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When I left, I kept up with my training, even taking time to visit other circuses—much to my girls’ amusement—whenever one was in town.
A whip isn’t a knife or a sword, but used right, it can be a formidable weapon. The best thing is, I don’t have to get close to my enemy to use it.
Vega goes for spiked brass knuckles that make me nervous, but I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. Besides, if there is anything he knows how to do, it’s punch.
Blink picks up a sword, but it’s different than the one Vlad has. It’s thinner and shorter but wicked sharp and light, making it easy to maneuver.
Graves takes longer to decide before opting for a sica sword, its curved blade looking more sinister in the moonlight than its counterparts.
“It has been decided,” Titus shouts as the weapons cart is hurriedly wheeled out of the arena.
I take a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath, shutting out the sound of the crowd. I focus on the thumping of my heart, the air filling my lungs, and the light breeze blowing in my hair.
This is it. Months of preparing for this single moment. I’ve struggled with how this might play out, in particular taking the lives of the opposing team. Not because I haven’t taken lives before. I have, hundreds of them. But they were all bad people that needed their stains wiped clean from the earth. These people, though, Deity and her men, are not evil. They are just playing a stupid, deadly game.
I replay Sugar’s words to myself, knowing she’s right. These people might not be bad, but they came here with the intention to kill us. To kill my men. That is not something I’ll ever allow. If I can knock them out cold, I will. But if the only option available to me is death, it will be their blood spilled on the sand, not ours.
We all move back, weighing up our opponents. I focus on the other team, cataloging their strengths and weaknesses. I try to come up with a plan that will result in us all walking away from here, but the gleam in their eyes tells me it’s impossible. They are as worked up into a bloodlust frenzy as the crowd.
We hold our positions and watch as Deity’s team starts to fidget before giving in and approaching. Once they get closer, Butcher and Kite charge. They’re not coming for me, so I keep my eyes forward and send up a silent prayer that the men I love will be safe.
Vlad smirks at me before stepping closer, swinging his sword in an arc. The movement is clunky given its weight, and I’m more worried he’ll drop it on his foot than run me through with it.
I’m so focused on Vlad, I almost miss Crank racing toward me using Vlad as cover.
Crank is a big guy. They all are, but his movements are slow and uncoordinated. It’s as if he’s unfamiliar with his own body, leading me to believe he bulked up for this fight. I can see why he might think that would be smart, but it’s better to work with what you are intimately familiar with than try something new later in the game when the stakes are so high.
I block out the sound of metal against metal and the painful grunts behind me. I strike out with my whip and split Crank’s cheek open, making him stumble. Before he can right himself, I crack the whip again, this time wrapping it around him and pulling him off balance. I let the whip slacken as he falls so that he doesn’t take me down with him. I run toward his prone body as he fights to pry his arms free that are pinned to his sides.
I have no time for finesse. A quick hard kick to the head knocks him out, which is enough for now.
I yank my whip hard, making Crank roll over and land on his mace, making me wince.
Oops.
I don’t dwell on it when I hear a war cry from behind me. I turn and duck on instinct, which is just as well since a now pissed-off Vlad just tried to cut my head off.
“Motherfucker.” I stand and move to the left as he rights himself and spins around to face me, his prior smirk long gone.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarls, swinging the sword high as I spin out of his reach, only to yelp when pain explodes across my thigh.
I look down and see one of Deity’s daggers embedded in my leg. I underestimated her throwing ability. Lesson learned.
I look up and see her grinning maniacally at me just as her dumbass husband lunges for me again. This time I drop to the ground and roll away, barely missing the end of his sword as it lands an inch from my head.
I bite back a scream as the maneuver drives the dagger deeper into my leg, but I climb to my feet, albeit unsteadily. I leave the blade where it is, knowing it will keep me from bleeding too heavily.
“Aw, so intimidated by one little itty-bitty girl it takes two of you to bring me down. I didn’t realize I was fighting against such weak-ass pussies,” I taunt as a body falls to the ground beside me.
I can’t help but take a quick look and a deep, relieved breath when I realize it’s Butcher. Graves steps up beside me, his face smeared with blood, the sica in one hand, Butcher’s mace in the other.
“Hey, baby. Need a hand?” His words are jovial, his tone anything but.
“Hey, Glitch. Having fun?” I tease, hoping to rile Deity and Vlad, who have moved closer to each other. Vlad’s eyes are on Butcher, likely trying to see if his friend is alive, but Glitch steps in front of him, blocking their view.
“You’re dead,” Vlad snarls, aiming his weapon at Glitch. A screech of feedback has us all wincing as the large monitor behind Titus and the various others dotted around the arena come to life.
“Yes, just like that. Now add another finger.”
