The second he walks from the room and locks the cell door behind him, there’s a flurry of activity as everyone rushes to grab one of the weapons. The sound of chains colliding is only superseded by the shouts of profanity.
I keep my focus on the clusterfuck in the middle of the floor while slowly getting to my feet. Adrenaline unfurls inside me, familiar and potent, sweeping through my limbs and preparing me for battle.
I don’t need a blade to kill someone.
A shout of pain echoes in the space as Eric Gage slashes someone with his newly acquired weapon.
Ryan Emerson clutches his stomach, pain etched into his features, a red stain creeping along the expensive material of his shirt. The metallic scent of blood mixes with the smell of dirt as it floats in the air.
“Is that all you’ve got, Eric?” Ryan spits on the ground. “Looks like you’ve spending more time getting high than actuallylearning to fight. It’s fucked with your brain cells, and you didn’t have many to start with.”
“I’ll show you fucked up.” Eric smirks, but the flash of anger in his eyes undermines his taunt. “And when I’m done, I’ll show your girlfriend too.”
Eric slashes at Ryan in a downward arc, but he dodges the attack easily, using Eric’s momentum to plant a heel behind his knee. Eric falters. He staggers back, nearly avoiding Ryan’s follow-up strike. Even wounded, the heir to the Emerson fortune is a formidable challenger.
From the far end of the cell, I track their movements as well as those around me. The attention of everyone present is centered on the fight. I’m sure most of them hope Ryan will take Eric’s life and save them the risk of dying or the responsibility of having to kill someone.
At least for today.
The time will come for all of them.
When being inducted into an assassin’s guild, murder is par for the course. Our fathers and uncles have all undergone this rite of passage, but with it being a secret society, its operations must remain hidden. That didn’t stop my father from preparing me every day of my life. This isn’t my first time in a cell.
Or being ordered to kill someone.
Out of everyone, Eric has always been the most volatile. Every child born to the founding families attended the same prestigious schools and elite social events, so his behavior isn’t shocking to me. In fact, there are few things in my life that have ever surprised me.
The most memorable one is a girl with green eyes, honey-colored hair, and a knife in her hand. The last time someone pulled a weapon on me, it was her. I smile briefly at the image.
I’m quick to dismiss thoughts of Delilah. It’s not an easy task, but with the threat of death a few feet away, my brain complies.For once. She’s been on my mind since the moment I first saw her.
Eric rights himself, chest heaving and his blonde hair falling across his forehead. Even from across the room, I’m able to pinpoint the exact moment he calculates the odds of winning this fight with Ryan. There’s an infinitesimal widening of his eyes that gives him away.
“At least Ihavea warm pussy waiting for me,” Ryan says with a grin. He laughs harshly, though sweat dots his forehead and darkens the roots of his hair. “The only thing waiting for you is a syringe. Hard to fuck, but not impossible I guess.”
Hushed laughter floats into the air, immediately stifled by coughs filled with unease.
A flush crawls up the sides of Eric’s neck, his rage palpable. For a second, my mask of indifference slips at the idea of Eric being stupid enough to continue the fight with Ryan when he’s clearly outmatched. However, Eric’s arrogance finally comes to terms with what his instincts know to be true: he won’t win.
“Fuck off,” he snarls. “My father is one of three council members, and I’ll take his place someday. My drug empire brings in more money and power than yours can ever dream of. You’ll need that girlfriend of yours to suck your dick hard enough to make you forget that reality.”
Eric whirls around, chains clinking, his hungry gaze scanning the room for another opponent. Correction: a victim.
My muscles tighten the second his attention lands on the newcomer, but I maintain my expression of boredom. No one knows about my orders, not even my target.
Benjamin McKenzie remains hunched in the corner, his eyes darting back and forth until they settle on Eric. Alarm flickers over his countenance and he takes up a defensive stance, balling his fists. Despite his ability to fight, it won’t be enough. Even if he had one of the knives, his chances would be slim.
Eric’s mouth tilts in a brutal smile as he makes his way toward the newcomer. “Where the fuck did you come from, pretty boy?” He stops a few feet from Benjamin, his gaze scrutinizing and critical. “You’re not one of us, so how’d you get here?”
Benjamin remains silent. With the seconds ticking away, and his death imminent without my interference, I shift my gaze to Declan Kent. The heir to the medical dynasty catches my eye and lifts a brow in question. I jerk my chin at the knife in his hand.
It’s a lot to ask for in this situation. If there was ever a time to test the trust between Declan and me, it’s now. The only other person who carries a weapon is Simon Paine, and my chances of getting it from him without sustaining an injury are dicey at best.
Declan gives me a pointed look, and I return it, an understanding passing between us. I’ve never considered him a friend, but after today, I will. And I’ll owe him.
He hands me the knife, his forehead wrinkled with resignation. I take it from him and hold the weapon by the tip of the blade. The weight of it is lighter than I’m used to wielding, and I adjust my grip accordingly.
“Any last words?” Eric lifts his arm, the firelight from the torch reflecting off the steel, gleaming menacingly. At Benjamin’s continued silence, Eric rolls his eyes. “You can refuse to talk, but you won’t be able to stop yourself from screaming.”
