“Is there a new maze tonight?” he asked his boss. He hoped so. His reflexes were quicker than the competition’s. If Cutter didn’t make it out of the maze, Kane wouldn’t have to kill him.
Guilt twisted his stomach. Had he really wished for Cutter to die?
“I need a bump,” Kane blurted before the boss had a chance to answer his question.
“You can have one at game time. And there’s no maze, just the final battle.”
Sweat beaded on Kane’s upper lip. “Please give me a hit now. All I need is—”
A rough slap to the face interrupted him. “Pull it together,” his boss warned. “This is the last chance for both of us. I swear if you blow this for me, I’ll make you dry out again before Zhang has you killed. Are we clear?”
Kane sobered at the memory of two weeks with no inhalers. “Yes, boss.”
They continued in silence until they reached the pit doors at the far end of the arena. Kane heard the crowd long before he saw their faces, a rumble of excitement that added to the anxiety building behind his ribs. As soon as he strode through the entrance, the stands erupted in deafening cheers, and he shielded his face with one hand.
The crowd blurred into a mass of waving arms as he glanced around the pit, which had completely changed since his last competition. The locker room was gone, as was the maze. The floor stretched open now, with the battle platform situated in the middle. The distance to the ring was the same, but the crowd seemed closer somehow. Too close. All that separated him from the bottom row of seats was the exterior maze wall, nine feet high and stretching around the perimeter of the pit.
From somewhere out of sight, the master of ceremonies called over the speakers, “I present to you our champions: Brock Cutter…and the Wolf!” At the mention of Kane’s nickname, the crowd lost their minds. He’d never hated them more than during that moment, as they howled for his opponent’s blood. “Our champions are strong and rested up, and ready to battle to the death in your honor!”
Honor. What a joke. There was no honor here.
“Okay, you two,” the boss shouted when they’d reached the platform steps. “I want you to give these people a show they’ll never forget, so take these.” He handed each of them a golden inhaler. “They’re all yours.”
“The whole thing?” Cutter asked.
“As many bumps as you want.”
Even as Kane’s fingers tightened protectively around his inhaler, he wished his boss hadn’t given it to him. He didn’t know if he had the will to stop after one breath, and he didn’t want to end up drying out in the med-center again. “But what if we take too much? Won’t we build up a tolerance?”
The boss licked his lips and took a sudden interest in his shoes. “Don’t worry about that, kid. Just do what feels right, okay?”
Then he jogged away without a backward glance.
Kane shared a worried look with Cutter. He knew they’d both reached the same conclusion. If the boss didn’t care about immunity, it meant the winner of tonight’s fight wouldn’t survive long enough to compete again. Ari Zhang wasn’t a forgiving man. He only needed one of them to break the tie. Otherwise, they were expendable.
Kane scanned the arena for Zhang’s private box, hoping to read the man’s intentions. He found the box in the same spot as before, situated in the middlemost aisle, about halfway to the top of the stands. But before his eyes made it to Zhang, they stopped on a familiar woman with a heart-shaped face and a riot of red curls spilling from a bun atop her head.
Kane did a double take. Was that Arabelle?
He almost didn’t recognize her with a patch covering her left eye, but there was no mistaking the motherly curve of her face, or the intensity in her right eye, which was fixed on him and trying to convey a message he couldn’t understand. He peered through the stands for the crew but didn’t find them. Maybe the mafia had captured Arabelle. Glancing on either side of her, he noticed she sat in between her former owner, Necktie Fleece, and that bastard Nicky Malone, who wouldn’t stop leering at her.
Kane felt sick.
He couldn’t stand the idea of Belle as a lady in white—it hit too close to home. She was part of the Banshee crew, and that made her family. It might as well be his own mother sitting up there. As he watched her, he saw Nicky Malone trace an index finger along the length of her forearm, and his vision tunneled.
“Cutter?” he heard himself say.
“Yeah?”
