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I start retreating backwards, making my way back to the center of the arena to wait for him. I hope he doesn’t run. The chase would be fun, but I am already running late and my mate waits for me.
It takes some time before another gate to the arena opens and Shamus comes out without armor. He is still wearing the King’s garb as he walks to me.
His face is stone as he marches to me and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Does he wonder how I will do it? Is he excited by the prospect of meeting his lover on the other side?
“You finally got what you wanted. I’m surprised you came back at all. Or is she not what you wanted. Wouldn’t be the first time. Poor girl.” He starts, he’s goading me. When I don’t respond he says, “How is the ratchet whore anyway?”
I decide to not react outwardly even though I am burning even hotter with rage. He wants this over quickly, but it won’t be so easy.
“How does it feel that you could never measure up to anything?” I say calmly.
His brow ticks with brief anger before he hides it. “I stand here as a King. What do you have?”
“I have peace.”
He rolls his eyes and looks away, giving me his cheek. “Get it over with.”
“You aren’t going to defend yourself?”
“And give you the attention you so desperately crave? No.” He mutters flatly.
“You should take off the cape, it will get in the way of all the blood and the broken bones.” I say.
After a moment of silence he says, “You know, I thought she was who I hated most. But I was wrong.”
I remain quiet.
“It was him.Them. All of it,” he says in a reflective tone.
Is he buying time? I don’t know why he is confessing that to me but I let him.
“You were never the victim. You made your choices. You chased Aria away. You abused her. You betrayed your mate.”
He chuckles darkly and sorrowfully at the mention of Shepherd. I see a flash of sadness and regret pass before he clears his throat.
Standing straighter, he says, “Let’s get this over with.”
He widens his stance ready to fight. It isn’t a fight that takes long. We barely spar. He does his best trying to slip and cut me in various places. But he is no match. After I rid him of the sword we come to blows and I rearrange his face. He falls quickly.
However, he won’t get to just die. This won’t end too quickly.
I send him flying with another blow to his stomach and he lies like he is dead. I follow after him and pull him to the very center of the arena. Thereafter my punches are vicious but they are not meant to crack a skull.
He stands again even though his face has blood running down like a heavy rain and am pleased that he isn’t falling quickly.
Using a sword, I place small cuts that aren’t fatal individually but are meant to make his body feel even more pain as his pain receptors shoot everywhere at once.
His body finally drops and he falls on his back. His body doesn’t move but he is still alive.
Toothless. Bruised. Broken.
His mouth open, face now unrecognisable, and I bend down and stare down at him for the last time. “You wasted your life for naught.”
When he tries to speak, he chokes on his blood. And before he can die on his own, I rise to my full length and bring down my foot on his skull and his brain spatters under my foot.
I rip out his heart from him too before I stand finally and face the crowd.
