Page 53 of The Devil After Dark

fifty-two

LIANA

White. The dress Merrick put me in was white like a fucking bridal gown.

The only difference was far too much of my skin was showing.

He didn’t give me underwear to wear either and the small bits of fabric connecting the material to itself told me I should expect this dress to be torn from my body.

He kept me in the room until the very last moment.

I had begged him and tried to bargain for him to do anything other than take me down the lift to wherever this event was happening.

When none of that had worked I had begged for some kind of drug so that I would be barely conscious for this. That didn’t work either.

Merrick escorted me down a dark hallway towards what sounded like a sporting event—it was a sporting event.

In one final effort, I lashed out at him.

I fought back. I thrashed and kicked and screamed and was quickly overpowered by magic and strong hands.

Now all that stood between me and whatever I was about to face was a thick black curtain.

I turned to look up at Merrick one last time.

“Cassio will kill you,” I breathed. I wanted to believe it. I prayed it would happen.

A smirk turned up the corner of Merrick’s lips.

“He’s already been trying … and failing.

” Then he reached forward and swept the curtain back, pushing me forward at the same time.

The place was packed with bodies and a three foot wide walkway towards a raised chain link octagon was the only opening in front of me.

The noise was deafening. This was like any other combat event I had glimpsed or heard about.

My eyes followed the cleared pathway to the octagon and I saw the four men waiting.

Unlike other combat sports, this one had no referee.

These men would fight until only one was living.

If I was lucky, none of them would try to hurt or kill me in the process …

and I would be fucked senseless with three dead bodies around me.

My stomach heaved and I doubled over. Tears streamed from my eyes and I retched.

Nothing came up. Merrick had ensured there was nothing that would come up.

He had fed me and given me pills to take that would only help me stay conscious and my stomach contents safely inside my stomach.

Merrick pushed me forward again and my feet moved involuntarily.

Then his hand was opening the chain link door and shoving me inside.

I heard the metal close behind me and my eyes flashed to each of the contestants.

Each one was waiting, evenly spaced around the ring.

All of them were watching me. “Let the Claiming begin in three …” They tore their eyes away from me and looked at each other.

“Two …” I backed myself against the chain link.

There was no way to defend myself in here.

I was caged with monsters. “One …” The crowd erupted in a roar that deafened me.

“Begin!” Each of the men sprung forward.

The tall thin one with the pointed teeth, who, it turns out, had sandy blonde hair and a tattoo of an eagle covering his entire back, was the first one to die.

Oran ended his life with only a few quick movements.

I was just praying they stayed focused on each other and far away from me.

As they fought, I kept my back to the cage and scurried away from where they were, making circles around the edge.

After my initial shock of watching the tall one die, my body had completely gone into survival mode.

The screaming crowd was a distant sound in my ears as my thundering heart took over.

Gray metal looking spikes appeared in Meyer’s hands and he spun, slashing his way towards the only one of them who looked like a normal person.

Finnick. His name was Finnick. And now I was watching their magic join the fight.

I launched myself a few feet over as Meyer lunged, missing Finnick with his spikes, and slammed into the cage beside me.

I scrambled away, putting space between us.

With a blast of what I could only describe as wind, Finnick simultaneously slammed Meyer against the wall of the octagon and pushed Oran further away from all of us.

I took the opportunity to put more distance between me and the contestants.

Metal spikes. Wind. What magic did Oran have?

Had I missed it when he had ended the tall one so quickly?

In the blink of an eye, Oran was across the octagon, a fist connecting with Meyer and sending him flying through the air.

There it was. Speed and strength. My eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of my head as the three of them brawled and separated, flung magic and retreated.

Then Finnick caught Meyer from behind, sending Meyer into the chain link for another time, but this time he launched himself at Meyer’s back.

Meyer flung his spike behind him and Finnick dodged, using Meyer’s own momentum to snatch up the spike in his hand and bury it through the base of Meyer’s neck.

Blood sprayed from the wound and Finnick slammed his hand on top of the spike, driving it deeper.

Meyer’s body lurched forward. Then fell to the mats.

Finnick’s head snapped up and immediately trained on Oran.

Oran looked at Finnick with a sick smirk on his face.

Then he turned his head to look directly at me.

My fingers were clawed into the fencing—both trying to hold me up and ready to help propel me in a direction away from both of them if I needed to.

My hands ached. I knew they were cut and bleeding from clinging onto the metal, but I didn’t dare let go or take the time to look at them.

I also knew I had other small injuries from fleeing, but none of that mattered.

Two men were left and one of them was staring his dark brown eyes right into mine.

I tore my eyes away and looked at Finnick.

Finnick’s eyes were darting between me and Oran.

Were they going to come for me next? That could be a strategy.

Try to kill me instead of directly going for their opponent.

It was as if the entire building had gone silent—it hadn’t, the roar of the crowd was just as loud, but it felt even more distant as my senses narrowed in on the two lethal men staring at me.

Who did I want to win? Could I tip the scale in their favor?

Finnick. It had to be Finnick. He might be a horrible choice, but considering Oran had been here twice before and won?

I certainly did not want to leave here with Oran. I would bet on Finnick.

Finnick bent slowly and yanked the spike from Meyer’s neck. I watched him weigh the blood covered metal in his hand as he kept his eyes trained on Oran. All three of us were frozen. Someone would have to move first.