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“I drew first blood,” she cackles.
I’m stunned as she swipes a finger below my nose. She holds it up as if to show the audience the proof, and then she fucking licks it clean.
My limbs feel too heavy to move, and I’ve dropped the fucking knife. I don’t know when or where, only that it’s a monumental task to even stay on my feet. My head feels heavy, my movements sluggish, and…
“Down you go,” Irina gleefully announces as she kicks me down again.
My fingers dig into the dirt, and I don’t waste any time in throwing some into her face. When she staggers back and blinks rapidly, I use some of my last strength to get back up.
This time I go on the offensive. I rush her, flailing my arms and raining down blows on her until she screams. But it’s not in pain, it’s like a fucking war cry of epic proportions.
“Yes! That’s it, Zoe. Fight for your fucking life.”
I don’t need her words when that’s exactly what I’m doing. But unlike her, I don’t have the strength or breath to talk while fighting.
As I continue coming at her, Irina backs up. I’m so blinded by my hate for this woman that all I see is her face in a haze of red.
“I hate you!” I scream.
Punch.
Punch.
“I fucking hate you.”
Irina successfully uses her arms to parry most of my punches, but it still feels good to let my anger out.
She takes another step back, and I blindly follow.
Then another.
And… as I kick out at her, she moves to the side. I don’t have time to right myself as the edge comes into view.
There’s no stopping my momentum as I fall, rolling down the hill. I immediately wrap my arms protectively around my head, but I still feel the impact of the branches and stones.
Grayson
Seething anger vibrates through my veins at what I’m seeing. I can’t believe my fucking eyes, and I can tell as I glance at my club brothers spread out around the fucking weird arena the Reapers have set up, that they too have seen the ghost.
Gunner.
He’s not fucking dead.
He’s alive and fucking well, and apparently the new VP of the Reapers.
Now, everything fucking makes sense.
His behavior leading up to his fucking fake death. The growing anger he had with not just me but Rocco. And fuck, his obsession over my princess, who he declared as his Old Lady.
Like fuck!
Perhaps the only thing keeping my feet in place from going off the rails right now is seeing Zoe for the first fucking time in nearly three fucking months.
Her face has been painted to suit the theme of the night, so I can’t get a good read on her health, but fuck, she is skinnier than the last time I saw her. There’s barely any meat on her bones, and as she tries to fight Rusty Hunt’s lunatic sister, I can see how weakened she is.
Have they even been feeding her?
My top lip curls and my fists ball as my chest heaves with boiling anger. My monster is here. He wants to be unleashed, and fuck I want to set him free, but even he knows now isn’t the right time.
