands were freed, and a door was slammed in my face. Not a door. I was in a cage. I turned around, surrounded by bars. Marble flooring—fucking everything outside the cage was marble. The white blob was no longer a blob. It was a goddamn amphitheater, only the platform in the center wasn’t lowered very deep into the ground. White marble, white marble, white marble. One…two… Two hundred people? Maybe?
I breathed shallowly.
This was a whole community. In the distance, I spied a grand mansion and several other houses. Smack-dab in the middle of the rainforest.
The western side of the stands widened at the top and became giant patios spreading across three levels, where people in suits mingled under ceilings lined with bistro lights.
Childrenran around.
Waitstaff carried serving trays.
What the fuckwasthis place?
I heard another growl, and I turned my head toward… Shit. Nice kitty. It was a black panther or jaguar—honestly, I didn’t know or care about the difference. It was huge. I was only glad the thing was kept in its own cage about ten feet from mine. Sweet Jesus.
We are not fighting, kitten. You’d rip me apart in five seconds.
A handful of men approached my cage, and I made sure to compose my expression. My options for retaliating with mindfucks were limited, but I could look like I didn’t have a care in the world.
Two more linen suits and three guys in shorts and tees.
One of them said something to me in Spanish as another guy lit up a smoke, and it made me remember my idea from earlier.
“Can I have a smoke?” I gestured at the guy. “Cigarette?”
The smoker cocked a brow.
The two men in suits observed me more thoughtfully, like I was some painting. One of them nodded at the smoker, giving silent permission.
