By guards.
I think one of the mentors who was supervising the fight spoke earlier, but I couldn’t hear anything he said when I was imprisoned against Yulian.
No. I couldn’t hear anything when he was whispering in my ear.
I glare at the bastard whom I suspect was dropped on his head when he was an infant. We’re both panting as the mentor, a serious guy with thick-framed glasses, says, “Both of you will be punished for not ending the fight when I requested, as well as intending permanent or semi-permanent bodily harm.”
Fuck.
Ididplan to bash his head in.
I shouldn’t have had that thought during a mere sparring session.
“You never specified that!” Yulian protests.
“I did before the start of the match.” The man sighs. “It helps if you actually listen to instructions.”
“But that’s a waste of time!”
I drag my gaze to Yulian as he fights with the mentor, my temples throbbing, my fists clenching at either side of me.
The motherfucker made me break the rules.Me.
I actually deviated from a code of conduct because I wanted to see his brains spill on the ground.
For a minute, I forgot about the need to get along with the Chicago mafia that my parents drilled into me and that I’m here to represent them and our organization.
For the duration of the fight, I was consumed by the one thing I was meant to control and erase.
Bloodlust.
And it was because of this degenerate motherfucker?—
He stops grumbling at the mentor and glides his freaky eyes toward me. Earth and sky, that’s what they look like. Elements of nature that brighten at the same time.
He says nothing, just holds my gaze as he wipes the blood off the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
And I stare back, square into his bruised face.
He looks like shit, his lip busted, the black eye looking terrifying around his blue iris, and his chest is full of bruises.
I’m proud of my handiwork—of thrashing him—but I can also feel throbbing at my lip, my chest, and my cheek. We did a number on each other, it seems.
The silence stretches for a disconcerting beat in the midst of the chatter from the others.
The mentor says something about punishing us by having us gather wood together.
Alone.
Not even the guards are allowed to accompany us.
Just the thought of spending alone time with this bastard makes my skin prickle.
Yulian is the one who gets punished, not me. Whether for causing trouble or smoking or being caught watching porn on the big screen that’s reserved for events.
And I’m pretty sure he made one of the guards tattoo some stupid doodle he made in the dirt on him the other day.
He’s a walking hazard pumped full of bad habits.
