I gritted my teeth. “Yeah.” I was fine. Only pissed.
“Did you fuck him for that uniform? Or did you service his Dreads like you serviced the king and earned it that way, Hell-whore?”
She picked the wrong time to taunt me.
“You would know.” I lifted my chin. Something moved in the shadowed hall behind the trio, hiding in the doorway of the changing rooms. I scrutinized it for a split second before giving my full attention to the queen bitch. “Wouldn’t you, Moira?”
Oliver squeezed my arm in warning, but I ignored him.
“You must’ve given him great head for a second-rate whore like you to earn the Tormentors position. It’s no wonder he turned to me.”
I still didn’t know what giving head meant, but I could only guess it was sexual.
Her face pinched into an ugly mask. “Cyrus! Bind them.”
Vines shot from the tiled floor and walls, wrapping around our wrists and ankles. A few weeks ago, I would’ve started hyperventilating. Now, I raised a brow, enjoying the way they cut into my skin.
I tilted my head and smiled, loving how it made Moira’s face flush a cherry red. “Hit a nerve? Ronen not letting you in his bed anymore?” I pouted in mock sympathy.
“Lucy, stop,” Oliver discreetly whispered through his teeth.
A dagger from Moira’s belt came beelining for my head. I dodged it, laughing as it bounced off the tiled wall and dropped near my feet.
“But I was just getting started. The bitch needs to know who she’s speaking to,” I taunted.
If only I could tell her. Better yet,show her.
The dagger on the floor rose, hovering near my stomach. Moira shook as severely as her dagger did, showing her rage. But she couldn’t stab me—not unless she wanted to risk the wrath of Ronen or his Dreads. We weren’t to harm our squadmates. Lightly torture, fine. But if I came out of this bathroom with a stab wound after she gave such a show to half the warriors in the arena, it’d be her ass, not mine. If she wanted to punish us, she’d have to do it the same way as always.
I saw her internal battle. She wouldn’t risk it. Not if her relationship with Ronen was already rocky. And by the way she reacted, it was. I smirked and opened my mouth to rub salt in her wounds.
Oliver shot me a severe glance. “Don’t.”
“It’s okay, Oliver. She should know I’ve replaced her. He’s no longer hers.” Oddly enough, I liked that thought. “Poor thing.”
“Theon!” she shrieked. “Shut her up! And suffocate them.”
I winced. Heavenly Hell, she almost blew out my eardrums.
Oliver groaned, dropping his head. Most likely thinking I was insane. But he should’ve learned by now that I’d never let anything happen to him. He also should’ve been more observant.
Theon grinned, raising his hands to form head-sized water spheres, oblivious to the water coalescing behind him. He taunted us, wanting to stoke our fear.
But it was difficult to be scared when three water dragons reared up behind their backs. They were expertly crafted, from the frills along their faces to their glistening teeth and scaled bodies. They almost looked real, if not for their transparent, wavering forms.
I rested my head against the tile, unconcerned and smug.
Theon’s nostrils flared, and he chucked his spheres at us. Before they could so much as move a foot, the dragons attacked. One cleaved through the air, swallowing Theon’s water, and the other two swallowed Theon and Cyrus.
Before Moira could overcome her shock, the third dragon reared up tall, opened its maw, and devoured her. The three of them dropped to their knees, suffocating.
Cyrus’s vines released us, and we stepped away from the wall.
“Doesn’t feel too good, does it, Theon?” I mocked.
Theon bared his teeth, his face as red and angry as Moira’s. Both of them glared at me while Cyrus desperately clawed at his face, more concerned with fighting the water than plotting revenge like the other two.
There would be hell to pay later. No doubt about that. But I didn’t care. We were done being their punching bags. If they wanted a fight, we’d give them a fight.
