Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zuz’s expression shut down, not allowing me to see any emotion. Her trembling body gave her away, her movements jittery and tense.
Can’t say the feeling ever went away, knowing this time could be your last.
Boyd stopped by Zuz, heading for the gate. “Like I said earlier, kill her, and you can have your freedom.” He smirked back at me, leaving the arena. Now I understood why they pulled her from the factory earlier. To get her ready to kill me without hesitation, giving her stakes worth fighting for.
Zuz’s jaw locked down, her lids narrowing, starting to circle me.
“Zuz, he’s lying to you.” I countered her progression. She wasn’t as close to me as Birdie or Kek, but she was still one of the group. One of Andris’s soldiers. She was cared about and friends with the same people I was. “He won’t set you free.”
“Does it matter?” She crouched lower, her hands rolling into balls. “Only one of us can walk out of here, anyway. And I’m gonna make sure it’s me.”
The crowd started off with a mix of horror and excitement seeing us, as if they were aroused in their disgust. Sarkis’s army only saw two friends facing off, but the thrill of the Games, the spectacle Markos was putting on, soon had the stomping of feet and chants eclipse the ones who were crying foul.
“Blood-ing!” was chanted out like a battle cry. The mantra corroded my stomach, tapping my pulse against my neck with hot and cold chills of the past.
Adrenaline from the crowd pumped into the air, crackling the tension between us. Nervous energy pushed her to act first. Springing for me, I slipped by her, twisting as she passed. My fist colliding with her temple, stumbling her to the side.
Her eyes blazed, as if her ego was embarrassed that I got the first knock. Her fae sensibility wasn’t used to it.
Ego could get you killed here. It didn’t matter who got the first hit. It was the last that counted.
Zuz came for me with a grunt, swiping her arms at me. I barricaded against her attack, moving quicker than I thought I could around her, my knuckles cracking into her kidney, forcing her to falter again.
Fury contorted her face, and she barreled for me with a cry. Grabbing my arms, yanking me in, she slammed her head into my face. Blood instantly gushed from my nose. The crowd “ooh’d” with the first sight of blood, the cheers growing louder.
Wiping my nose with my arm, I stepped back, and we circled each other again. While we were striking out with punches and kicks, which didn’t connect, the masses grew louder in their need for more action.
Zuz was no different from some of the others I fought in the Games, getting caught up in wanting to win the crowd’s favor over blocking them out and surviving.
I used it to my advantage.
Letting her get a hit in, they chanted her name, pulling her focus.
Darting closer, my fist smashed into her throat. Zuz’s head snapped back, gasping. Her body flew back, hitting the dirt. I leaped down for her just as she rolled, knocking me over onto my side. Her boot kicked out, slamming into my stomach. Pain exploded across my abdomen as she kicked again.
“Get the fuck up, Kovacs. Find a weapon and kill her.” As if a tendril of a ghost brushed the back of my neck, my head jolted to the crowd. Did I imagine his voice?
I didn’t get time to reflect. Zuz leaped on me. As we wrestled, I saw her reach up into her hair, yanking something out.
A hairpin—and not any normal one you used to set your hair. This one had a dagger point, sharp and long enough to kill.
We had been stripped of all items when we arrived, left with nothing that could be used as a weapon. This was given to her here . . . and I had no doubt by who.
Boyd.
Acute pain pierced my shoulder as she stabbed the sharp prick into my muscles, tearing through my skin and nerves.
“I’m going to walk out of here,” she seethed, yanking it out and pointing it at my heart. “And if I have to kill you to do it, so be it.”
This had always been a fight to the death, but something switched at that moment.
I had been hesitating. As if there was some slim chance I wouldn’t have to kill again. To go to the place inside myself, even I feared. That was no longer an option.
Clutching her arm to keep her from stabbing me again, I popped my elbow up, whacking her across her face. It halted her for a moment.
It was enough.
With all the energy I could muster, I flung her off me, scrambling up to my feet.
I no longer heard the crowd. No longer saw anything but her. The monster roared from the depths of my body, crawling from the mud and muck, dragging itself back up to the surface.
