“Are you going to be okay?” Josh leaned down and whispered in my ear.
I gave a slight nod, then remembered my assumed role. “Yes, Sir, just a little queasy.” My heart thundered, banging away inside my chest like a kettle drum.
With the first punches out of the way, the boys squared off against each other. The girl’s brother danced around his opponent, keeping his footfalls light as he dodged. But he kept looking over at his sister.
That distraction cost him.
The other boy jabbed, landing a punch in the gut. He followed it up with a cut to the solar plexus, then a slam to the temple. The girl’s brother stumbled, gave a shake of his head, then fell to the mat. His opponent took the opportunity to attack, raining down fists and kicking him in the ribs.
The brother curled into a fetal ball, guarding his vulnerable areas. But the other kid kicked him in the stomach. The powerful thrust lifted the boy off the floor and tossed him to the side. He gasped for breath as his sister cried out.
Carson tossed the girl to the side and barked out an order to one of the guards flanking us. His personal guards, the two men intimidated me with their size.
“Get her out of here.” He kicked the girl as she scrabbled away.
One of the men hoisted her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She cried out and lifted her arms toward her brother, saying something I didn’t understand.
The guard left the room with the girl, then returned moments later without her. Instead of taking up his position from before, he moved around to stand beside me. His fierce expression focused forward as I shifted closer to Josh.
Punches rained down on her brother, then the other boy turned into something feral. He grabbed the brother from behind and wrapped an arm around his neck. He used his strength to hold the arm bar while the boy’s face turned red.
I wanted to scream, He’s killing him! But that was the point of this dreadful event. The kid squeezed and the brother’s face turned purple as he flailed and scratched. In a few more seconds, he would pass out.
No.
He wouldn’t pass out.
He would be strangled by a boy given no other choice than to kill.
Tension built in Josh’s body. I felt it in the tightening of his leg muscles. In the stillness of his breath, and in the deadly quiet girding his frame.
“I wonder what his father would think, knowing you watched his son die.”
“Excuse me?” Josh put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me to the side.
The man beside me took a step closer.
“Please,” Carson said with a sneer. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“I think you’re a lot of things.”
“Really? But tell me, are you willing to let Wu’s son die?”
“You’re a monster.”
“Says the man who killed two women.”
The muscles in Josh’s jaw bunched. “Kate deserved to die.”
“I’ll give you that.”
The brother weakened in the stranglehold.
“Let the boy go.”
“So, you admit you’re working for Wu?”
“Wu wants me dead.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
“I don’t care what you think you heard. I’ve had enough of this.”
Carson waved to the crowd. “They’re here to watch a fight to the death. I’m not going to disappoint them.”
Josh pulled out a gun and pointed it at Carson’s chest.
“Let him go.”
The guard beside me leapt forward. He scooped me off my feet and put a knife to my throat.
My entire body stilled as the hard edge of the blade cut into my skin. A warm trickle of blood ran along my collar bone and dripped between my breasts. A surface cut, it was meant to make a point.
“Now, isn’t this interesting.” Carson gave a low chuckle. “Me or the girl? I wonder who you’ll pick?”
“She’s just a slave.”
“Let’s have some fun. You get to decide who lives and dies tonight.”
“Maybe you’re not understanding me.” Josh’s finger went for the trigger. “You’re not making it out of here alive. That’s a promise.”
Carson gave a slow shake of his head. “You’re not going to kill me.”
“You don’t know me very well. I keep my promises.”
Carson jerked his chin in the direction of the brother fighting for his life. “How about this? You take that boy’s place in the ring. I let him and the girl live.”
“I’m not fighting a child, asshole.”
“Oh, I don’t intend for you to fight the boy. Two lives require a bit more sport than that.” He gestured to his guards. “You’ll fight them…to the death.”
Josh looked at me and, despite the knife at my throat, I gave a hard swallow. I didn’t see the monster inside of him. I saw a raging beast.
He didn’t hesitate and lowered the gun.
“Deal.”
Carson looked surprised, but then murder gleamed in his eyes. He raised his hands and gave a loud clap. “Stop the fight!”
The other guard disarmed Josh, then pushed him toward the ring. The one holding me pushed me toward Carson. He shoved me into Carson’s waiting arms then handed over the knife.
Shocked by the turn in events, my body moved on autopilot.
Please don’t die.
I didn’t know if Josh heard me, but he glanced back as he willingly climbed into the ring. He had no words for me, but then he couldn’t let Carson know the truth between us.
“You’re a dead man, Zane Carson. Dead.” Josh rolled up his sleeves.
Carson twisted my arm behind my back. With the knife pressed against my neck, he whispered vileness into my ear. “I’m going to do unspeakable things to you, my darling slave.”
The boys were separated and the brother coughed in a breath. Strength returned to him slowly, and he gave Josh a wary look as the two of them exchanged positions.
Josh rolled his shoulders back and flexed his muscles. His fingers curled and a snarl lifted his upper lip. The two guards strutted toward the ring, followed by cheering from the crowd and a flurry of new betting.
Careful not to let Carson see, I mouthed I love you to Josh.
