Page 177

Twenty-Two

No More Death

I don’t close my eyes, wanting to see my death coming. I do flinch, however, waiting for the agony of the bullet ripping through my chest and ending my life. It’s a coward’s kill—they took a shot when I wasn’t looking.

It makes me angry. This is how I will die? By a coward’s bullet?

But the pain never comes.

I blink, and he’s there, his body blocking mine and taking the bullet meant for me.

I hear his grunt as it hits home, and then he falls to the ground next to me from the force of his jump and the bullet.

I stare, open-mouthed and shocked, as The Ring erupts in chaos.

The traitor is detained, my men rush to my side to check me over, and just a step behind me is the man who took the bullet meant for me.

My father.

His face is pale, his mouth is opening and closing, and his eyes are dull with shock as he lies on the ground.

My sword falls from my hand, forgotten on the sand as I drop to my knees next to him, my eyes catching on the hole torn through his chest. It’s raw and bleeding, like crushed meat. His chest is ruined.

He’s dying.

His hand reaches for me, bloodstained and shaking.

I take it automatically, cold and numb. I have made my peace with him, and I do not really hate him anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want him dead.

Because right now, I’m staring into the paling face of a man who helped raise me until the world went to shit.

Who kissed my scrapes, who brushed my hair at night and read me stories of kings and queens.

I’m looking down at not just a stranger, a man who gave up on me and made many mistakes, but the man who once loved and protected me.

He smiles slightly, his lips trembling and red with his blood. “It’s okay,” he croaks before coughs rack his body. I don’t know what to say, and he tenses for a moment, but he carries on, and I forget everything but him. “At least I was here this time.”

“Da—” I start, but he grips my hand harder.

“No, I’m not asking for your forgiveness.

I’m just so fucking happy I got to save you for once, and that I finally made up for my mistakes.

You are an amazing woman.” He coughs again, and I look up helplessly for assistance, but his voice drags my gaze back.

“Your mother would be so proud of you, of the person you have become.” His back bows as he screams, and I scream with him.

“Help me!” I yell, even though I know it’s pointless.

“No, baby, it’s time. I’m just glad I got to save you this time, that I wasn’t too late or too scared.

I’m paying my penance. I should have died that day.

Instead, I got to watch you grow into this amazing woman, the woman who will change the world.

Never stop fighting for that, never let the fear blind you like it did me.

I love you forever and a day, my girl,” he promises weakly.

His eyes become glassy as Evan drops next to him and starts working on his chest, but when he sits back with a shake of his head, I know.

He’s going to die.

He swallows hard, and I blink away some tears, my own emotions mixed. “Show-show them what it means to be a true queen,” he rasps, blood dripping from his lips. “Love-love you,” he slurs as his eyes start to turn cold.

“No!” I scream. “Look at me!” I demand as his hand goes slack in mine, but I grip it harder and lean down. “Please, fuck, don’t do this!” I yell. “I lost one father, I can’t lose another!” I beg and look up wildly. “Help me!”

But no one does as I stare down at my father. A man I once loved, then hated, then said goodbye to. But this goodbye is permanent, it’s forever. I can feel him slipping away in my arms. His eyes locked onto mine, scared but accepting. His blood pumps into my hands and onto the ground.

I lean down and sing. I sing the song Vass sung to me.

I let my broken, grief filled voice carry around the arena, and it is taken up by everyone here until the thunder of it is roaring.

Our pain one. My dad smiles at me. “For once, I know what it feels like to be truly loved. Thank you,” he whispers.

It’s not fast. I grip him to me, keeping his head close as I rock and sing like a mother would her child.

When it’s done, and I know he’s gone, I set him down gently and close his eyes, pressing his hands to his chest to cover the horrendous wound.

Leaning down, I kiss his sweaty, cooling head.

“I forgive you,” I murmur. Sitting back, I meet the eyes of my men.

They are broken, they are angry, and they are worried. Not for me.

For him.

For the man who just killed my father.

I’m numb and too tired to care. I stand and look at the man in question who’s being held.

He looks scared but determined, his head tilted back, and when I step closer, he spits at my feet.

“He died like a fucking animal, the stink of his shit still lingers, and you will die the same way, you fucking slave bitch.”

It’s fast. I grab my knife and watch in cold fascination as it slices through his neck.

His eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing as his blood squirts all over me—into my eyes, my mouth, and dripping down my body.

I simply blink, watching as he falls, and those holding him let go with disgusted sneers.

Crouching, I press my knife to his chin and meet his eyes.

“You are the one dying like an animal now, traitor.”

I watch him until he’s dead, then I stand. Blood-soaked, exhausted…and broken once again. Because with him gone, with my father dead, I realise no matter what, I still loved him. But everyone is looking at me now, expecting me to break.

I can’t. I won’t.

“Does anyone else have a fucking problem?” I almost scream, no doubt wild and crazed looking. I want to fight, I want to cause pain. I want screams and death, anything to make me forget, to get this…this fucking pain out of me.

I feel my men step up behind me and reach for me, but I shake off their hands. “Do you?” I roar.

All the warriors gathered drop to their knees.

I see the respect in some of their eyes and fear in others, and that is what stops me.

One man’s mistakes shouldn’t cost them all their lives.

I stumble back in fear at myself, at what I have become.

At what I might have done. I feel arms again, and as they wrap around me and lift me from the ground, I let them.