I kicked her in the face with a crack, driving a cry from her lips, her body tumbling over into the dirt.
The hairpin tumbled from her fingers.
As I learned before, it was kill or be killed. I would not die tonight.
Jumping for the weapon, her legs shot up, tripping me. My face hit the dirt with a thud, sliding the pin farther from us.
It was a millisecond. We looked at each other and then at the hairpin. Clawing and scrambling, we lunged for it, kicking, punching, and hitting each other to get it first.
My fingers wrapped around the cool metal.
“No!” Zuz growled, jumping on me to get it as I rolled over to face her.
She quickly realized her mistake.
The dagger point sliced through her ribs, stabbing through her lung like a popped balloon.
Her body froze, her eyes widened, peering down at the end of the hairpin sticking out of her chest, and then looking at me with wild disbelief and horror.
Pushing her off of me, I ripped it back out, climbing up to my feet.
Her palm covered over the hole in her chest, her frame shook with each breath, still staring at the wound as if she was couldn’t believe what happened. Until the shock wore off and her raspy breaths became wet gasps.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!” The crowd roared.
With one lung heaving with a rasping inhale at their chant, Zuz realized who the death call was for this time. A guttural whimper wheezed from her as she tried to crawl away from me.
The sickness of what I had to do screamed through me like I was the one about to die. My chin trembled as I strode over to her as her body tried to suck in oxygen. She would die anyway, but that didn’t make it easier.
“Kill! Kill!”
I shut down. I could not show weakness. This place preyed on it, sucking on it until you had nothing left.
I spent so long hiding from the memories of the Games, turning away, ignoring the truth of myself. It was the only way to survive the day. But now, I had to both face them and sink into them, wrap the talons of horror and death around me, and become the monster once again.
With the force of an axe, I came down on Zuz, the sharp hairpin piercing her chest with a sick wet sound, sinking into the walls of her good lung before I yanked it back out.
Her mouth opened in a wheezy cry, all the air leaking from her lungs.
Her form withered and fought against the invisible force claiming her life, along with the sounds of her gasping and struggling for air.
Wet. Raspy. Then the fight left her body.
A tear slid down her cheek before she stopped moving, her eyes blank.
Zuz was dead.
Fury and grief collided, huffing out my nose. I was forced to kill another comrade, used for entertainment, doing their own dirty work.
Slowly, I lifted my head to Istvan, staring at him with an unrelenting gaze.
Covered in gore, grime, and sweat, my fingers wrapped around the hairpin, blood dripping from it onto the dirt.
The object that was supposed to kill me.
My jaw clicked together, my head tipping at him just enough for him to recognize my challenge.
The girl he had trained to become a soldier . . .
Turned into a warrior.
And she would not stop until she took him down.
Istvan stepped up to the railing of the balcony. His arrogance pulsated off him, the stench of his ego stronger than the blood drenching the ground.
“Bravo, my dear.” Istvan’s voice filled the arena, his voice thundering, the crowd hushing in an instant.
All eyes on the new king of Věrh?za. “I always knew you were a good fighter, one of the best in your class if I recall, but it was breathtaking to watch you kill a fae.” He looked positively giddy at Zuz’s dead body.
“There could be hope for you yet in my regime.”
A wave of nausea curled in my throat. It was survival. I learned that the first time. Zuz would have killed me. It was her or me. Though I could feel with each life I took, I became more of the person he was trying to create.
A soulless monster.
And I would not bend to his image.
“No.” I sneered.
Istvan’s head tilted. A look I used to see when Caden and I bucked his authority, a sign of the punishment he would come back with later.
He never hit us; that would have been too easy.
Istvan’s abuse was psychological. Making us choose between causing pain to ourselves or the other.
We always chose ourselves, but it mentally messed with the other one, anyway.
Istvan loved games.
“I think you will change your mind.” He smirked at me.
A figure came up beside Istvan, looping her arm with his, pulling my focus at the massive diamond engagement ring glinting off the lights. She was dainty, with long dark hair and delicate features. Her lips pursed, peering down at me like garbage before smiling adoringly up at Istvan.
