Chapter 39
Mila
After only ten steps down my hall, it feels as if my feet are weighed down by lead.
How can I be Dash ’ s shield in the shadows when I can barely walk in the dark?
I hit a solid wall while rounding the corner, my shoulders roll back from the impact. Glancing up, I see warm, light brown eyes looking down at me. “ What are you doing here?” I ask Dante as he blocks my path. “ Why are you not with Dash?” A bead of sweat falls from my brow. Dash needs both Cillian and Dante by his side tonight. They should be getting ready to go to the Cleansing. I wanted to be with Dash, to walk the path through the woods with him, to kiss him before he entered his trial. I knew Dash would never allow that, so when he walked out the door, I allowed him, knowing that I ’ d soon join all the other bystanders to watch the bloody fight.
“ I am with Dash. Watching you will keep his mind clear for the fight.” Dante responds as he crosses his arms, his tan biceps flexing, making me step back.
“ I ’ m going. You can ’ t stop me.” I take a step to my right, trying to pass him, but he blocks me.
Dante smirks. “ I could.” His voice takes on an energy as if my fight would entice a man like him.
Dante has always been the hardest to read. He ’ s always watching, judging, plotting. With just a single look, he can discern fifty ways to end your life and a hundred techniques to unravel your thoughts and manifest your deepest terrors. Cillian ’ s intimidating size may make people fear him initially, but Dante is the one they should truly be afraid of.
Dante steps closer, and my nostrils flare with his scent. “ If I wanted to.” He purrs in a joking yet serious tone, then pivots to the side, opening the pathway. Somehow, the hallway looks longer and more narrow, like the walls are closing in.
“ You will stay by my side.” It ’ s not an order; it ’ s a commandment.
I swallow. “ I don ’ t need a babysitter.”
“ You need so much, Mila.” He tilts his head. “ That ’ s why you insisted on going tonight. Greed, compassion, stupidity.”
“ Cheering for the man I love isn ’ t stupid.”
“ Cheering?” He raises a brow. “ Since when did our little ballerina become a observer of gladiatorial games?”
Since my heart was bound to the gladiator.
I exhale. “ You know what I mean. I…I have to be there. I have to make sure he wins.”
“ You think your presence can provide that?”
I shrug. “ I think it fuels Dash with a mix of things.”
“ It could hinder him.”
“ Or motivate him.” I rebut as Dante ’ s words take root in my belly. He ’ s right. Seeing me could distract Dash, but it could also give him a purpose to fight.
Dante steps closer, allowing our forearms to touch. “ You ’ re a light, a beacon that calls to him. He has to concentrate tonight. This is life or death.”
“ Light can be an inspiration.”
“ Or a pathway to destruction.” My furrowed brows have him revealing more. “ Any light in the dark can look bright and hopeful. It isn ’ t until you reach the source that you find out if the light is guiding you to relief or trapping you.”
“ We ’ re wasting time,” I scoff as I begin to walk. I reach the exit of my dorm and shove the doors open. Fresh air should help me feel better, but the thick humidity filling my lungs churns my stomach violently. I lick my lips and swallow down my nausea.
I feel Dante behind me. His presence is like a gentle breeze inching closer and closer until he's by my side, a strong wind that keeps others at bay. The walk to the woods is done in silence. Other students follow until they disappear in the thickness of the trees as if the branches are swallowing them.
I ask Dante in a hushed whisper, “ Do you think he can win?” It ’ s my greatest fear. Dash ’ s leg is healed, but it ’ s still fresh. One wrong kick could re-break his tender bones.
“ It ’ s that question that makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and lock you in your dorm.” Dante steps in front of me, “ If you insist on being light, then you better shine bright, Mila, for our world is thick with storms and shadows that seek out light to devour it. Shine far and wide, leave all doubts buried so deep in your mind that you forget how to utter them.”
“ Is that what you ’ ve done in order to survive?” I blurt out in a shaky breath.
His eyes narrow as he leans closer, so his breath hits my lips, forcing me to swallow down his admittance. “ I ’ ve done things that would make you never sleep again.” He stands tall. “ I do the things I have to do to protect my family. Dash is my family now.” His eyes hold mine in a fearsome grip I can ’ t shake. “ And so are you.” He says with a newfound softness and trust I ’ ve never heard leave his mouth before.
I take my next breath with a trembling inhale. Dante reaches out and grasps my shoulders. “ I know Dash loves you.”
Glancing down, I stare at his black combat boots. “ He won ’ t ever say it,” I whisper in pain.
“ Some feelings can ’ t be spoken, but rather shown,” Dante responds. “ No matter what happens, we will protect you.”
My heart skips a beat. Did Dante vow that because he thinks Dash will die tonight, or are his words meant to soothe my wounded, lovesick heart because the man it wants will never admit his love for me?
The air is electric with energy. You can taste the ravenous bystanders salivating for blood and feel the worry of those who don ’ t like to watch but do so because, one day, they might be called to participate.
Enclosed by a circle of pine trees in the forest is a clearing at the bottom of a ditch with a spotlight to enhance the fighting stage. Other than the lights, there is absolutely nothing else - no protection, padding, or modern-day equipment. It enhances the barbaric sensation, as if you were hunted by a wolf pack and suddenly cornered in a desolate place. There ’ s no grass; it ’ s been stomped away, and it was only given blood to quench its thirst. A few rocks are scattered and dirty; I don ’ t miss how some have a darkened grayish-red color tinging them.
