: Chapter 43

Darkness and destruction are all I know. The two groups crash together, powers clashing, shouts cutting through the night. But when my eyes find his in the dim light, I don’t hesitate before my fist collides with his jaw.

Ace stumbles back, stunned by the force and fury I packed into the punch. I smile at the sight. I’ve been itching to do that all day. Every day.

The fight around us falls away. All I see is him and the red blurring my vision, the cause of both blood and rage morphing together.

I’m going to kill him.

My foot sinks into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs before I throw a jab at his nose, feeling it crack with sickening delight. My body is my only weapon. I have no knives, no bow, no swords to hide behind. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to do this with my bare hands.

I’m almost impressed by how twisted and talented the king is at putting on a show. He knew that we went into this Trial hoping to get revenge and instead told us to work together. So our enemies became our teammates. But now, the king is giving us and the people what they want.

We are tearing each other apart.

Ace has finally caught his breath, panting as he smirks up at me, hands resting on his knees. “Oh, you’ve just been waiting to do that, haven’t you?”

“Ever since that coach ride to the castle, actually,” I say, remembering how I disliked him even then, even before he attempted to kill me. Twice.

“Well, I’ve never really liked you much either,” he spits as blood streams from his nose and drips down to his chin. I move, aiming to send a kick cracking into his temple, but I’m suddenly shrouded in darkness. It’s as though he’s thrown a heavy blanket over my head, smothering the light around me.

Now I’m angry and annoyed.

But I know how this game works and wave my arms, taking a few steps forward. The illusion pulls apart, and like smoke, the darkness blows away on the wind. I blink, eyes adjusting as I try to find Ace in the commotion.

And then I’m choking.

The air is being cut off from my lungs, my windpipe being crushed. A hard, rough object is pressed against my throat, forcing me to gasp as I try to gulp down air. I claw at the thing pressing against my neck, the thing separating me from life and death.

I kick at Ace behind me, twisting and fighting to slip out of his hold. Rough bark is biting into my nails as I tear at it, trying to rid myself of its choking hold on me. I’m being strangled with a stick.

A stick.

My vision is spotting, the wound on my head throbbing, my lungs screaming for air.

No. Not today. Death can claim me when it finds a less pathetic way to end my existence.

I still my frantic hands and stop struggling, willing myself to slump, to sag, to stop looking like I’m alive and seething with anger. I let my knees buckle, the branch sliding from my neck as I crumble to the ground.

“Never forget that your wit is a weapon to be wielded if only your mind is as sharp as your blade.”

My father’s words echo in my head, reminding me that not all battles are won with brawn. So I’ll win this one with brains.

My limbs are a tangled mess in the dirt, and my head has landed painfully on a jagged rock. But I can breathe again. Barely. I force myself to take shallow breaths, willing my attacker to step closer and finish the job.

Boots crunch over loose rocks before a body crouches over my limp one. A deep, labored sigh washes over me and the faintest brush of fingers over my brow nearly makes me flinch.

“Such a shame that the pretty ones are always bitches.” Ace tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, almost gently. It makes me sick. “Such a shame. Such a waste.”

His hand begins to pull back and I know I need to act. My eyes fly open and his do the same as he looks at me, shocked. He’s crouched over my body, one of his hands caught in my own, and the other clutching a rock only slightly smaller than the size of my head.

He was going to bash my skull in.

In one quick movement, I twist his arm at an odd angle, hearing the bone snap and a scream tear from his throat. I lift my legs and push my feet against his chest, throwing him sideways with a powerful push. He’s thrown onto his back beside me, the rock tumbling from his hand.

I’m on top of him within the next beat of my hammering heart.

My knees are pressing his arms to the ground, letting my full weight settle on his chest. I bring my hand down on his wrist, pressing on the broken bone now jutting against his skin. I never thought a scream could bring me so much joy.

“Such a shame I don’t have my knife to carve out your black heart.” I’m smiling, relishing the pure hatred flaring in his eyes, knowing he must see the same reflected in my own gaze. “Such a shame.”

When did I become this vicious?

Something catches my eye and my attention darts to the wispy figures now encircling us.

It’s me.

Dozens of sickly, pale Paedyns. They’re stumbling closer, arms outstretched and reaching for me. They’re pushing towards me as they plead for help, plead to be put out of their misery.

I stare at them, and they stare at me.

And then I smile, sad and slow.

“I’m not afraid of myself anymore,” I whisper.

That girl—that haunted, weak girl begging for help, for love—is me. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I’m still haunted, maybe even still hoping for love, but I am no longer weak because of it.

And when my gaze slides back to Ace, I’m no longer smiling. “You think you can use myself against me? Again?” My laugh is humorless. “Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice—well, you won’t get a chance to do that, now will you?” I cock my head, peering down at his face now twisted in pain.

I grab the rock that was intended for my skull and raise it above his instead. “Goodbye, Ace,” I say breathlessly, wondering if I should be feeling any remorse for this boy.

Something shifts in my peripheral.

The illusions are gone now, drifting away as Ace weakens from pain beneath me, allowing me to dare a glance at the figure close by.

He is covered in blood, most of which likely doesn’t even belong to him. Our eyes meet, and the sound of the fight around me that was once so deafening begins to dull. The connection is electric, empowering even, as he watches me but does nothing to stand in my way. Does nothing to try and convince me not to take a life. Does nothing because he knows I can handle myself.

Does nothing because Kai would do no differently.

The boy beneath me tried to kill his brother, tried to get Kai to do it for him. And as I stare into the gray eyes of the prince, the future Enforcer, the deliverer of death, I know that he has been patiently waiting to kill him. Patiently waiting for revenge.

And yet, he is simply standing there, dripping with blood, and doing nothing to stop me from ripping his revenge away from him.

This is not my life to take.

“I would kill you…” My voice is stern and strong, loud enough for Kai to hear. I see Ace’s eyes light up with the assumption that I’m too weak to go through with ending his life. How very wrong he is. “But you are not mine to kill,” I finish, watching as his eyes darken, hatred replacing hope.

My gaze finds Kai’s again, his eyes bright against in the moonlight and smoldering like smoke from a fire. A muscle ticks in his jaw, his hands twitch at his sides. I give him a single, slow nod.

And then he is striding towards us, shadows clinging to his silhouette.

I barely have time to get off Ace before Kai is hoisting him to his feet with powerful arms. “You’re lucky I don’t have the time or patience to rip you limb from limb at the moment.”

Then Kai’s eyes flick to me, flick over me. The future Enforcer is resisting his urge for revenge and instead scanning my body for injuries. The thought has me swallowing the lump in my throat as his gaze lingers on the gash still gushing on my head before slowly sliding to my neck which is likely already bruising. Then his eyes dart to something far behind me.

The flag.

No one has made it there yet, too busy fighting and focused on revenge to break away. When I look back at Kai, his eyes are already trained on me. “Go,” he murmurs the word, nodding towards the flag that will bring me victory. “Win this damn thing, Gray.”

I blink at him, but his attention is already back on the task in front of him. So I turn towards the flag. My boots scrape against the rocks beneath my feet as I stride towards that seemingly insignificant piece of cloth.

Screams join the shouts and cries of the fight, and I don’t need to turn around to know that Kai has begun his work on Ace. I ignore it, my focus solely on the flag.

And then I’m suddenly standing beneath it, looking up at my prize. Looking up at my victory.

And no one stops me as I rip off the flag.