My body jolted, watching him turn to gaze down at her. His smile was empty, but he leaned over, kissing her.
The woman was not Rebeka, but Olena, the princess of Ukraine. The woman engaged to Caden. Or had been.
What the hell was going on? Where was Rebeka?
My chest sucked in at seeing Olena snuggle closer in, whispering in his ear like lovers, her cruel superiority over everything written on her face.
He gave her a nod, his grin appearing more genuine, his hand rubbing over hers.
“My soon-to-be bride enjoyed watching you fight so much she would like an encore,” Istvan announced, nodding down at the gate. “Bring out the next.”
Soon to be bride?
Next?
“This one will be very interesting.” He lifted a brow, patting her hand absently.
My head darted to where Istvan gestured. Boyd strolled to the pit gate with the same malicious sneer slid over his face I recalled from one of my previous times fighting in the Games. The elation he got in making me fight two at once. One person he specifically had picked for me: Aron.
My stomach twisted into knots as I watched a form being dragged down the passage, the terror of who they were bringing wracked through my body.
A bag was over the person’s head as they kicked and thrashed against the guards, but I could tell it was female.
Boyd opened the gate, the squeal of the hinges piercing through my ears. The taste of adrenaline, sharp and metallic, caked on my tongue.
My heart slammed against my ribs. The guards shoved her forward, her body hitting the ground. Boyd reached over, ripping the bag from her head.
No . . . oh gods, no.
I heard the scream inside my head, the tears burning behind my lids, the agony of what Istvan was doing. The cruelty of his punishment.
“Nooooo!” I heard a woman wail from the stands, the pain and agony of a mother’s cry shredding through me.
Hanna Molnár, my friend, my comrade since our early teens. The one I would have fought to the death to protect . . . was now the one I would have to kill.
Watching her rise to her feet, her blue eyes locked on mine with confusion and fear, but a formidable strength most pretended to have.
The girl was not the same as the one I fought in class. She had changed. Her time at Sarkis’s had woken something in her.
“No,” I yelled up at Istvan. “I won’t play your fucked up games.”
His brow curved. “We’ll see, won’t we?” He nodded again at Boyd.
Nausea spun my head as I watched him open the gate again, another form being shoved through.
My heart dropped out, flipping around on the dirt, no longer wanting to be in my body, the pain too deep.
“Scorpion . . .” His name trembled out of my mouth.
His gaze went from me to Hanna. “No!” He belted out, his head shaking.
“If I’m not mistaken, the rules of the Games are if you don’t participate . . . you all die,” Istvan stated.
Boyd nodded his head, his glare locking with mine, knowing I understood this firsthand.
Fury broke through Scorpion as terror washed over Hanna, her mouth parting.
“Wasn’t he your tormentor when you were being held prisoner? Didn’t you say you wished you had the chance to kill him?” Istvan addressed Hanna, motioning to Scorpion. “I am giving you that chance.”
“I-I . . . that’s not . . .” Her head shook slightly.
“I thought you would be happy to kill your fae captor.”
Hanna’s head darted to Scorpion and then to Istvan. The sureness I had seen in her at Sarkis’s base, her disgust of fae, her righteousness, wasn’t there.
“I can’t fight them,” she croaked.
“Oh, don’t worry. I made this competitive enough. I wouldn’t throw you in without giving you an even playing field.” Istvan smirked, making my stomach drop. “Every meal you’ve had since returning has been doused with fae essence.”
“What?” Terror exploded over her features.
Oh fuck, no. I jerked to her. She blinked in confusion, peering at her hands, as if at that moment she felt the drug running through her veins.
He had given Hanna the formula.
Fuck . . .
That meant there were two fae in this ring, and I was the one who held no power now.
“As your Emperor of Věrh?za and soon to be Sovereign King of the East,” Istvan boomed, Olena’s smile widening in pride at the thought of being his queen. “I declare the tournaments of death officially open.” His cold eyes turned to me.
“Let the Games begin . . .”