Chapter 18 #2
With a grunt, I drew it down with all the strength I had left, the point spearing through her throat.
It made a sick sound of flesh tearing, cartilage snapping as blood spurted out and sprayed my face.
She gasped, choking on her own blood, air funneling out of the hole in her throat, spewing up red liquid like a blowhole.
She fought for air for a while before her body went stiff.
Then life abandoned her in one violent spasm, her figure going limp.
I heard nothing but the sound of my own breath. My mind pulled back from the harshness of what I had just done, the spear stuck in her throat, piercing the ground. Adrenaline soared through my muscles, shaking me with excessive energy.
I had killed her. Brutally.
But I was alive. I survived.
Wiping the blood from my face with my arm, I stepped back, my sight catching the jarring movement in the crowd before my ears finally synced with it. Bursting me from my bubble and crashing me back to Earth.
“Fish!”
“Piranha!” another yelled out over the rest.
“Piranha! Piranha! Piranha!” The mass chanted, jumping up and down, their fists in the air rocking back and forth with their mantra.
I scanned the haze of people in a daze, sinking under the overwhelming energy of the crowd, drowning in their lust for blood.
I felt a subtle tug in my gut—a flutter, drawing my gaze to the side. Eyes seemed to glow like beacons in the darkness, grabbing on to me, yanking me back up, filling my lungs with air. I jolted as our gazes collided.
Warwick sat in his usual place, leaning back and angled to one side, his hand propped underneath his chin like he was watching a dull movie, but his gaze was sharp, burning into me.
My lids shut briefly, and I swallowed against the feeling that he stood right in front of me, his aura circling, touching me.
“Glorious.” I twisted around toward the voice behind me. Zander stood there with his expression blank, but his eyes were twinkling. “Your stomach is full. You took.” A smile hinted on his face. “You prevailed.”
“I prevailed.”
“Good.” He moved past me to Mio’s body. I watched him for a second before my gaze snapped back up the king’s spot in the stands.
Empty.
Leaving me feeling as if I had imagined the whole thing.
Strolling out of the arena, covered in blood, the cries of my new moniker against my back, I slipped down the dark tunnel away from the exhibition.
Mio’s death revealed one thing to the masses.
This fish had become a piranha.
The guards escorted me to a healer for my leg wound, who cleaned it and gave me medicine before I headed to the showers where a fresh uniform waited for me—a perk for winning.
Under the spray of water, blood swirled pink around my feet, slipping toward the drain. The blood churned, Mio’s and mine together, before disappearing. My arms shook as I pressed my palms to the tile, trying to keep myself up, the ringing in my ears and buzz of adrenaline receding dramatically.
My body responded fully to the night’s events, falling from the high, but my mind was still numb to the fact I murdered Mio.
It was for survival. It could easily be her bleeding in this shower instead of me, but the idea of killing a fellow human to entertain crowds coiled my heart and stomach in disgust.
“Two minutes!” A guard yelled at me, the same one who retrieved me from the hole. Scar Lip, I called him in my head. He seemed particularly fond of the shower shift. “Come on, fishy.” He leered at me. “Need help getting dressed this time?”
Wrapping myself with my towel, I strolled assertively over to him, staring up without a hint of fear. He sucked in at my proximity, still trying to keep the smirk on his face. His eyes tracked down my figure, the water dripping and sliding over my bruised and broken skin.
“Piranha,” I said, leaning closer. “And you ever touch me again, I will tear the flesh from your bones and use them to pick your remains from my teeth.”
He blinked, shocked at my words, but quickly shoved it away, pressing in closer to me. “You think because you killed one weak human, you’re invincible now?” His eyes ran down me again. “I could do anything I wanted to you right now, and not only could you not stop me, no one else would either.”
“Your deep insecurity about your manhood is showing,” I replied, ignoring the cold fear his words set in my bones.
He was probably right about no one helping, but I would never show him he could break me.
“Guess it’s not just a human male trait.
” Comparing a fae to a human was a great insult.
The fae believed themselves so far above such follies, but the longer the worlds mixed, the more each took on attributes of the other.
“You bitch,” he seethed, lurching for me. My fist rammed into his Adam’s apple, his body stumbling back as he clawed at his windpipe.
“Tsk. Tsk.” I clicked my tongue. “You know the rules. You can’t touch me.” It was something Tad told me. Once you were in the Games, no guard could rough you up. They wanted their fighters to be at their prime to put on the best show.
“No fun watching a fighter who’s already beaten to a pulp in the ring, giving no fight,” Tad had said.
