carried across 54

 

54 Rage Baiting. 

Sera 

I opened my right eye. 

Taya was staring at my face. Her confident smile faltered. She watched the bleeding stop. She saw my nose straighten. 

“What are you doing?” Taya demanded. Her voice wavered for a fraction of a second. 

I did not answer. I bucked my hips upward. I used every ounce of strength I had left in my core. 

Taya lost her balance. She pitched forward, her hands hitting the dirt next to my head to catch herself. 

I shoved her heavy chest off me. I scrambled out from under her legs. I rolled across the frost and pushed myself up to my feet. My left thigh screamed in protest, but I locked the knee. I stood there, panting heavily. Steam rose from my blood-soaked tunic in the freezing air. 

Taya stood up quickly. She wiped the dirt from her hands. She looked truly angry now. The arrogance was gone. She realized I was healing. She realized I was not going to just lie there and let her beat me 

unconscious. 

“You are just delaying the inevitable,” Taya spat. She raised her fists and started circling me again. Her steps were heavier. She wanted to end it quickly now. 

Torin yelled again from the sidelines. “Alpha Volkov! She cannot win! You are letting her suffer for nothing!” 

Fenris ignored him. He looked right at me. 

“Does she yield?” Fenris asked. His voice carried perfectly across the dirt ring. He directed the question entirely at me. 

I looked at Taya. I looked at the blood coating her knuckles. My body felt incredibly heavy. The forced healing had drained a massive amount of my energy. I couldn’t take another series of direct hits. I couldn’t out-muscle her. 

Angry fighters make mistakes. 

I dropped my hands to my sides. I left my face completely open and unprotected. I stood up straight, ignoring the throbbing pain in my jaw and the burning in my leg. 

Taya stopped circling. She frowned. Her eyes darted to my empty hands, then back to my face. She didn’t charge. She was a trained fighter; she recognized bait when she saw it, even if she didn’t understand the strategy behind it. 

“No,” I said loudly. I spat a thick glob of bloody saliva onto the dirt right in front of Taya’s boots. “I do not yield.” 

1/3 

Taya glared at me. “Put your guard up, Southern trash.” 

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“Why?” I asked. I forced a bloody, broken smile. “So you can hit my arms again? You aren’t doing any real damage.” 

Taya’s jaw tightened. She didn’t lose her temper. She stepped in sharply and threw a crisp, technical left jab aimed right at my nose. 

I watched her shoulder. I slipped to the right. The punch missed by two inches. 

I didn’t counter. I just stepped back and left my hands hanging by my thighs. 

“Slow,” I said. 

Taya exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. She reset her stance. She stepped in closer and threw a rapid three-punch combination-jab, cross, hook. 

I moved. I ducked the jab, barely leaned back far enough to avoid the cross, and took the hook as a glancing blow off my shoulder. The impact shoved me back a step, but I didn’t fall. I immediately dropped my hands back to my sides. 

The crowd went quiet. They didn’t understand what they were watching. 

Taya stopped. She looked at her fists, then at me. Frustration flickered in her eyes. She was used to opponents who blocked, grappled, and fought back. She wasn’t used to hitting empty air while being stared at by someone with their hands down. 

“You’ve been training since you were five?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. My voice carried clearly in the quiet yard. “Was your instructor blind?” 

Taya clenched her fists. “Shut your mouth.” 

She faked a high punch and drove a low kick toward my bad leg. I saw her hips twist just in time. I pulled my leg back. Her heavy boot swept through nothing but cold air, throwing her slightly off balance. 

She recovered quickly, but her breathing was getting heavier. 

“Look at your father,” I said. I didn’t even glance at Kael. I kept my eyes locked on her. “He looks embarrassed. His chief daughter, trained since childhood, can’t even put down a soft southern Omega.” 

Taya’s eyes darted to the sidelines. It was an involuntary reaction. 

Kael was standing at the edge of the ring. His face was red. “Stop playing with her, Taya! Put her on the ground! Finish it!” 

The pressure hit her. I saw it register in her posture. She hated looking incompetent in front of her father. She hated looking foolish in front of the pack. 

She turned back to me, her teeth bared. She threw a heavy overhand right. It was fast, but the technique was starting to slip. She was putting too much power into it, trying to end the fight with one hit. 

2.3 

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I ducked under it. I could smell the sweat on her skin as she blew past me. 

I backed up three steps, keeping the distance, keeping my hands down. My lungs burned. Dodging took almost as much energy as getting hit. I needed her to snap completely before my legs gave out. 

“Is that it?” I asked, letting out a dry, mocking laugh. “I barely felt that last one on the ground. Did your father buy you those muscles, or are you just naturally weak?” 

The crowd gasped collectively. The insult violated every unwritten rule of Ironmaw respect. 

Kael shouted from the sidelines again, his voice cracking with rage. “Break her legs! Tear her apart!” 

The humiliation finally boiled over. Taya’s face turned a violent shade of purple. Her eyes narrowed into furious, hateful slits. The disciplined fighter vanished. She let out a loud, guttural roar, completely abandoning her defensive stance. She charged at me like a rabid animal. 

She pulled her right arm back, winding up for a massive, wild hook. She dropped her shoulder, twisted her entire torso, and put her full body weight behind the punch. She intended to take my head off in one single shot. It was incredibly powerful, and incredibly telegraphed. 

I didn’t dodge backward. 

I stepped directly inside her guard. 

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