His lips moved. I love you more.
Chapter 50
My teeth slammed together with enough force to rattle my brain. Pain exploded behind my eyes and fire erupted over my jaw. My face caught the worst of the assault. The skin over my cheek split and blood dripped down to my chin.
A coppery tang coated my tongue, blood from where I’d bit through the inside of my cheek. A cut across my forehead bled and the blood mingled with my sweat.
Rivulets of agony poured down my face.
Carson was going to die for this, but first I needed to get through his guards and the crowd of vile and filth, the worst humanity had to offer who cheered for blood, sweat, and death.
A chop to my solar plexus made the act of breathing impossible, but these men had no idea what I was. They hadn’t survived what I had endured, or trained to beat it.
I spit blood onto the mat and blinked to clear my vision. Not that I needed to see. All my senses were on high alert. I tracked my opponents by sound more than sight. I had to. With the two of them, they found all my blind spots, working them to their advantage.
They didn’t know how foolish that was, or what it would cost them. I would take their pummeling, saving my strength for when it mattered most. This was just a warmup, the three of us dancing around the ring like tweens at our first awkward dance.
A slight creak sounded behind me. The mat shifted as the bastard behind launched a roundhouse kick to the back of my knee. A blind grab put his leg in my hands. Using his momentum, I yanked him forward and off his feet. His foot, ankle and shin twisted. His knee and the rest of his body did not.
A loud pop preceded his agonized scream as the ligaments of his knee shredded. He went down and stayed there.
Now, there was only one man standing between me and Zane Carson.
One man and one woman.
Carson held my sweet Clara in front of him. He had an arm wrapped around her, trapping her arms to her side, and pressed a knife to her goddamn throat. I was going to kill the bastard.
She had looked at me with fear twisting her delicate features as Carson ordered my death in the most diabolical way possible. A fight to the death in the same ring as Wu’s son, a boy turned into a man too soon, forced to kill or die. They had carried him away, back to the pens where he would recover until his next match. Or so I assumed.
But if I survived this shit, there would be no next match, and we would all be walking out of here.
Clara should not have been here. My weakness placed her in danger. And now, if I didn’t survive, she would enter a living hell as one of Carson’s many pleasure slaves. There was no illusion on my part as to what he would force her to endure.
You’re a dead man walking!
My distraction cost me. The other guard advanced, fists flying, as I blinked to clear my vision. He got in some good hits, pounding on me like he was tenderizing raw meat. The flurry of his fists kept me battling for breath and I staggered under a particularly devastating series of blows. Fortunately, he shuffled back to catch his breath and I sucked in air.
The noise from the crowd returned, hungry cries for blood and death filled the air from outside the makeshift ring. There weren’t that many, but more than I could take on alone. They cheered for my death from all angles, but they would be disappointed.
I was a tough bastard to kill.
The wounded man on the mat clutched at his knee while Carson screamed at him to get up. The throbbing in my ears siphoned out the crowd’s chants and allowed me to focus on the solid beating of my heart.
Whomp—whomp—whomp.
My heart forced blood through my body, delivering oxygen to my starved muscles. My entire body pulsed to the rhythm, centering my mind and keeping me on my toes.
But it wasn’t enough.
My head snapped back with another upper cut to my jaw.
Blood gushed from my nose and poured down my throat, choking me, and coating my senses with the coppery flavor of defeat. The man on the mat swung out, trying to trip me, but I danced over his arm and kicked him in the head.
His head bounced against the mat and then his entire body stilled. I didn’t know if I’d killed him or knocked him out cold, but now was not the time to figure that shit out.
With a shake of my head, I forced myself to get back in the game.
Focus!
Carson had Clara.
I had to get to her. I would die trying.
Falling back on instinct, knees bent, weight centered on the balls of my feet, I found my balance and waited for a surge of adrenaline to spike through me. My opponent got in a few knocks to my ribs. I tensed and absorbed the blows as he launched forward with a fist aimed at my solar plexus.
Instead of letting his fist connect with my chest, my arm snapped forward and my fingers wrapped around his wrist. With a yank, I pulled him toward me, spinning at the last minute to avoid full frontal contact.
Once again, I used momentum to my advantage.
The man stumbled in a drunken dance and went down, face first. He flopped over and tried to stand.
Blood drenched my knuckles, proof I’d scored a few direct hits, but it wasn’t enough.
I dropped to my knees, straddling my opponent, and pulverized his body. I chopped at his muscular frame, hammering my fists into his stomach as I aimed to split his spleen.
Fuck. I needed to end this.
I needed a killing blow.
Each swing of my fists seemed to come slower than the last. My body was tiring, but I wasn’t ready to give up.
With my heart hammering, I blinked through a mess of blood and sweat, I remembered a similar situation, the night I saved Clara.
I located my target and slammed the base of my palm against his windpipe. His head snapped back as the cartilage gave way with a sickening crunch.
A shot rang in my ears and pain exploded in my arm.
The sharp burst of sensation spiked through my brain and bowled me over with a howl of pain and frustration. I’d been shot from the asshole with the busted-up knee. Where the fuck did he get a gun?
