Chapter 23 #2
I would take any explanation except the one nibbling at the back of my head.
Warwick.
It wasn’t merely because I imagined him . . . but because he had been here with me.
“You okay?” Tad shuffled behind me in the breakfast line, his lids narrowed on me curiously, drawing me out of my reprieve. My cheeks burned with what I had been just thinking about.
“Yeah, why?” I grabbed two trays, handing one back to Tad, clearing my throat.
“Something’s different.”
“More dirt, maybe?” I shrugged one shoulder.
“No.” He tilted his head, his gaze zeroing in on me like he was trying to peel back my soul.
“It’s strange, but it’s as though I can almost see an aura.
I can definitely feel it right now. Like it’s buzzing and glowing.
” His bushy brows strung into one long caterpillar.
“It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever experienced before. Reminds me of auras after sex.”
Oh.
Shit.
I twisted around, shoving my tray at the fae serving the watery oatmeal. Twice this week I had been denied food, so Tad shared his toast with me. But tonight was my next fight so I hoped they would allow me to eat.
Maybe it would be my last meal.
Survival was a strange thing. You learned the one way to keep going, to endure, was to compartmentalize. The memory of Aron was tucked away in a box in my mind, where I filed all the torture and torment too. I took every moment as it came, not thinking about anything except the present moment.
Even though my life was on the chopping block again, I behaved normally. I got up, peed, washed my face, and now was going to have breakfast.
Or was trying to.
The fae woman serving the food flicked up her nose, her head wagging.
“We don’t serve your kind here,” she spat.
“And what kind is that?” Fury sparked up my spine, and my patience flipped at the thought of another day eating crusts of bread. “I didn’t realize there was a ceiling on who you served in a place full of murderers, thieves, criminals, and rapists.”
“And they’re all better than the entitled daughter of General Markos,” she sneered, already motioning me to move. People bumped against me to move out of the way. She scooped up the diminishing food, putting it on their plates.
Fury ignited, my belly lined with bile, burning up my throat.
“No!” I slammed my tray down on the metal counter, my eyes watering.
Everyone stilled as I shoved the tray at her.
“Fill my bowl!” I seethed, leaning over the counter.
“No,” she insisted, her voice strained. She looked like a peacock, all sharp features, her beady black eyes staring down her long beak at me.
“I. Said. Fill. It.” Fury rattled through each word. I whipped out a hand and grabbed her by the throat. Her eyes widened with shock and fear, not seeing or expecting my move. “Now.”
She picked up her ladle, her hand trembling, and shoveled a scoop onto my dish.
“More.” I tightened my fingers, hearing the guards yelling at me, moving toward me. “For the Druid too.”
She filled his dish before I released her.
“Thank you,” I replied tartly, turning toward our table. I felt proud I’d stood up for myself.
It lasted for one pure blissful moment.
Slam!
My tray flipped, smashing into my face, oatmeal pouring down my front, burning my skin as everything tumbled to the ground with a loud crash.
“You think you can get away with that here, HDF bitch?” A huge man moved in on me, his friends stepping into my periphery.
Tattoos covered his neck, face, and arms, a ring through his nose, and his hair brown and wavy resembled buffalo fur.
His wide chest and shoulders and smaller legs told me he was probably exactly that.
Rodriguez’s group stood around me, almost all Bovidae-shifters, inching closer, puffed up and angry, their noses flaring with revenge.
Shit.
“You think you own the fuckin’ place now?” The buffalo widened his shoulders, stepping into me. “You cheated. There’s no way some scrawny human HDF rich bitch killed my friend.”
“If it helps you sleep at night.” My voice came out low, but louder than it should in the silent mess hall. Everyone, including the guards, stared at us like we were theater, tension and suspense threading through the space.
The buffalo-shifter inched closer, puffing up, threatening, and knocking into me. At the same time, his buddies moved in, bouncing me off them like a ball. They weren’t going to truly harm me. The rules stated I was to be untouched for the Games.
“I will kill you.” He shoved me again.
“Volunteer tonight then,” I growled, not caring how large and strong this fae was. “If you’re so sure your friend lost to this scrawny human HDF bitch by tricks, then step into the ring with me.”
What the fuck are you doing? Logic screamed at me. I didn’t know, nor did I seem to care.
“Or are you a coward?” Oohs and hisses sounded around my challenge. I lifted my lip into a sneer with confidence. “All talk? I think you just prance and put on a show but don’t have the guts to actually step into the ring.”
A gruesome smile edged his mouth, his hands stretching and rolling. “Why wait?”