“Come with me, soulmate,” Dray murmurs into my ear.

I close my eyes for a moment, shivering in his grasp. My men and the other leaders, including Piper, close in front of me, protecting me, shielding me from view.

“We will now answer any questions,” Priest announces.

“But first, someone rip that fucking bastard to shreds and feed him to the ferals!” Piper yells .

I am pulled away before I hear anymore. Time seems to pass in a blink, and when I realise where we are, I start to struggle. We are below in the slave quarters. The door shuts with a resounding bang, and my men stand in front of it, stone-faced.

I bite at Dray’s arms so he tosses me away. I land on my feet and turn with a snarl as he smirks. “Come on, queen, show me what you’ve got,” he taunts.

I fly at him, my crown dropping from my head and skittering forgotten across the floor. I scream and slash with my knife, which is still covered in blood. Dray laughs and bobs and weaves out of the way easily, spinning and spanking me as he goes. It only enrages me further until I’m seeing red.

All I can think about is spilling his blood, of replacing the feel of my father’s on me. He teases me, taunts me. “Come on, soulmate, you can do better than that.”

I spin, chest heaving. My other men stare at me, blocking the door, keeping me here until I can think clearly.

With a yell, I turn back to Dray. I feint kicking him, and he goes to block my leg, but I smash my fist into his nose.

The crunch of the bone is loud, but instead of screaming or howling, he laughs as his eyes water and blood flows, but he doesn’t care.

“Good, more,” he urges, but the sight of his blood freezes me in place.

I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t. It’s not his fault, he doesn’t deserve my rage, but he’s the only one who’s here and he’s willing to take it.

He sees the hesitation in my eyes and narrows his own.

“Don’t get weak on me now, soulmate. Fucking bring it.

Unless you’re scared? Too slow? Too injured?

Maybe not fit to be the Champion anymore? ”

He carries on, circling me as I clench my fists. “Stop, I don’t want to hurt you,” I mutter.

“No? Weak, that’s fucking weakness,” he spits, and his taunting hits home, even as I try to ignore it. I know he’s lying, saying whatever he can to get a rise out of me, and trying to get these emotions out, because we both know if I keep them in, they will rot.

Maxen stays leaning against the door, but the others step forward.

Drax and Jax move in opposite directions around me as Thorn stands in front of me.

“Do it. Hit us, kick us, fight us. Get it all out, baby girl. No one can hear or see you. Scream, fight, cry, we don’t care, but don’t fucking shut us out. ”

I swallow, tears blurring my vision, and Jax attacks. I automatically duck, and then I have no time for thinking. They all come at me in a flurry, one after the other, until I can only defend myself, exhausting myself with no time to think on what happened or my roiling emotions.

I focus on the movement of my body, the feelings of my sweat dripping and my heart hammering, and before I know it, I’m not just defending, I’m attacking.

I kick and punch, sweep my leg out, and fling myself around them.

It doesn’t matter that there are four of them, it doesn’t matter if I’m outmatched, I don’t give up.

I keep fighting because that’s what you have to do.

You get knocked down, you get back up. You break, you put yourself back together, and you never, never fucking stop.

Because if you do, you might as well be dead.

To be in pain, to feel is to be human, I know that.

I’ve had my fair share of trauma and pain, but also love and laughter and even now, at my lowest, when I don’t think I can do it anymore, I surprise myself.

I can lie down and give up, or I can keep going, just doing the next thing and living in the moment. Not an hour from now, or a day or a year. My current breath slowly turns into the next and the next, and before I know it, those breaths will get easier, I just know it.

Because to be strong isn’t about just your body, but your state of mind, and fighting the demons inside your head is the biggest battle you can ever face. Every single person who wins, whether it be just that day, just that one stand, they are all fucking winners.

All champions, every single one of them.

I am too.

They blend into one, and I don’t even know who I’m fighting anymore.

It is a whirlwind. My body starts to flag, but I push harder, feeling my stomach start to bleed again.

Good, I should be bleeding, but when hands cup my cheeks and lips seal to mine, I freeze, and all that ice melts into desire.

I taste him, take his breath like I can’t live without it.

He’s my lifeline in the dark haze, and he pulls me back to life.

Hands touch me, stroke me, and comfort me, and it’s too much.

The softness overwhelms me.

I break the kiss, ripping my mouth away, and scream. He catches me as I sag and holds me in his hands as we fall to the stone floor. “No more,” I whisper. “No more.” I feel the others draw closer, and their arms join Dray’s. They kiss and hold me, offering their comfort, but I am still cold.

“I want no more fucking funerals!” I shout. “No more of those I love or care for dying. I can’t take it! Their blood fills my hands, their cries fill my nightmares… I’m so fucking tired of grieving. So tired of burying people… Please…please promise me, no more funerals.”

Maxen steps away from the door after watching to make sure no one got hurt. He stops before me and cups my chin, making me meet his eyes. His own are hard and filled with such determination and love, it stops my cries.

“ Mi Alma , breathe, no more funerals. I promise, no more, breathe for me. Let us hold you, we will put you back together again. Just breathe for us. No one will ever hurt you again, ever. Do you hear me? We will kill them all if we have to. No more tears, beautiful, they wreck me. That’s it, breathe, feel us, we are here, we will never leave you.

Not ever, it’s us for life, Mi Alma . Breathe. ”

So I do.