A huge, meaty hand grabs me by the throat, and then another pair of arms comes from behind to wrap around my front, trapping me in place.
It’s Jonah, I realize as I fight for air. That bastard from this morning. The one who wanted to kill Izabel.
That asshole was probably waiting up here, hoping and praying he’d have a chance to get his revenge.
“Gutter slut,” Jonah growls, his hand tightening on my throat, and I see spots of white. “You’re just a nasty common whore.”
My vision starts to dim around the edges. Use it, Igor’s voice says in my head, and I slump against the man behind me, faking defeat. Just like in the ring.
Jonah’s not so easily fooled. His hand is still a vise on my throat, but the man behind me loosens his grip, just enough to give me room to move again. I slam an elbow back into his gut, and his grunt of pain distracts Jonah enough that I can rip myself from his grasp, slamming my head backward, hearing the satisfying crunch of a nose breaking.
The only time today it’s notmynose breaking, I think wryly, already moving again, sinking into one of Igor’s combinations, one he designed specially for the fights where I take on two opponents at once.
My limbs are a blur of movement, reserves of energy coming from somewhere I didn’t know I had. I revel in the satisfying crunch of the metal spikes on my feet into someone’s leg, dancing back.
A slash of pain—I wasn’t far back enough. Of course, because it’s not just street knives I’m facing here—someone’s wielding their ice pick as a weapon against me.
The pain makes me see red, and after that, the fight moves fast. My second attacker takes off after being on the receiving end of my fist a few more times, and I let him go.
Jonah comes at me with the ice pick again but I’m ready for him this time, dancing back and to his left, sweeping his feet out from under him and stomping on his hand, forcing him to drop the pick. He swivels around and looks like he’s about to come at me again, and I deliver one of my favorite training combinations, feinting twice and then spinning to land a brutal roundhouse kick.
He stumbles backwards just as the storm picks up again, and the snow swallows him.
My blood pounds in my ears as I stare at the place where he disappeared. Is he gone? Did he run?
Did he fall?
Did I kill him?
I don’t know if I should be ashamed that I hope the answer is yes.
Breathing hard, I struggle to hold on to the adrenaline rush that was keeping me moving. Keeping me alive.
Izabel stumbles out of the fog and snow, Venna just behind her. Venna’s coat is ripped at the shoulder, and a wound there is weeping blood. She leans on Izabel.
She doesn’t look good.
“Are we close?” I say under my breath to Izabel, and we both look at each other silently, understanding. Venna’s not going to be able to climb much longer, not with one arm basically out of commission.
“We’d better be,” Izabel says grimly, and leads the way into the swirl of gray. “Come on.”
We’ve made it this far. I may not want to bond, but I’m not about to let Izabel and Venna fail now.
CHAPTER TEN
Venna almost doesn’t make it up the last stretch. It’s a black sheet of slick ice, at times so steep that it’s concave. My feet dangle in total open air as I reach for the next grip. I’m convinced that every inch I gain will be my last.
Venna climbs for a while on her wounded shoulder, but she’s falling behind us, favoring the unwounded arm more and more. I barely need the yank on my tether rope as a signal from Izabel; we both sense that she’s flagging and pause on our climb, clinging to the sheer wall, waiting painful minutes for Venna to reach us.
Adjusting the lengths of our rope and re-knotting them around our harnesses, Izabel and I tether ourselves to Venna’s with equal slack between us, so that we can climb in tandem, pulling her up with us as she uses her feet and a single pick to brace herself.
We haul her up the final stretch by sheer strength of will.
When we reach the actual summit, I’m so exhausted that I briefly consider laying down and letting the direwolves eat me as a snack.
At least it would be fast.
We all stumble forward, putting distance between ourselves and the nightmarish drop behind us. Venna and Izabel fall to their knees, arms around each other, faces creased with exhaustion and relief.
