carried across 55

 

55 Dismantling The Threat 

Sera 

Taya’s massive fist sailed past my ear, the displacement of air whistling like a blade. 

Because I stepped inside her guard, her own momentum carried her forward. Her right side slammed into my chest. She was incredibly heavy, feeling like a solid wall of warm stone. 

I didn’t back away. I planted my boots in the dirt, shifted my hips, and drove my right elbow straight up into her exposed throat. 

The hard point of my elbow connected directly with her windpipe. 

Taya let out a wet, gagging choke. Her eyes went wide. She stumbled backward, clutching her neck with her left hand. She coughed, a harsh, scraping sound that echoed in the quiet yard. 

The crowd gasped. 

I didn’t give her time to recover. I stepped forward and threw a heavy right cross aimed at her jaw. 

But Taya was a born killer. Even choking, her instincts were terrifying. She dropped her level, letting my punch sail over her head. She lunged forward and wrapped her thick arms around my waist. 

She lifted me completely off the ground. 

Panic spiked in my chest. My boots kicked empty air. Taya roared, her throat still raspy, and drove me backward. We flew across the ring. She slammed my spine directly into one of the thick wooden posts that marked the edge of the training yard. 

The impact knocked the breath out of me instantly. My vision flashed white. 

Taya didn’t let go. She pulled me a foot away from the post and slammed me into it again. Wood splintered against my back. The pain radiated deep into my vertebrae. 

“You die here!” Taya screamed in my face. Her breath smelled of iron and dirt. 

She dropped my waist, grabbed the collar of my tunic with both hands, and headbutted me. 

Her forehead crashed into the bridge of my freshly healed nose. The cartilage held, but the sheer force of the blow rattled my brain. I slumped forward. My legs turned to water. I hit the frozen dirt on my hands and knees. 

Taya kicked me in the ribs. 

I rolled across the ice and mud, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. My body was completely failing. The sheer exhaustion from forcing my body to heal twice was dragging me down like lead chains. My muscles felt hollow. Every cell in my body was screaming for calories, for rest, for anything but this. 

I stopped rolling near the edge of the ring. I lay on my side, my cheek pressed against the freezing ground. 

+25 Bonus 

“Get up!” Kael shouted from the sidelines. “Finish the southern trash!” 

Taya walked toward me. Her breathing was heavy, ragged from the blow to her throat, but she looked completely energized by the violence. She wiped a smear of my blood off her forehead. 

“You thought you were clever,” Taya mocked, stopping a few feet away. She kicked a spray of frozen dirt into my face. “You thought dodging a few punches made you a warrior. You are nothing. You are a broodmare playing dress-up in the dirt.” 

I tried to push myself up. My arms shook violently. My elbows buckled. I collapsed back onto the frost. I couldn’t do it. The physical disparity was simply too massive. She outweighed me. She had decades of muscle memory. I was fighting a mountain, and I was completely out of fuel. 

I looked through the legs of the front row of the crowd. 

Fenris stood there. 

He hadn’t moved an inch. His arms were still crossed under his heavy fur cloak. His grey eyes were locked onto me. His face was a complete, immovable blank mask. There was no pity there. There was no worry. He wasn’t going to stop the match. He wasn’t going to save me. 

But as our eyes met, the noise of the screaming crowd faded into a dull, distant hum. 

I stared at him, and the memory of last night hit me with sharp, physical clarity. I could feel the stifling heat of my bedroom. I could feel his massive, calloused hand resting flat against my bare stomach. I could smell the heavy scent of pine and arousal filling the space between us. 

“Taya fights for pride,” his low, rumbling voice echoed in my head. “She fights because she wants to prove she is better than you. She wants the crowd to cheer.” 

I looked at Taya. She was raising her arms to the crowd, soaking in their bloodthirsty cheers. She was performing. She was fighting a match. 

“You fight to survive,” Fenris’s voice continued, cold and absolute. “You fight because you want to live. That makes you more dangerous. Do not forget that.” 

I wasn’t fighting a match. I didn’t care about the rules. I didn’t care about a clean victory. I needed to survive. And survival meant completely dismantling the threat. 

*** 

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