The noise from the crowd shifted. Instead of shouts, low grumbles filled the room. These men paid for death matches played out with nothing but bare fists. The grumbling turned ominous as their displeasure raced through the room.
Perhaps I should be thankful they didn’t approve of bringing a gun into this fight. I could use that to my advantage.
I spit new blood onto the mat.
Never taking my eyes off my opponent, I clutched at my wounded arm and waited for him to breathe. His vacant eyes stared at the ceiling and I removed him from the list of imminent threats. Then I turned to the wounded man.
He shifted to his butt. His ruined knee twisted at an unnatural angle. And his hands shook as he held the gun.
“Do it!” Carson shouted from the stands. “Kill him!”
The grumbling from the crowd grew as men exchanged angry shouts. Everyone in this wretched space had something to lose. If they were smart, they were debating their next move. As long as they got their show, no one gave a fuck who died.
Win or lose, I would live or die. I rushed my opponent as he pulled the trigger. A shot rang out and Clara screamed. Pain bit at my injured arm, but I was beyond caring.
A hasty lunge and I missed. Bad timing on my part as he rolled out of the way. But my fist found his ribs. One of them gave beneath my knuckles and knocked the wind from his lungs.
I kicked the gun out of his hands and rained a storm of fury down on him, pelting him with my fists despite the pain in my injured arm.
Crack—crack—crack!
His chest caved in as I hammered into him, cutting off his oxygen and starving his brain with the hopes he’d black out. I didn’t want to kill him, but I would.
However, my strength was fading fast. Battered and breathless with an injury to my arm, I wasn’t going to last much longer. My enemy weakened, but would it be fast enough?
He blocked me. I wore him down, measuring out the remnants of my strength as I desperately wished for him to simply give up. Finally, his arms dropped beneath my strikes, opening him to attack.
Desperation and fear mingled in the air, bringing a sour taste to my mouth. This might be it. But I wouldn’t stop, not until Carson was dead.
I drew back and wheezed in a breath, filling my lungs with hatred for Carson. My ravaged knuckles beat against the bloody mess of my opponent’s face until his body went still.
I turned to Carson and watched with satisfaction as his expression changed. His complexion paled and fear took root in his eyes.
I lunged for the gun as he pressed the switchblade to Clara’s neck.
The moment caught me unaware and an odd sensation rushed through me as everything precious in my life hung in the moment.
Was this what Jake felt when our father held the knife to Kate’s throat? This fear and helplessness? The rage?
Only, I wasn’t helpless, and rage fed my beast.
When a man has everything to lose, he’ll do anything to win.
No longer hindered by Carson’s sick and twisted game, I took one breath to steady my hand.
I lifted the gun.
“Shoot and the girl dies.” Carson’s voice shook nearly as hard as his hand holding the knife.
If there was noise from the crowd, I couldn’t hear it. My entire existence narrowed down to three things.
Me.
The barrel of the gun.
And the path the bullet would take.
Chapter 51
Something dark and inhuman shifted inside of me. The beast roared, demanding Carson’s blood. My lips spread into a smile and I pulled the trigger.
One moment Carson stood with a knife held to Clara’
s throat. The next, his body crumpled to the ground. I may have imagined the widening of his eyes as the shock of the bullet penetrated his skull. It mattered that he knew I had won, but I would never be certain if that had been real or something imagined.
As for Clara?
Carson’s knife sliced across her neck and shoulder, but she was safe.
She was alive.
I turned on the crowd.
“Who the fuck is next?”
Not one man answered. A mob of cowards, they panicked and ran. I staggered to my feet, waving the gun as I searched for threats.
In my peripheral vision, Clara grabbed at her neck. A rivulet of blood dripped from the cut at her throat, and the whites showed around her eyes, but she appeared steady on her feet.
The same could not be said of Carson.
Eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, the motherfucker was dead.
I held the gun and searched for guards. Instead of jumping in and taking me down, or better yet putting a bullet in my head, they ran out of the room with the cowardly mob.
So much for loyalty.
I needed to act fast.
Jumping over the ropes, I rushed to Clara’s side. Removing my shirt, I thrust it at her.
“Put this on.” My shirt would hang halfway to her knees and cover her as best I could. “Are you okay?”
I glanced at her neck and took a look at the cut. Clean and shallow, it didn’t look as bad close up as it had from the ring. It would need stitches, but not immediate medical care.
“It’s barely a scratch.”
My girl was so damn strong.
Bending down, I rifled through Carson’s pockets looking for his phone. Putting a tracer on it seemed a moot point with him dead, but maybe Mitzy or Forest could salvage something from it in their search for Snowden. Meanwhile, I had other more important things to take care of…like getting the hell out of this place.
I checked the clip, counted the remaining bullets, and prayed I wouldn’t need any of them. Not knowing what waited for us outside, I prepared for the worst.
We didn’t have time to waste, but I went to the two dead guards on the mat to see if they had any other weapons. I pulled a revolver off one and found a second clip on the other.
Embracing Fate: A Captive Hearts Novel Page 39