“It’s okay, Sophia.”
I close my eyes and relive that moment she vanished into thin air like a poltergeist invading my personal space to haunt me. One minute she was there, the next…
The cage doors open.
Don’t give up, Mr. Niklaus.
Maybe I can hold on a little longer.
I pick myself up, stretch with a long yawn, and follow Jack and Sophia from the cages and down the hall.
64. A Promise Made
Niklaus
One Year Later
The inmate who bleeds outat my feet puts a smile on my face.
My spear is stuck in his cheek. The uneven, pointy tip of my weapon cracked into a few teeth before it sank into the oversized tongue in his mouth. I felt the meat split on impact, and his eyes widened before they went slack.
A fountain of blood is a ferocious torrent down his chin, forming a small lake at my feet.
That harrowing, beefy body jerks on the stage as I twist the spear, no doubt hitting a vein.
The two faces I do not want to see in the crowd are not there, and I grin wider.
This inmate was sentenced to life in prison for stealing the animals from the Meat Carnivals. I was hoping it was for a noble cause. But I was wrong. The reasons are far more disturbing and inhumane to repeat.
“Demechnef búizarx!” his brother roars, jumping onto the stage without permission from the Ringmaster.
The square jaw and boxed head plummet toward me like a crazed bull. He’s twice my size, but sluggish and drunk with his rageful attack.
I don’t think any of this would have worked without big brother’s invasion of the fight night for revenge. I knew I could drag the fight with Nox out long enough… Butthisis what’s really going to buy time. This stupid, sweaty, malignant narcissist motherfucker.
I play with him for a little while.
His fury makes him clumsy and uncoordinated. He flings random weapons at me from the rack. Charges me with a sword far too small for a man of his size. I practically float away from each squawk and powerful swing of his arm.
It’s too easy.
His naturally pale complexion is cherry-red. And he fights with all his strength to avenge his brother. But not once can he land a hit. No blood is drawn.
I simply move out of his way, using the stage as a designated platform to make him dizzy and spent from running in circles to get me.
I count the seconds carefully.
Enough time has passed. Just in time, too. The Ringmaster fidgets, clearly getting agitated that no one is being harmed.
The brother releases a hysterical battle cry, fumbling over his own feet and raising that skinny sword to attack again.
All it takes is precision. I throw the spear, and it lodges directly into his square head. The skull cracks. Metal pierces the meat of his brain. And that three-hundred-pound man is nailed to the ground without so much as a whimper.
The crowd chucks food and trash. Cheering and chanting.
The small group of men who followed the brothers raid the stage. Swarming the sentinels that attempt to corral them. And I slip into the crowd of inmates, getting lost in the shadows, and among the chaos—I disappear from the spotlight.
A trap door under the stage leads to the sewage lines.