Kane tore his gaze away from the private box and faced his opponent—who was a man, not a bag. Lifting his inhaler, he asked, “How powerful will a breath of this make you?”
“Not very,” Cutter admitted.
“How about two breaths?”
“A little stronger than usual.”
Kane nodded toward the middlemost aisle. “Strong enough to boost me over that wall?”
Cutter shifted a glance in that direction. Kane could practically see the wheels turning inside the man’s head, weighing the act of helping him against the risk of what Ari Zhang would do to them when it was done.
“Yeah,” Cutter said, grinning as he turned up his injured palm. “I’ll probably lose these fingers again, but like I told you, I didn’t get attached.”
The master of ceremonies called out over the speakers, telling them to take their places on the battle platform, but Kane ignored him. He offered his hand and Cutter shook it.
“Godspeed, kid.”
“Same to you.”
Cutter jerked his chin toward the stands. “When you’re up there, toss a few of those perverts my way. I’m not showing up alone in hell tonight.”
Kane clinked his inhaler against Cutter’s in a toast. “Here’s to going out with a bang.”
“I’ll breathe to that.”
They brought the mouthpieces to their lips. Kane pumped his tube twice and sucked in a deep breath, holding it while the layers of the mortal world peeled back and revealed a heaven of his own making. He was a god once more, his cells bursting with all the power of the cosmos, and tonight he would bring down his vengeance.
If the crowd wanted blood, they would have it.
Once his vision returned, he signaled to Cutter, who ran ahead to the wall and then bent low, lacing his fingers together in a stirrup. Kane sprinted toward the man and stepped onto his linked hands. In flawless unison, Kane jumped and Cutter heaved, launching his body to the top of the wall, where he grabbed on and climbed over the top into the stands.
Shouts broke out as the spectators in his path tried to run, but there was nowhere for them to go. As he scaled the rows with supernatural speed, he grabbed an occasional collar and gave its owner a headfirst journey into the pit. His eyes locked on his targets in the luxury box, and he growled in delight. His boss had told him Do what feels right, and nothing in his life had ever felt more natural than this.
For the first time, he saw fear on Ari Zhang’s face, and it made his teeth ache to sink into the man’s throat. Vaguely, he noticed Belle speaking into a button affixed to her shirt, but he paid her no mind. At least not until she pulled a thick metal hairpin from her bun and jabbed it into the base of Necktie Fleece’s skull, dropping him instantly.
Kane stumbled in surprise, torn between admiration for the kill and anger that she’d stolen it from him. From behind he heard pistol fire, and then more screams from the spectators as they ducked to avoid being hit. He’d just reached the luxury box and hoisted himself inside when a laser pulse connected with his arm. He grinned. The pain didn’t even register. He snagged Nicky Malone by the shirtsleeve and jerked him forward.
Kane paused to savor the fear in the man’s eyes before grabbing him by the seat of his pants and throwing him like a rag doll into the pit. Then he stepped over the fallen body of Necktie Fleece and crept toward Zhang, who’d reached the far wall of the box and could go no farther. He was nearly within reach when, abruptly, every light inside the arena flickered and died.
Blackness surrounded him.
“Kane,” called a voice, and then gentle fingers probed his shoulder. He snatched the fingers and squeezed them, causing the voice to cry out in pain. “It’s me, Belle.”
He wanted to let go, but his hand didn’t seem willing to obey. The need for violence pumped through his veins, urging him to crush her bones. It took a long moment before he was able to relax his grip enough for her to slip free.
“That’s the signal,” she told him, barely audible over the shouts of the crowd. “Renny blew the shield and took out the electrical grid. We have to find the exit and meet him outside. It’s about to get ugly in here.”
“I can’t see.”
Cautiously, she touched his elbow. “That’s why I’m here. I lost an eye, but I gained an upgrade. Grab on to my shirt and follow me.”
He allowed her to lead him blindly down the aisle, but then he remembered Cutter in the pit. “My friend’s down there. I can’t leave him.”