I wonder if the person whose blood is staining those rocks survived.
The students inch forward, shoulder to shoulder, making the atmosphere feel claustrophobic and inciting more panic within our chests.
Without thinking, I reach out and grasp Dante ’ s hand. His fingers curl around mine, providing me with the comfort I need. “ Where is he?” I ask. I want to go closer, but I ’ m so short that if I move in, I won ’ t be able to see, so I ’ m stuck lingering at a distance higher up on the hillside.
There ’ s a loud sucking in the air as if everyone ’ s oxygen was just vacuumed out. Cloaked figures emerge from behind the pines encircling the pit.
Is this a horror movie? No, this is your life; you just woke up, stepped out of bed, and looked under the covers. This has always been the case; you just try to ignore it while you dream really away.
Dante grips my hand tighter. “ Shh, Only whisper until the games begin. We don ’ t want to draw their attention.”
Who are they?
I look at him and see pained memories flash in his eyes. I never considered how hard it might be for him to come here again, to witness the stage where he killed a man in order to survive and provide twisted entertainment for men who remain in the shadows.
“ The Cleansing shall begin,” one faceless figure announces. “ Tonight is hand-to-hand combat.” The crowd boos, wanting something more theatrical, like a game of hunting or, worse, sword to sword, which I ’ ve heard they ’ ve done in the past. “ till one man is left standing.”
“ Or woman, you fucking prick,” a girl next to me grunts, making me think she wants to fight.
I pivot my eyes toward her. It ’ s Avery Hailstone. She ’ s tall and pretty; her thick curly hair makes her ponytail look like it has extensions, but she ’ s just blessed with great genetics. She could be a model if she were born into a normal family. It ’ s her eyes that reveal her hate. I can tell she wants to escape just like I do, but instead of running, this girl would be willing to fight her way out.
I envy that. I don ’ t know if I could ever have that mindset.
Feeling my stare, she looks down at me, her vengeful eyes filling with pity. Everyone knows Dash and I are together.
“ I bet on Dash.” Avery tells me.
My chin dips. How do I reply? Thanks for thinking the man I love will kill his opponent.
Avery nods and looks away, knowing I can ’ t answer because I ’ m too weak to.
“ Dash King,” the cloaked man shouts, “ You are called to participate!”
I inhale sharply and hold my breath, unable to breathe again until I see him. Out from the trees, Dash emerges, Cillian behind him, remaining at the base of the tree. My exhale is slow as I take in every inch of him. He ’ s alive and unharmed, but for how long?
His light blonde hair shines off the spotlights like poured metal, his sharp jaw is set in stone as his attention draws towards the stage.
Look at me! Please.
He steps away from Cillian and into the fighting pit. He ’ s only wearing combat boots and tight shorts. “ Why isn ’ t he dressed more?” He needs layers to protect him.
“ Clothing is a tool for the enemy. It gives them something to grab and offset their balance. See his skin?” Dante asks.
I nod.
“ That ’ s oil. When the enemy tries to grab him, it will be tougher. No weapons are allowed, but they allow this.”
“ Does it make it easier?” I ask. My voice is a fading ember in the dark.
Dante nods as he looks ahead. “ Yes, any advantage we can take, we will.”
“ That ’ s not what I meant.”
Dante finally peels his eyes away from the pit.
“ Does referring to our fellow student as the enemy make it easier to kill him?”
Dante ’ s jaw clenches. “ This is a solo game, Mila. It is you and your enemy. Survival of the fittest. We ’ re not students; we never really have been.” His anger morphs into pity. “ We are pawns. Our only goal is to make it across the chess board, so we have the opportunity to change shape, no longer being a pawn but something with a fighting chance at survival.”
I want to hug Dante and apologize to the boy who never got to live a normal childhood, to play and explore the world. He is nothing more than a resilient man attempting to hold his shattered heart together.
Dante steps closer, “ A pawn can change to a queen, Mila, remember that.” His lip tugs up before his eyes leave mine and return to the fighting pit.
Dash steps to the center and nods. Then I see his eyes scan the crowd. Dante and Cillian do the same scanning motion.
“ Who do you think his opponent is?” I ask Dante.
“ I think it will be Clive Chesterfield. Dash ’ s dad bought their company out from under their feet ten years ago. All they have left to their name is money, which doesn ’ t hold much value in our world. Secrets give you power, and they hold value longer than pennies do.”
I nod, feeling good. Clive is leaner than Dash, and although he fights, I know Dash can beat him. Maybe that ’ s all Dash has to do: knock him out. The rules are the last man standing. You can knock your enemy out and then choose to walk away. However, many men choose the second option; they go for the kill. They fight to their last breath, and a simple knockout rarely ever happens.
A second figure stands next to the other faceless man; his lips part as he begins to announce the opponent. It ’ s in that second that Dash looks up directly into my eyes like I ’ m his due north.
My lips freeze as all my emotions pour out from the look in my eyes. I want to run to him, scream and shout, grab his hand in mine, and force him to run with me.
Instead, Dante steps closer, his grip on my hand more like cuffs, chaining me to his side.
I love you, I mouth to Dash.
His jaw clenches, and his eyes turn cruel as they look away from me like I ’ m a creature of disgust. It ’ s then the cloaked man announces Dash ’ s competition.
A new fear settles in my heart because this opponent isn ’ t just any student. He ’ s always viewed Dash as the enemy.
There will be no mercy, no walking away until one of them kills the other.