It took only a second, a blink.
The buffalo’s hand wrapped around the back of my head and slammed me into a table with an agonizing crunch. Blood burst from my nose as my face knocked into someone’s food tray, scattering the contents across the room.
Shock and pain froze me. My certainty he wouldn’t touch me had blinded me, leaving me vulnerable.
I crumpled to the floor while cheers and hoots echoed in my ears as the buffalo grabbed my legs, yanking me away from the table, his fist coming down on my temple as sets of boots kicked into my body from all around.
Pain exploded through me. I was unable to catch my breath or get to my feet as six of them beat and stomped me. The agony was so overpowering, my brain started to shut down. This was not the way I thought I would die. I had already accepted one on one in the arena . . . but not this way.
But fair or right did not exist in this place. Not one guard stopped them, not one person tried to break them up. Not for me.
Darkness seeped into my mind, pulling me away from reality, detaching me from the excruciating agony, blood blinding my vision and choking my throat.
“STOP!” A voice thundered through the room, the vibration rumbling deep into my bones, yanking my soul back to the surface, forcing my eyes open with a gasp.
Warwick.
The herd halted, twisting around, their brutish egos flipping off like a switch.
“Shit!” Three of them scrambled back, horror streaking their features.
The main guy stood still, folding his arms, but I could see his jaw shifting, his shoulders rising in defense.
Footsteps hit the floor, and I heard gasps and movement as people got out of Warwick’s way, letting the Wolf cross the room.
Warwick parted the crowd, stepping up to the new buffalo leader. Emotionless, he stared at the man, but I noticed the tightness in his shoulders, a twitch under his eye. Signs that rage boiled under the surface.
The buffalo man was huge, but Warwick’s frame towered over him. The shifter gulped.
“You have the right to touch her?” Cold. Detached. His gravelly voice was somehow calm and threatening at the same time.
“Uh—well—I mean, she is HDF. Markos’s daughter.” The bull motioned to me. “And she cheated. Rodriguez’s death was not a fair fight.”
“You’re right; it wasn’t.” Warwick tilted his head, his words feeling like a trap.
“I must avenge my friend. And this bitch walks around here like she owns—”
Warwick’s arm darted out, his hand clamping down on the man’s neck, baring his teeth.
“I didn’t say why it wasn’t fair.” He squeezed, the shifter gasping and pawing at Warwick’s hand.
“Rodriguez was completely outmatched. She was by far the better fighter, killing two people in the arena while your friend pranced around like it was a pageant.” He yanked the man’s body closer to his face, their noses knocking together.
“You are the one dishonoring his death by being a bully and coward,” he seethed, spitting in his face.
“You touched her. Breaking the rules. You know what happens when someone starts acting as if they are in charge here?” The buffalo’s skin turned a deep purple, his mouth open, his eyes bugging.
“They are shown the error of their ways quickly.”
“Hey! He can’t breathe!” A buddy tried to step up, but Warwick glared. The guy stumbled back behind the others, hiding.
Warwick snorted. “Do you see anyone coming to save you? The fear pumping in your veins knows not one guard, not even your buddies here, are going to stop me. I want you to feel that. I hope it is your last thought.” Warwick squeezed harder, and the man’s legs bowed.
“You get off while six of you try to beat a tiny girl to death? Did it make you feel like a man?”
Tiny? I am not tiny, you asshole.
His gaze darted to me for a second.
“This is what I do to sad, insecure men like you,” Warwick snarled, clamping down harder. The shifter tried one last struggle, but his fingers dropped from Warwick’s grip, the whites of his eyes bursting red, a snap of his neck, and his jaw went slack.
Warwick let go, and the man’s lifeless figure fell to the ground with a thump.
Holy. Shit.
He killed him—without hesitation or effort.
“That’s a lesson for all. Do not test me, or you will join him.
” Warwick boomed to the stunned room, anger seeping through his statement.
“And if I hear one more of you touches her, or so much as breathes in her direction?” He paused, circling to all the inmates.
“You will be next. And I will not be so generous in how I kill you.” He glanced down at me, his eyes rolling coolly over me.
“She’s mine.” He paused for a moment, our gazes locking at his words before a cruel grin twisted his mouth. “My kill . . .”
The brief moment my heart fluttered into my throat was ruined by the ball of lead that entered my stomach, smashing my last bits of hope.
He crouched down, leaning in close to me.
“It’s you and me in the ring tonight. Your life is now mine, Kovacs.”
Now I understood why he had stepped in and saved me . . .
To kill me himself.