And it hadn’t even been a real fight.
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like when he completely let loose and gave it his all.
Part of me wanted to fight him in one of these events, one day, just so I could really test myself. For now, though, I had more pressing matters to worry about.
Scanning the fighters, it was impossible for me to tell if any of them were Brandon. He had no real standout features; he wasn’t tall and broad-shouldered like Rafe and Jordan, and had no particularly interesting facial features and an eye color that was instantly forgettable.
I might not even know as I fought my opponent if it was him, and that made this very difficult. I wanted to kill Brandon, legitimately wipe him from the face of the Earth, but I couldn't do that to someone else.
I had to be sure before I made any serious moves.
There were twenty of us behind the three fight rings. I caught sight of Rafe because, unlike Brandon, his height alone had him standing out.
I didn’t go near him, though. I knew better than to out him, and since we were often seen together in real life, it was best that I didn’t act familiar with any of my friends.
The announcer called up the first six fighters.
“Dragon versus Blades in ring one,” came the mechanical voice. “Frost Bite and Broken Glass in ring two. And Justice versus Violence in ring three.”
I didn’t startle at my name. Rafe had whispered to me before I’d stepped into this area that I would be fighting at least twice tonight so I needed to pace myself.
It was almost nice, a warning of sorts, but I didn’t need it.
Two fights was nothing.
I moved toward the ring that had the three marked on the middle of the bouncy floor and launched myself up and over the fence that separated the fighters from the audience. It felt like there were a lot of people crowding close to this area, and I forced myself not to run my hands over my braid to check if it was still in place, a nervous gesture I’d spent years retraining myself to not do. My hair was a sore point for me, though, with my sensei harping daily about how I was giving someone ammunition to use against me. He’d suggested I shave it close to my head for a true monk-like existence.
I’d declined, vain bitch that I was.
Justice chose that moment to dive over the side barrier, perfectly rolling across the floor to come up right in my face. The fighter was a good six inches taller than me but seemed slender, like he had long-distance running muscles.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t strong, and he’d likely hold more endurance than most of the bulkier fighters. I wouldn’t underestimate him.
No one that fought here was going to be an easy opponent.
Our fight commentator was making the usual intro bit, but I wasn’t listening. I’d zoned him out completely because nothing he could say would help me win. Nope, I was laser-focused on my opponent. Justice.
He held himself well, loose and ready, showing his training. I took all the time I could, slowly drawing my blade while scanning him for weaknesses.
“Tanto, right?” Justice commented, nodding to my blade. I was actually kind of surprised he knew what that was. He was wrong; my baby was actually a wakizashi with a twelve inch blade, but he was close. “You know how to use that, little girl?”
Oh, that was a shame. Just when I’d gained the slightest bit of respect for my opponent, he went and ruined it with some misogynistic bullshit.
“Guess you’re about to find out,” I murmured, giving a small shrug. I didn’t move around like lots of fighters did to warm up or cover nervous jitters. I found that the less I moved around, the more it unnerved people. Going against the norm always seemed to have that effect… even outside the fight rings.
Justice smirked as he reached out to one of his friends and took a slightly longer blade from him. It was nothing special. Just a knife. A long, sharp knife, but that was it. Based on the dull gleam off of it, it didn’t even look to be high quality.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Rafe’s distinctive frame hovering near the edge of my fight ring. Two steps to his left… yep, there was Jordan. I’d know those eyes freaking anywhere.
Justice lunged at me, swiping with his big-ass knife. My reaction time was quick, but I was still only human. He’d caught me off-guard and nicked the flesh of my upper arm, drawing blood.
“Motherfucker,” I cursed, spinning out of the way and mentally berating myself. Stupid-ass hormones had just nearly gotten me killed. Maybe it was a bad idea to fight with those two watching me.
“Pay attention, sweetheart,” Justice mocked, twirling his weapon around in a showy, arrogant move. “This is supposed to be a warm-up for my next fight. So don’t make it too easy, yeah?”
Anger burned through my veins, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let that emotion rule me. Our fight had begun, and in this place there was no room for any emotions. At all. Internally I was a cool, calm void.
A deep breath filled my lungs, and as I exhaled, I moved.
