Page 10 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

Slightly off balance, he used his stance to his advantage, catching my arm and yanking me forward so my momentum pulled me off my feet.

Whipping his arm around mine like a snake, he locked his hand at my shoulder which kept my arm extended and virtually useless—any movement I made would shift his bodyweight and dislocate my shoulder.

Thought and strategy flickered in my head, little more than instinct.

His balance was off.

The foot of the bed was behind him.

Bren on its other side in a defensive stance, looking for an opening.

Can’t let her get tangled in this.

With every ounce of power I possessed, I used his grip on my arm to keep him hovering, halfway to the floor, and brought my knee up to his chest, trying to crack a rib, then again, going for his groin, but he twisted at the last second so I caught his belly, winding him.

His eyes went wide as he staggered, but then narrowed and he used his leverage on my arm to pull me down with him, hooking my ankle and sending me over his head.

A jolt of pain sang through my shoulder, but I rolled into it, and in desperation, scissor-kicked as we tumbled to the floor, using Ruin’s grip on my arm to pull his upper-body tight against me, while I hooked one heel over his thigh, and threw the other leg over his neck.

His eyes widened as I locked him in, his arm extended up my torso, unable to get leverage to push himself up because I’d locked one leg down, and he couldn’t raise his head, because my other knee squeezed in a vice on his neck.

I had him.

I fucking had him.

Grim pleasure burst in my chest as I watched his face turn red and I tightened my knee over his throat.

“Donavyn… Donavyn—don’t!” Bren breathed.

I barely heard her.

“You are a rapist, and a traitor,” I snarled.

Ruin’s eyes went wide and a strangled protest rose in his throat. His one free hand clawed at my knee, but I didn’t give two shits if he laid my leg open to the bone, I was not letting him go.

“I know precisely what you are, you little shit, and I’m going to—”

“Not… what you—” Ruin spluttered.

“Donavyn, you promised!”

“Do you hear that, cock-nugget? She’s begging for your life, because she cares more about my honor, than she does about how you tried to destroy her. But guess what? I don’t.”

“Donavyn!”

“I’m going to give you one chance, you putrid little fuck. I’m going to give you just enough air to beg for your life so you can spend it in the dungeon, groveling for her forgiveness—and unless you make it very clear that’s your singular life’s goal, I will snap your neck.”

I tightened my knee further and gave him a jerk, let him feel how close I was to stopping his air completely. He knew, with the right angle, I could snap his neck from this position, and his eyes went round as a red spider of veins burst in one of his eyes.

“You have a count of five,” I snarled through my teeth, then loosened my knee just an inch.

Ruin sucked in a lungful of air in a desperate wheeze, then croaked, “You can’t kill me! I know who the mole is!”

I froze. Bren gasped.

Ruin spluttered, trying to clear his throat, his face red, veins popping.

“What mole?” I seethed, but my heart had dropped to my toes. Because there was no way he’d known—