Images of Inessa, full with child, played in my mind, pushing my determination to the highest possible level. By the look on Valentin and Zaal’s faces, I knew they were imagining the same.
The sound of a whistle cut through to our group, and Luka turned on his heel. He brought his hands down to his sides and looked back to say, “I’ll see you in the pit.” Luka ran forward toward the tunnel, his back muscles bunching as he entered the arena, spoiling for the fight. A second whistle blew, and Zaal followed suit, his long dark hair resting on his back. Valentin moved beside me and said, “When he’s dead, you get my sister. Don’t wait for the rest of us, just get her out.” I nodded just as the third whistle blew and the scarred male sprinted to the pit. I heard the crowd roar louder when he entered.
The living monster of their nightmares.
I walked to the mouth of the tunnel and stared at the light coming from the pit beyond. I had traveled this tunnel many times before, thousands of males had fallen at my feet in this sand. But as I heard the crowd screaming for blood … when I caught sight of the three champions circling the ring … I knew this was different.
This would be the last time my feet pounded on the sand-covered stone. It would be the last time my blood spilled on this sand.
This was the end, but …
… It could also be a beginning.
As the fourth whistle blew, my feet led me forth. And with every crunch of sand under my feet, I recited two names: “Inessa, Ilya. Inessa, Ilya. Inessa, Ilya.” As I trudged toward the open mouth of the tunnel, playing the part of a heavily drugged male, my voice built in volume. As I broke through into the light, focused on the pit, I screamed out, “INESSA!” as Zaal ran my way, slicing across my stomach with his sai. Slowly lifting my blade, I swung back. The crowd roared when I missed. I purposely missed. My gaze drifted to Luka and Valentin, who were going through the motions of a fight.
A fist smacked across my lip. When I spun, Zaal had struck. Using the blunt handle of my blade, I struck him, too. Minutes and minutes passed; we hit and fought. Blood spilled from mouths and noses, surface wounds. But no one had fallen.
We were giving the crowd a fight, whipping them into a frenzy.
Luka ducked under my arm, and as he did, he shouted, “Ready!”
My heart slammed into a new beat, one that was about to get its kill. I faced Valentin, slicing a cut on his arm with my blade. Then just as Valentin moved to strike back, Luka threw back his head and roared out a deafening bellow.
In one practiced move, the four of us closed in, shifting to face the bloodthirsty crowd. The people watching glanced to one another, questioning what was happening. As I raised my blades, Luka, Zaal, and Valentin raised their weapons, too. I then searched for one male only.
Master.
Catching his confused gaze, I smiled, blood from my lips rolling down my chin. Master saw my smile, but before he could signal for his precious guards to come to his aid, the exit doors all opened. The footsteps of the fighters sounded like a stampede as they rushed through the doors, war cries screamed from their throats.The crowd began to move, scurrying like the scared rats they were. But the fighters were fueled with rage, minds clear after God knows how long.
They clearly felt the need to kill.
Master’s guards charged at the fighters, but the rebel Wraiths turned on them first. The sound of machine guns joined the cacophony of terrified screams and victorious shouts. Luka raised his fist into the air as guards charged our way. When he ordered the attack, the four of us charged forward, weapons held high, rage in our hearts. My vision clouded with red as I swung. My blades cut through flesh and bone. One by one, I cut through the guards. The screams and the tinny scent of blood grew strong with every passing second. When I glanced up at the stands, some of the crowd had tried to fight back. The warriors cut them down. Monsters preying on the weak.
Finishing off the final guard in my path, I then looked up to Master’s seat. Two guards, including the head guard, shielded him from view.
My blood scalded my veins, flooding every muscle. My legs began to move with greater strength. I pushed my muscles to the very edge as I leapt into the stands. I jumped up the seats, slaying anyone in my path. The high guard didn’t see me coming until it was too late. He fired his gun, but the bullet only grazed my arm. His face paled as my blade pierced his heart. I kicked his dying body to the ground, his lifeless limbs rolling down the stairs by my side. The other guard ran, his loyalty to Master forgotten at the sight of my unleashed wrath. But before he could escape, I sliced the tip of my blades across his hamstrings. He fell to the floor. Making sure Master watched, I slit his guard’s throat, kicking his back until he smashed his face on the floor.
Then I turned. I turned, my torso blanketed with the blood of the many I had already killed. When I locked gazes with Master, I smiled. His face paled and he tried to search for a way out. I shook my head, telling him silently that there was nowhere to go.
Reaching forward, I gripped the collar of his jacket and wrenched him close. A terrified cry left his throat as I did, then I spat in his face. I dragged him down the stairs, pulling him down until we reached the pit. My heart thudded with excitement when I heard his perfectly polished shoes crunch on the bloodstained sand of the pit. Around me, the volume of the riot quieted.
Reaching the center of the pit, I threw Master to the ground. I took hold of his hair and wrenched him up until he was on his knees. I looked up, and my breath caught when I saw that every other fighter in the pit was looking my way. The crowd that had not yet met their death watched with wide eyes as I circled Master.
Luka, Valentin, and Zaal moved closer to me. Their eyes were bright with their recent kills. Blood covered us all. We looked wild and insane.
We looked like Blood Pit warriors.
The fighters around us closed in, until a large circle kept Master trapped. I watched as he raised his head and met the eyes of every fighter. Then I saw his face drain of blood even more when he clicked his fingers. That click would once have ordered his males to obey.
As they stared at their former master with circled lips and clenched hands, I could see the realization sink in.
“They are no longer your slaves,” I informed him, my voice rough from the fight.
Master blinked and I stepped back, holding out my hand to Luka, Zaal, and Valentin. Master watched every move I made.
“Master,” I said dryly, “it seems your tournament has been taken over. You cannot command loyalty. Loyalty is earned.”