The Monster Beneath Your Bed. My grandmother’s nephew. Blood of the Hollow Coast.
People say he doesn't lose. Others say he doesn’tletyou lose; he ends the fight before it’s even begun.
This is Santino's oldest brother. The brothers in this family have made a name for themselves. A fear which follows them too.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, and from my eyes. “She didn't jump, did she?”
“No, she’s safe with your brothers. You’re alive,” he says, closing the door behind him with a steel thud. “Shame. I thought I’d get to bury you and save myself the trouble.”
I smirk. It hurts. “Don’t get sentimental on me.”
He tosses a bottle of water toward me. I miss it.
“My grandfather sent you?” I ask.
“No.” He cracks his neck. “I volunteered.” He watches me for a moment, then speaks again. “You think you’re ready to fight the Irish?” he asks, stepping into the middle of the fire room. “Because from what I hear, they’ve already taken pieces out of you. Poison. Blade. Psychological warfare.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No. You’ll be dead. Unless we fix you.”
He crouches in front of me. His presence alone forces me to sit straighter.
“Well, I’m trying not to die,” I joke, which gets a chuckle from him.
He watches me as I lean on the wall trying not to fall, and he smiles. “I’ll train you,” he says, voice low and carved from stone. “If you live through this.”
I stare at him for a moment, wondering what new things he could teach me. Nico is a legend at this school, won the ring when he was here, which he still wears today on his thumb. I know his trials were different from mine, but the man won every single one, and no one got close to him.
Before I can say anything, he steps forward, and the first punch lands before I can blink. The sound of bone-on-bone ricochets off the walls.
I stagger, and he’s on me again. Fist to jaw. Elbow to ribs. Sweep to my knees. Fuck, he can move. I hit the floor hard enough to see stars.
“What the fuck?—”
“You’re fighting like you want to be a martyr,” he says, circling me like a lion. “You want to die for that girl? Or you want to kill for her?” Now he's shouting at me.
I snarl. I still don't have the energy to fight. I’m still charging toward him, but he dodges me like I’m a child swinging blind in the dark. I land one punch to his stomach, and he doesn't flinch, that’s how weak I am, because I know my punch can normally knock the air out of him. Instead, he drives his forearm into my chest and slams me back into the wall.
Nico lives up to his name, the monster to fear.
“You’re going to war for a girl,” he growls. “Then fight like it.”
I lurch up, fury blooming like wildfire in my gut.
Aoife’s face flickers again behind my eyes. That fucking engagement contract. The wordsTermination Planin gold ink. That poison. Her bloodline.
My fist connects with Nico’s chin.
He steps back and smiles. “That’s better.”
This man will continue this until I have nothing left in me, and still, he won’t stop, but if I’m going to learn anything new it’s from him.
“Again,” he says, as I choke down bile. “Because the Irish won’t stop. They’ll take her if they can’t break you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit.
“Then show me I’m wrong,” he roars.
