Page 102 of Lust and Honor

I lie down on the cold floor, burying my face in my hands. I have to hope he comes, otherwise, I’ll never see my daughter again. This isn’t how I imagined my life ending, but I’m ready to fight till the bitter end.

The next day, I spend it all eyeing the other women in the cell. We’re nearly twenty in here, and I have no idea who I’ll be up against. Some of them look like they’d be tough opponents.

Maria kneels beside me, holding out a piece of bread. “You should eat,” she says. “You’ll need your strength for tonight.”

I take the bread from her with a forced smile, and for a second, pure dread washes over me. What if they pit this kid against me?

By the time night falls, the guards come. A group of thick-built men drag me out of the cell while Maria sobs quietly behind them. They throw a skimpy black outfit at me, barely a scrap of fabric, and shove me through a set of ornate double doors.

The room beyond is lavish, golden light flickering off marble and velvet. About ten men and two women sit in a circle around a raised, circular stage, an arena. Silence falls the moment I enter.

As they lead me toward the arena, I see they’ve already hauled my opponent up there. The same young woman Maria pointed out last night, with those same steely eyes and hostile stance. Standing here now, I can’t blame her one bit. I’m just as full of fury, ready to tear her apart if it means saving myself.

I step onto the stage and let my eyes sweep slowly over the crowd, taking in their eager, almost feral stares. Some are hungry, others cold and calculating, but all of them belong to this sick, sadistic bunch. Roberto’s got a champagne flute in hand, lounging by the fireplace. Something inside me snaps.

I shout, my voice cutting through the hush, “You’re all a pack of twisted freaks. You don’t even deserve to be called human.”

The reaction stuns me. Some whoop and holler loud, while others raise their champagne glasses like it’s a toast to me.

A short, pudgy man steps forward like some deranged ring announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, our fiery new contender, Ava Wilson!”

The crowd erupts, clapping and whistling, their sick enthusiasm echoing off the walls.

“And in the opposite corner, our reigning champion, the undefeated Daliah!”

My opponent, Daliah, stays just as silent amid the sickos’ cheers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the armed guards pulling their guns. They’re just waiting for me to try something stupid, like making a run for it, so they can put a bullet in me.

Roberto walks over to the boxing bell, his voice calm but commanding. “Begin.”

Then he rings the bell.

Daliah lunges at me without a second’s hesitation, and I dodge aside but not fast enough to keep her fist from clipping my jaw. Dazed from the hit, I stagger back, but she charges again. This time, I react quicker, shielding my head so her punches slam into my arms instead.

I snap my knee up and drive it hard between her legs, shoving her off me. She stumbles back, breathing hard as she watches me. I feel blood trickle from the corner of my mouth, and it sinks in, there’s no other way.

If I’m going to survive this, I have to unleash every ounce of rage I’ve buried over the years.

The crowd fades away. The room disappears. It’s just me and Daliah, two desperate women tearing into each other with fists and fury. Adrenaline floods my veins, dulling the pain of every blow as I fight back with everything I’ve got. I don’t know how long it lasts, seconds, minutes, until I finally knock her to the ground. I straddle her and start swinging, fist after fist raining down on her face.

When her face becomes a bloody mess, I snap out of it and scramble back in horror. It’s like breaking through the surface after drowning, and suddenly I hear the crowd’s roaring cheers.

The pudgy announcer clambers onto the stage, voice booming: “The winner of the match, Ava Wilson!”

But my eyes are on Daliah. She twitches, and relief floods me so hard I could cry, knowing she’s still alive. A few guards rush in and swarm her. That’s when she screams, thrashing to fight them off. But they drag her away anyway, toward whatever grim fate awaits.

Guilt and shame crush me, my heart splintering under the weight, but I won’t cry in front of these monsters. When I’m shoved back into the cell, Maria rushes to me like always. She wipes the blood from my face with a scrap of cloth and refuses to leave my side all night.

A few hours later, the guards return and toss Daliah’s broken body onto the floor like trash.

I drop to my knees beside her, tears spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

***

Down here in this damp, dark basement, I have no sense of time. Logically, it’s probably only been a few hours, but it feels like I’ve been trapped here for days. The only thing keeping me from losing my mind is the hope that Maxim’s coming. Something deep in my chest insists he’ll come for me. I just have to stay alive until he does.

Footsteps echo again, and a few thick-necked guards barge into the cell. They head straight for me and drag me out once more. Despair floods every inch of me. Another fight.