“Don’t worry. The pirates know not to touch anyone in white.”
Pirates?
Kane glanced around, seeing nothing at first, until the guests seated near the exits opened the doors. Moonlight streamed inside as they shoved each other in a rush to escape. The dim lighting showed Cutter alive in the pit, surrounded by limp bodies. Kane waved at the man to get his attention, but it was no use. The arena was in chaos.
Frustrated, Kane returned his gaze to the exit. Energy coursed through him. He needed to move, needed to fight. He picked up Arabelle and swung her behind him, then growled as he plowed into the crowd of men ahead, throwing his fists and elbows and loving the contact of flesh against his knuckles. When the guests noticed who was behind them, they flung themselves out of his path, and he walked out the doors into the night.
He strode forward a few paces and froze.
If he’d thought the arena was in chaos, that was nothing compared with the havoc unfolding outside. Flames engulfed the long chain of suites hugging the coastline, forcing their guests into the open, where plainclothes men attacked them with stun grenades or bludgeoned them with clubs and pistol butts. Redshirts fired on the pirates, but it was no use. More of them kept coming as dozens of mismatched shuttles descended from the sky. In the center of the landing zone stood a tall, red-haired pirate with kohl-lined eyes, shouting orders to his men. Kane squinted and realized it was Doran, dressed like Daro the Red. Solara stood by his side, her face streaked with war paint and a rifle slung over her shoulder.
Arabelle tugged at Kane’s sleeve. “Listen, I know the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and all that, but I don’t like pirates. It’s best if we round everyone up and go.”
“Go?” he echoed, and then it struck him that the crew had come to take him away. That meant no more Gold. He would have to dry out again—for good this time. He shook her off and backed away. “No. I’m staying.”
Arabelle gaped at him through mismatched eyes, one blue, the other a prosthetic that glowed amber in the night. Then she tapped her com-link and muttered, “I need backup.”
Renny’s voice came from directly behind them. “I’ll take it from here.”
Before Kane could turn around, Renny grabbed him and pinned both his arms to his sides. Kane thrashed against the iron hold as his captain dragged him backward. He didn’t want to hurt Renny, but panic took over his body. In a burst of strength, Kane curled forward and sent Renny somersaulting into the air. Before the captain landed on the ground, Kane turned and bolted toward the ocean like his ass was on fire.
His boots slid when they met the loose sand along the dunes, but he kept going, desperate to reach the water. He wasn’t sure what he planned do there, maybe swim past the breakers and keep going until he reached the undeveloped side of the island. He could hide in the rough thicket of trees and underbrush until the crew left. He ran faster once he reached the packed, wet sand near the shoreline. The water was almost within diving distance when something tangled around his ankles and sent him pitching forward, and he landed hard on his stomach.
Coughing out a mouthful of sand, he rolled onto his back and found a hobbling cable wrapped around his boots. He sat up and jerked on the metallic ropes, but they wouldn’t budge. Glancing at the waves, he wondered how far he could swim with his feet bound.
“Don’t try it,” a voice said. “I’ll fish you out and drag you back.”
He turned and saw Cassia’s tiny silhouette in the moonlight. Even if she hadn’t spoken, he would have known it was her. The gentle curves of her body and the firm, unrelenting set of her shoulders were as familiar to him as his own flesh. But the warmth her presence gave him was no match for his longing to escape. He inched toward the waves. In a flash, she was there, hauling him back by his ankle restraints.
“Stop!” he yelled, and thrust a palm forward. He wished she would go away. He didn’t want her to see him like this. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Keep waving that hand in my face and we’ll see who gets hurt.”
“I mean it. This drug makes me strong. I can’t control what I do to people.”
“I know.” She dropped to her knees beside him. “That’s why you have to come with us, so we can help you.” When he shook his head, she added, “Gage found a cure. It’s an injection that changes your brain chemistry. I’ve seen it work. In a couple of weeks, you’ll feel like yourself.”