“They want the prisoners so distracted by the spectacle to not think about the fact they are doing their dirty work for them. Killing fellow inmates, keeping down the numbers, while they cheer you on to do it again is really sick, but people love it until it’s their name thrown into the ring. ”
The guard hissed at me, his lids lowering to slits. With a leap, he grabbed my throat, squeezing down, blocking the air from my lungs. Abhorrence curved his scarred lip, death filling his eyes. “You filthy piece of . . .”
“Boyd!” A voice boomed through the room, bouncing off the tiles. Zander’s frame filled the doorway. “Let her go.”
The guard, Boyd, sneered at me, squeezing tighter.
“Boyd. I. Said. Let. Go.”
Boyd’s nostrils flared, and he shoved me back. Bending over, I drew air into my lungs with a burning cough.
“Watch yourself.” Boyd pointed at me before stomping out of the room, glaring at Zander.
Zander watched me as I straightened, my hand rubbing my throat.
“Get dressed.” He nodded at the pile on the table. “I will be right outside to escort you back to your cell.”
He retreated, leaving me to get dressed. Shakily, I drew my pants on, the spike of fear collapsing down around me again. Overwhelming emotions built behind my crashing adrenaline. I finished dressing, slipped back into my boots, and headed out to find Zander waiting exactly where he said.
He gave me a quick but warm smile before he took off down the corridor, passing other cells. My eyes locked on one of them.
“Stop,” I said to Zander, stepping up to the cage, peering at the person behind the bars. I knew the Games were still going, and almost all the cells were still empty.
Except this one.
I wasn’t the only one who no longer wanted to be part of the show tonight.
“Can you open this cell?” I looked at Zander, my voice empty.
He nodded, not questioning my reasoning. Using a master key on his belt, he slid the metal gate open with a shrill bang.
Tess got to her feet, her eyes tracking every movement I made.
Her jaw was locked, showing me no fear, but also no fight.
Her watery gaze held no sign any actual tears had fallen for her friend.
You didn’t do that here until deep in the night when no one could see, and your cries were absorbed with the others.
“My blanket.” It was an order, not a request or question.
She hesitated for a second, clearly battling the urge to fight. Begrudgingly she bent down, picking up a blanket from the nest she created on the ground.
“Both.”
Her cheeks twitched, rage flaring through her face, but she grabbed the other one as well, holding them out for me.
She knew the game inside and outside of the arena. This was how it worked, and I could not show leniency. Otherwise, I was weak.
Taking the blankets, I headed out of her cell, and Zander closed her back in.
“She died well,” I said.
“Fuck you.”
“No more, Tess,” I commanded. “Your war with me is done. You threaten me or even get in my way, and you join your friend.” I walked away before she could respond. Zander scrambled to catch up with me, keeping stride with me to my cell. Walking into it, I turned to face my guard.
“You are . . .” Zander shook his head in awe, sliding my door closed, grabbing the bars the moment it locked, staring at me. “Something.”
“I’m something all right.” I snorted, dropping the blankets to the ground.
His silence drew my attention back, his brown eyes watching me. His expression made nervous energy flush through my body.
He watched me boldly, his intention clear. But different from so many other men, Zander’s focus wasn’t leering or lustful. He wanted me, but his look was softer, almost longing. Sweet. In a place filled with violent death and cruel torture, it was jarring. Unsettling.
I didn’t know how to handle it. Staring down at the floor, I nervously licked my lip.
“There’s not a word I could find in this language that could define you.”
A curt laugh drove up through my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard cold-hearted bitch in almost all languages.”
“That is not at all the description I had in mind.” His gaze stayed intently on me until he peered off to the side, finally breaking the contact. “You have stirred something here. From the moment you walked in, you have changed the dynamics, the order. It’s as if everything is about to topple.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I just feel it.” His attention came back to my face. “And I feel myself being caught up in your current. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
I gulped, his declaration stirring both flames and ice in me, passion and fear.
He tapped the bars, stepping back. “Be careful of Boyd. He has a weak character, a lust for power and blood, and no conscience,” he said before marching away as if nothing personal transpired between us at all.
Wow. I shook my head. Tonight had been an extreme roller coaster, and I wanted to get off.
Lowering myself onto my blankets, I curled up, the extra padding feeling better than any luxury bed I’d ever slept in.
Distant cries and cheers from the games filled my ears with white noise, pulling me into a deep sleep. My body gave over to the first full night of sleep I had since arriving, probably thanks to whatever the healers shot me with.
In spite of that, Zander’s claim wound through my dreams. My sleep was haunted by images of HDF toppling, pieces crushing Caden and those I loved, while I stood in the middle . . . watching.