Standing on opposite sides of the war, would they be able to kill each other?
Slashing rapidly, Luke tried to back him into a corner, but he watched for an opening and knocked one of Luke's arms away. Caught the man's other knife with his own, leaving his brother's center wide open. He rammed his knee into the other man's gut.
Luke grunted, body curling. But he fought through it, unstoppable, swinging for Zayne in the midst of reeling from the hit.
Damn it, he was fast.
And Zayne hadn't had time to check on Ashantae and the other two soldiers. He couldn't take his eyes off his brother for a second.
Every move was deadly. Every second dangerous.
What if Zayne couldn't hold him off without hurting him badly? Or worse?
He could hear his nieces playing. Hear their giggles while they yelled for Daddy to join them. Saw Luke holding Ainsley as a baby, introducing her to her big sister.
Those girls needed their father. They'd been through enough already.
Luke's boot shoved Zayne back a step. Rather than fight to keep his ground, he let the momentum open space between them, using the distance to regroup.
His brother lunged, and Zayne stayed steady, shifting his weight to his right foot rather than dodging. Watching closely.
Luke stabbed for Zayne's midsection, but he'd seen the way his body twisted, detected the threat. Sliding sideways, he narrowly avoided the strike and poised himself for a rapid jab into his brother's gut.
This one would hit. A three-inch blade into Luke's stomach.
A serious, potentially fatal wound.
Mom and Andi flashed in his mind, laughing with Luke.
No.
Couldn't.
The millisecond hesitation left Zayne in a vulnerable position. Luke's first attack had only been a decoy. His other blade hooked behind Zayne's back, stabbing for his kidney.
He threw himself into his brother, twisting to avoid the attack. Arching his back.
Almost.
Almost.
So close to clearing the danger.
Sharp steel pierced his flesh at a severe angle, driving sideways beneath skin and muscle, and embedded up to the hilt.
Pain stole his breath from his lungs. He gasped, weight falling against his brother, shifting the knife in his back with agonizing stabs of pain.
They fell against the wall together, and his brother ripped his knife free. The devastating cut of the blade against his torn insides immobilized him while Luke reared back for another stab.
Couldn't slow down.
Consumed by shock and pain, Zayne held in his scream and jammed his knife through his brother's forearm. The tip poked out the other side.
Luke's knife clattered to the ground, saving Zayne from a killing blow.
Shifting his weight, Zayne kept his brother plastered against the wall, even with how it strained his back. And Luke gripped his shoulder, despite the fact that his injured arm must have throbbed horribly. They both took in ragged breaths.
Hot blood rushed down Zayne's back. And red bubbled around the blade still lodged in Luke's arm.
