Chapter 14
chapter
fourteen
Haven
Spider said that Black Star members have their own private training area and that Ender had it booked at five in the morning. It’s our day off, and I want to spend it with my sister. I’m done letting Ender decide when I’m allowed to fight him for the right.
I want my rematch.
Ender stands under the dim lights, binding his cracked fists with gauze. He is shirtless. Tattoos coil down his back and forearms, the inked lines shifting with every movement. At the top of his back are the wings of a bird. I think it might be an osprey.
His corded muscle flexes as his fists slam into a sandbag. By the third hit, it breaks free and flies off the hook.
“What did I say about disturbing me?” he bellows, spinning around.
His expression darkens when he realizes it is me.
“Get out,” he says.
“I want to fight,” I say. “If I win, I see my sister.”
“I decide when you see your sister.”
“You said if I beat you—”
“That was weeks ago.” A cruel smile curves his mouth. “It doesn’t apply anymore. You lost your chance.”
My jaw tightens.
“I want to fight now.”
“Too bad, Warrick,” he says, mock sympathy dripping from his words. “I’ve changed my mind.”
I’m still raw from yesterday. A part of me blames Ender Vale for all of it. We could be tested without killing each other, but he made the rules to turn us into him. Ruthless. Cruel. Evil.
He re-hooks a fresh sandbag. I draw my gun and fire. Four clean shots. The bag deflates in a rush of sand.
Ender spins. His blue eyes go glacial. His body coils, fury rippling through him.
“Fight me,” I demand.
He crosses to the weapons rack and draws a long, thin sword.
“Remember,” he says slowly, pointing the tip of his blade at me, “you asked for this.”
I slide my twin blades free.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“The last person who said that I fed them their intestines.”
Ender lunges. His long legs devour the distance between us. For a moment, my heart stutters. I snap my blade up as he attempts to slash my throat.
He doesn’t slow. His strikes come faster. The impact of his blows rattles my teeth, driving me back until my spine hits the wall. I jerk my head aside as his blade punches into the plaster where my face was a second earlier.
I pushed him too far. Whatever restraint he had is gone, and something feral has taken its place.
This was supposed to be a practice fight, but this crazy bastard is trying to kill me.
I strike while he’s busy yanking his sword free. I bury my blade into his thigh.
He grunts and rips it out like it’s nothing.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
Is he so focused on killing me that he refuses to feel pain? That should have made him falter.
He smiles. It’s wrong. Twisted. It sends a shiver straight down my spine as he slowly advances towards me.
“Do you want to know your weakness, Warrick?” he asks. “You feel too much. Your face is a map of your emotions. It makes you sloppy. It makes you predictable.”
“So, I am supposed to be a cold, unfeeling bastard, like you?”
We circle each other.
“You looked like you’d faint after you slaughtered that girl yesterday,” he remarks. “First kill?”
I tighten my jaw.
“It gets easier,” he continues.
“It shouldn’t,” I say.
“Wrong profession,” Ender says. “You can always leave.”
“No, I can’t,” I say. “It’s Black Star or die. Remember?”
I drop into a roll as his blade whistles through the air, the cut close enough that I feel it skim my hair. I come up fast, snatching my fallen knife and throwing it on instinct.
He tilts his head and bats it aside, smacking the hilt. He’s on me before I can recover. A hand clamps around my throat and slams me into the wall. His blade presses against my heart.
“This is what happens when you forget your place,” Ender says.
My vision spots. My fingers claw at his wrist, but it’s useless against his strength. He tightens his grip enough to make a point. My knee slides between his legs as I aim for his manhood. Last time I tried this, I didn’t get the chance to strike true. But this time it lands.
Ender snarls and staggers back. I don’t wait. I grab the blade he ripped out from his thigh and slash at his arm. The steel sinks in, biting deep enough to draw blood.
“That’s not very nice, sunshine,” he says between clenched teeth.
He comes at me again, faster than before. I barely keep up. Every block sends pain screaming down my wrists. He herds me until my back is against the wall again. I’m boxed in with nowhere left to retreat.
His long blade knocks mine aside, and his hand coils around my throat once more.
“Bend,” he snarls.
He applies enough pressure to force me to my knees. My eyes burn with venom.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t sever your head and use it as a footstool?”
My chest rises and falls. He could kill me at any moment. And I signed that damn contract so he won’t suffer any repercussions.
“Because you’d have to see my face more than you’d like?”
“You’re right,” Ender agrees. “That would be distasteful.”
I swallow back the insult that dances on my tongue. Once I’m a few feet away from him, I’ll respond. That is assuming he releases me and lets me live.
“Behaving for once?” he asks. “Or are you saving your insults for when you’re far away from my blade?”
My eyes widen.
“How—”
“You are terrible at pretending to be good,” Ender says. “Your eyes are spewing the filth your mouth doesn’t dare utter.”
The door cracks open, and Spider rushes in.
“I just realized when I told Mercy you were here, she was probably going to…” Spider halts. “Disturb you.” He finishes.
“Get out!” Ender snaps.
Ender’s cold eyes don’t retreat from mine. It burns with loathing. This guy really hates me, well, he hates everyone, but I’m definitely at the top of his list.
Spider speaks slowly. “Are you going to kill her, or did I walk into some weird role-play?”
“Out!”
Spider walks backward, hands raised in defense.
“You’re just going to leave me here?” I ask. “You are the worst—”
Ender’s hand falls on my mouth, silencing me.
“He can’t save you.”
The door clicks shut. It brings me some measure of satisfaction that I can see the bleeding cut on his thigh.
His navy-blue lounge pants hang low on his hips.
I take a second to study the intricate design of his tattoos.
Eight stars form a circle on his heart, which likely stands for Black Star, his unit; there are six numerals under his left rib, and a dagger is on his sternum with a snake coiled around it.
His hand raises my chin until my neck burns.
“Stop gawking at me,” he says.
“Shy?” I ask.
“I just think your sister wouldn’t appreciate the thought of you making eyes at her husband,” Ender says mildly. “Don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t making eyes, you conceited bastard,” I hiss. “How dare you?”
Ender’s mouth twitches.
“And don’t pretend that you care about my sister. Name one thing that you know about her?” I ask.
Ender tilts his head, considering the question.
“She looks like you,” he says.
I wait for a beat until I realize that is the sum of his knowledge about my sister.
“She is kind and generous and has a heart twice the size of mine and yours,” I say. “She is the better half of me. And you are a fool to ignore what is right in front of you.”
“You forgot to mention, she’s a liar,” he says. “Just like you.”
Unease slips down my spine. He definitely knows about the switch. But he hasn’t done anything about it? He simply dangles it over my head like a noose.
I’m technically impersonating a soldier, which would get me at least a decade in prison if not execution.
“Let me go.”
To my surprise, he releases me.
“You can visit her for one hour tomorrow,” Ender says. “At 10 o’clock.”
I scramble to my feet, staring at him with a wary look. Is he letting me see Mercy even though I lost? That seems highly unlikely.
“I didn’t win,” I say slowly. “And I attacked you.”
“Do you want to see her or not?” Ender asks sharply.
“I’ll be there,” I say quickly, in case he changes his mind.
I can’t resist my next words. I hate that he bested me. It infuriates me in ways that I cannot describe.
“One day,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “I’m going to be the one standing over you. One day, I’ll have you on your knees.”
Ender stills. He leans in slowly, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body and inhale his warm scent. He smells like fresh laundry and mint.
“If I am ever on my knees before you,” he says, “it’ll be because I want to be. Not because you forced me.”