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“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked, grabbing ahold of me with his insanely dark look in his eyes. Father and Phantom turned to me too, worry clung to their faces. “Fucking tell me, Rhett.”
“I-I think you were right.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat, glancing between the three of them. “I-I think this was planned.”
“Find Sharkey,” Father commanded, his attention now trained on Phantom. “Question him, and” —he let out a snarl and forcibly snatched Isaac by the back of his shirt when he made to storm behind Phantom— “I don’t fucking think so, Isaac. Where the fuck do you think you’re going!?”
I stepped between them as Isaac moved quickly, begging him to stand down because this was the last fucking thing any of us needed right now.
“I need you,” I said to him, grasping his face, forcing him to look at me. “Samara needs you. Phantom can handle Sharkey.”
“For Samurai,” Isaac whispered softly, his face beet red.
“Yes,” I nodded. “Nothing else matters but her.”
“You love her…” Father’s words were a breathy whisper as he gaped between us, stunned.
“Wealldo,” I told him, meeting his watery gaze. “We’d fucking die for her.”
“GO, SAMARA! YOU GOT THIS!”
Kinsley’s vicious rant had us damn near whipping our heads around in a full 360. She was at the end of the ring, pounding her fists atop the flooring, encouraging Samara, which was exactly what we should have been doing.
“You got this, baby!”
“RIP HER FUCKING HEAD OFF,” Isaac screeched.
Father didn’t speak. His throat frantically bobbed as he stared up at Samara and Prim circling each other, waiting for one or the other to strike first. Finally, it was Prim who made the first move. She charged like a fucking rhino with all intention to take Samara down.
A sturdy sidestep from Samara followed by a vicious jab to the throat was all it took to bring Prim to her knees, choking. The three of us gasped as Samara threw her right leg back and made lethal contact with Prim’s left knee. She went down, howling in pain, then threw her arms up to guard her face when Samara climbed on top, aiming her blows at Prim’s ribs.
“GUARD YOUR FACE,” our father pleaded in a feral scream, his face blistering red, sweat dotting his forehead as he tugged frantically at his hair.
“She’ll be fine, Dad,” I assured him. “She’s strong. She’s got this.”
I didn’t doubt for one second that Samara couldn’t handle her own against Prim. I’d only seen her fight once and that was at the clearing when she’d saved Sky from being kidnapped. She was phenomenal, a lethal combination of speed, size, and precision, but it was the state of her current injuries that gave Prim theadvantage here. That wasn’t the only thing bothering me. Prim knew what went down that night at Fishnets. She knew exactly what Damien did to Samara because I was the one who’d told her.
So why would Prim do this? Why kill an innocent girl just to pursue Samara? She was onourside, god damnit,notDamien’s. Surely, Primknewthat…did she not? None of this shit made a lick of fucking sense.
Samara swung her fist back again, just to cry out when Prim caught the strike with her left hand and bashed Samara’s wrapped ribs with her right, refusing to stop until Samara’s body buckled sideways, and she hit the floor, coughing and gasping for air.
“SAMURAI!” Isaac moved quickly towards the ring and slapped his palms down against the floor. “Get up. So help me GOD you better get up.”
Prim wasted no time hopping to her feet, her face so hard it could’ve been cut from marble. She bent down to wrap Samara’s hair around her left wrist and with zero effort, pulled her up on her knees. I watched in horror, my heart pounding and pulse roaring, as Prim curled her shaking fist, ready to land her famous right hook. What I didn’t expect, however, was for my beloved’s hands to fly up and latch around Prim’s breasts, inflicting the most brutal titty twister I’d ever seen in my life.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Kinsley applauded with a fist pump to the air.
“Tear her fucking nipples off,” Isaac viciously roared.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Relief washed over Father’s face when Prim broke free and staggered back several steps, her face twisted in agony as she desperately clutched her aching tits. I exhaled, my heart pounding harder than ever as Samara slowly, very slowly, got to her feet, her chest heaving.
“You wanna play games, bitch?” Prim snarled, reaching under the waistband of her shorts, withdrawing a blade. “Let’s play.”
“I don’t fucking think so,” Father’s insanely dark and deranged voice shook beside me. He and Isaac moved quickly, pinning me with matching death glares when I grabbed ahold of both their arms, stopping them.
“Look.”
Samara’s head tilted to the side, eyeing the blade, a dark smile carving up her mouth. Then she reached up her shirt and under her sports bra, fetching a blade of her own. I couldn’t help but grin proudly.
That’s my fucking girl.
