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Jett misses a dodge.
Hikaru nails a punch to his gut that sends Jett spinning into the cage. He rattles the metal mesh with his face.
“Why…” My heart seizes.
Jett shouldn’t be that slow.
That easy to hit.
“Shit,” Orion hisses as Jett takes a roundhouse kick that obliterates his knees. Jett eats mat.
“He’s not trying.” At all. He’s just…taking the hits.
Like he wants them.
Like he deserves them.
I can’t fucking watch.
“Lilah. You— Wait!” Orion tries to grab me, but I’m already thumping down the steps.
I beeline to the octagon.
A random alpha grabs for me, but before his fingers hit my shoulder, Finn’s twisting his arm. I slow, expecting him or the others to stop me.
Instead, Atlas and Hunter make me a path.
I fly into the ring.
Hikaru pulls back when he spots me, his chest heaving. I spare him a quick glare before dropping to my knees at Jett’s side.
“Tap out,” I order.
Holding my gaze, he taps the mat.
I fold my arms to keep myself from offering him a hand up. He’s sweating. There’s a fleck of blood on his lip because he bit himself when he braced against a punch. “Who gave you permission?”
His eyes glitter.
His lips part.
I think he’s going to say something world-endingly devastating. Something that rewrites my whole universe.
But as he climbs to his knees, Jett’s gaze slips past me.
He goes corpse rigid.
Not deer in headlights, but a stag after the crash. Mangled. Staring up at the sky.
The hairs on my arms rise, and the creepy sensation sends me slowly whirling.
Lurid teal sequins flash.
Then I spot the woman in the spangled dress, with dark hair and hellish eyes, and Jett’s heart isn’t the only one getting embalmed.
She’s older than I remember.
Faded. Black hair and olive skin.
