“You’re tough,” she said. “But I’m tougher.”
That pissed me off.
I sprang to my feet, and I didn’t feel my injuries anymore. Niko’s words rang in my head.When you feel the pain and let it take over, it consumes you with fear and doubt.Niko said if I learned to separate pain from my conscious mind, I could do anything.
I sprinted toward the wall and ran up it two steps before pushing off and sailing through the air. She didn’t have time to process what was happening. I was already on top of her like one of those wrestlers my father used to watch on TV. I body-slammed her, and the knife spiraled out of reach. Blondie crumpled to the ground like a broken tree in a storm, and I was that storm.
Then I twisted around and pinned her head between my thighs, my ankles locked and knees bent like I’d done a hundred times before. As the circulation to her brain ceased, she did what they all had done—tried to pry my legs apart before beating her fists on them. She writhed and struggled to free herself, but I had a tight grip on that bun on her head.
She suddenly switched on her Thermal powers, and it felt like my legs were wrapped around a radiator.
Hold on just one more minute. You can do this. Don’t give up.I ignored the intense heat and only thought of survival. This was the end times, we were the last two on earth, and only one of us would walk out alive.
As her struggling decreased, so did the heat. Sweat beaded on my brow and across my chest. My thighs were on fire, and it was everything I could do not to scream.
She finally went limp. This was the part where they lost consciousness for a few brief moments, allowing me to finish the job. I released my hold, my inner thighs bright red from the knees up with two visible handprints on top. I rolled my opponent onto her back and straddled her.
“Light’s out,” I panted, placing my hands on hers.
Just as the first current of her energy entered my palms, my fangs wanted to punch out. I tasted the power in her light. What would her blood taste like? If she wasn’t evil like the others I’d killed, would that blood have the opposite effect, giving me a rush of power?
So many questions.
I reached deep down for her core light. Her eyelids fluttered before her eyes popped open when she realized I was about to steal her immortality. Somehow they could always tell when I went too deep—deeper than any juicer had ever gone.
She feebly shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “No,” she whispered.
Reminded that this was only a game, I severed the connection so fast that the energy snapped against my palms like a stretched rubber band.
I was breathing as if I’d run a mile, and it was the only sound in the room.
Blondie looked away, and with that, she surrendered. I slowly stood, blood dripping from my fingertips, my body blistered and bruised. There was no roar of applause. No referee to raise my arm as the winner. The white room was now freckled with blood spatters, and I saw myself in every direction. This was the real me. Not a scrapper trying to get by. Not a hustler. Not a daughter. Not even a killer.
I was a warrior.
The intercom clicked on. “We have a champion. The raven-haired fighter is the last standing. Congratulations to the winners. Please remain seated until we escort you out. Drinks are available for those waiting. Good evening.”
Unimpressed by the announcement, I made my way back to my door and lifted my duster off the ground.
“Well done,” Blondie said.
I turned to look at her. She had managed to sit up, but barely. Pablo hadn’t suggested that losers were fired, but I guessed that salaries relied heavily on wins. I didn’t know this girl or what her story was—why she needed the money so badly to put herself through this—but I inclined my head respectfully before the door opened and I left the room.
My insides still hurt from the kidney assault, enough that I’d probably pee blood for a week, even after healing. My right arm tingled as I walked dizzily up the stairs.
“I must commend you on your fighting techniques. Very impressive,” Pablo said, approaching with a towel in hand. “Sit down and let me have a look at you.”
I robotically sat in the chair, still feeling that woman’s energy coursing through my body.
Pablo took my hand, and before I knew it, he was giving me healing light. Blue light threaded between our palms as energy specific to healing tunneled through me and sealed up my wounds. The red marks on my thighs disappeared along with the blisters, bruises, and cuts.
Pablo wiped the damp towel over my shoulder and cleaned off the blood. “Next time, bring a suitable change of clothing. Casual. Like something you would wear in a restaurant. The fighters have a private bathroom, and you’ll be able to shower in there.” He lifted my arm and continued washing me. “It’s imperative that we don’t make mistakes. You can’t walk out of our gallery with blood on you. From now on, you’ll enter through the back door.”
“Am I hired?”
He looked at me with astonishment. “My dear, you won against our reigning champion.”
“Why would you pit me against the best?”