“You don’t understand.” Fresh panic had him scooting away from her. He inched across the sand like a pathetic worm, hating what he’d become but unable to stop. “Two weeks was all it took last time. I can’t go through that again.”
“It won’t be like that. I promise.”
“How would you know?” he shouted. “You weren’t here!”
She flinched back as pain flashed in her eyes, the kind born from guilt. He recognized it from all the times he’d looked in the mirror after the Daeva had taken her.
“I know I wasn’t,” she said. “But I never stopped fighting for you, and neither did the crew. They’ve been here for weeks, listening to the transmissions and waiting for the right time to attack.” She thumbed toward the dunes. “These people can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can stay. Doran made a deal with the pirates. If they don’t hurt any of the workers, they get free rein over the planet when we’re gone. After that, they’ll ransom the guests. There’s nothing for you here.”
She was wrong. There was something for him here: the planet’s entire supply of Gold. He even knew where to find it. If he was careful and stayed hidden, the pirates might never know he’d stayed behind.
As if reading his thoughts, Cassia glared at him and sharpened her voice. “Don’t even think about it, you scum-eating son of a crotch smuggler! You’re my best friend, and I’m not leaving without you.”
“Just let me go,” he pleaded with her. “You don’t understand.”
“Let me tell you what I understand.” She fisted the front of his bodysuit, shaking it as her gaze shone with tears. “I want your next twenty years, and all the years after that. I gave Eturia to the people. I’m ready to go all in, but it doesn’t mean anything unless you go all in, too. You have to choose me over the drug.” She shook him again. “Do you hear me? I can’t promise the treatment will be quick or easy, but I swear I’ll be with you the whole time.” A tear slid free, and she reached for his face. “I love you, Kane. Choose me.”
His heart warred with his nerve endings, which were already screaming in protest against the withdrawal. He swallowed hard and gazed into her face. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long, but now he didn’t know if he had the strength to tell her yes. As her hand drew nearer to his cheek, his resolve softened, but then he noticed something in his periphery—a black button concealed within her palm.
Except it wasn’t a button. It was a handheld stunner.
Quick as a viper strike, he grabbed her wrist and rotated it for a better view. He realized with a stab of betrayal it was probably the same device Solara had used on him all those months ago in the undergro
und compound.
“You tricked me.”
Cassia didn’t deny it. As she knelt there with her wrist trembling in his hand, he sensed the fragility of the tiny bones beneath her skin. The Gold urged him to squeeze; that was all it would take to snap her arm like a pretzel stick. But she returned him to his senses with nothing more than a look—the same sad, misty gaze that never failed to grip his heart and turn it inside out. With tears trailing down her face, she whispered, “Please, Kane. Choose me.”
Before he had a chance to change his mind, he pulled her palm slowly toward his face until the stunner met his cheek. Neuro-inhibitors flooded his system, forcing his eyelids shut. As the world slid out from beneath him, he fought through the barrier of his own lips and the weight of his paralyzed tongue to mumble two final words to Cassia, his best friend and the girl he’d chosen, consequence be damned.
“All in.”
“This way for quadrants one and two,” Cassia shouted, pointing at the Origin’s boarding ramp. She thumbed at a second vessel called the Zephyr. “Quadrants three and four, you’re over here.” With a wink at Belle, she added, “If you don’t know which quad your settlement is in, ask the redhead with the sexy bionic eye. She’ll point you in the right direction.”
While Belle curtsied, Renny lifted a hand. “Remember, nothing leaves this planet except for you—not a single grain of sand. We will check your pockets when you board, so if you’re carrying contraband, get rid of it now.”
Activity stirred within the camp as several men and women tossed aside nutrient packets, shells, coins, and bits of broken jewelry the pirates had missed. Those weren’t the items Cassia cared about. Aside from inhalers, she mostly wanted to keep weapons off the ships. The workers had received their injections, but they were still in the “edgy” phase of their recovery, and squabbles were bound to happen during the long journey home.
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