Page 28 of Tides of Fate (Fated in the Stars #3)

The area around the arena is much the same as the day before, except for the nondescript prisoner transport and the coroner/mortician’s car parked next to each other. It’s a strange coincidence, and for a second, Nix wonders why Hayes wouldn’t make it easier on everyone by just getting out of one and directly into the other.

They sit for a minute, all five of them in the car, staring at the two vehicles parked side-by-side until Gideon raps at the window, setting them into motion. The sudden noise makes Nix’s stomach swoop, a brief swirl of anxiety slipping loose from the mental box where his wolf sits sentry.

The pack assembles behind the cars, waiting for Finn to grab his medical bag out of the trunk. Even though he won’t be allowed to provide aid during the combat, Finn insists he might be needed after.

If carrying the bag makes him feel better, who is Nix to stop him?

Grayson lifts him effortlessly, and Nix buries his face in his crisp perfume-y basil-vanilla scent. He holds tight, letting Jamie’s steady grip on his ankle ground him, and his last trickles of anxiety fade.

No one says a word as they follow Gideon’s lead along the path. Only the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional trill of birdsong break the silence.

Judge Patel and Judge Sanderson are speaking with Erin as they approach the gate set into the arena’s tall stone wall, and all three nod in greeting.

“Phoenix Rena,” Judge Patel says. “May we have a word?”

Grayson kisses his cheek, lowering his feet to the ground. “I’ll be here when you’re finished, Angel. ”

“We’ll just take a moment, and then you can say ‘see you soon’ to your mates,” Erin adds.

“Mr. Rena, we are honored to be here. Are you ready?” Judge Patel asks.

Nix nods. “Yes.”

“Alright. I won’t wish you luck, Mr. Rena, but I will wish you all the blessings the Goddess can provide,” Judge Sanderson says before he walks away through the wrought-iron gate and up into the stands immediately to his right.

“I suppose the rest falls to me, then,” she mutters, barely concealing her exasperation.

She exhales sharply, refocusing. “Mr. Rena, today’s combat is to the death. No medical aid will be provided until the sentence has been delivered. Judge Jones will address the combatants once you enter the field.”

“I understand, thank you.”

Sighing, the judge tilts her head, studying him. “Mr. Rena, there are no rules here. I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but—the prisoner is…unhinged.”

Patel hesitates momentarily, and suddenly, a resounding howl echoes through the arena. “Also, I must also ask that you remove your scent blocker patch, as it creates an unfair advantage.” The judge holds out her hand.

“I’m not wearing one, ma’am.” Nix lets a flurry of vanilla out before sucking it back in. He hopes the judge doesn’t notice the soft scent of baking bread.

Erin speaks up before the judge can comment, “Your Honor, the law forbids any external scent inhibitor but says nothing about a natural one.”

“Hmmm. I understand the provision, Ms. Christie. Thank you.” The judge nods once before rubbing her hands together. “Very well, then. Mr. Rena, we begin in ten minutes.”

Offering him a small smile, she subtly lifts her nose as if testing whether she can catch Nix’s scent again.

It’s only Gideon’s restraining hand on Rowan’s neck that keeps him from a night in a prison cell—it does nothing to hide the vicious snarl that leaks out, however .

“I see. Well, good luck in all things, Mr. Rena.” She winks and, with another nod, follows her colleague through the gate.

“Okay, Nix, you should get changed,” Erin says, offering a pair of black pants with a small bow. “These are customary for combat.”

“Thank you for everything, Erin. I wouldn’t be here without you,” Nix says, and he means every word.

She hesitates for a single second before pulling him in for a hug. She releases him immediately, pink-cheeked as if she’s surprised by her actions. “You truly are a miracle, and if you ever need me, please call. I’ll touch base next week if that’s all right with you?”

“I’d like that.” Nix smiles, waving as she leaves to take her seat.

His mates circle him, and gentle hands caress his shoulders and press the small of his back. The black pants are similar to yoga pants—stretchy but loose enough for extra movement. Finn helps him to remove “their” white sweater, and he shivers in the morning air.

Nix hopes they can be home in time for lunch—maybe they can finally eat that beef roast Gideon has in the fridge.

“Hey, Gideon?” he whispers, watching Gideon fuss over the hems of his pants like details might keep him safe. “When we get home, will you make Beef Wellington? You promised.”

Leo snorts as his shoulders finally drop from their tensed-up position near his ears. “You’re not sweating this at all, are you?”

“I’m really not. Trust me.”

The speakers pop and hiss as Judge Patel’s voice booms over the system. “Combatants, please take the field.”

As his mates close in, surrounding him in a brief group hug, Nix takes his last deep breath of smoky pine, a thunderstorm, spicy cinnamon, and spiced rum—of fresh basil and tart black currants. And finally, sweet, chocolatey mocha.

He straightens, shakes out his arms, and meets Jamie’s eyes.

His first love looks at him like he wants to say a thousand things but doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he gives his head a small shake and an even smaller smile. “Come back to me, baby boy. ”

“See you soon,” Nix says before walking through the gate and into the arena. He can’t look back now—he has to forget about them so that he can do this.

He shivers again because, for the first time since he woke up in that hospital bed, he truly feels alone.

Judge Jones is standing in the middle of the field, looking much more casual in a gray tracksuit than the last time Nix saw the big man. When Nix approaches, the judge smiles and offers him his large hand.

“Mr. Rena, are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good to hear. We’ll bring Mr. Hayes in, and then we’ll commence. You understand there are no rules except that you stay on the field until one of you is dead or dying?”

“Yes, sir. May I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“What happens if he tries to leave?”

“We return him to the field,” Jones replies as though the answer were the simplest thing in the world. “There are guards.”

“Okay. That’s good.” At least Nix won’t have to chase him down.

There’s a howl at the other end of the field, and the clang of the gate is unnaturally loud as it echoes off the stone walls of the arena. Two guards drag Dawson Ulysses Haversham Hayes in by his arms while he thrashes and snarls.

For a moment, Nix is shocked.

This is not the slimy, urbane man who tortured him for five years. It’s certainly not the man who once charmed him with a smile on the steps outside Ripley Records. This man is more animal than person—feral, with his claws out and only his Were fangs left in his mouth.

“What happened to him?” Nix asks Judge Jones.

“Honestly, we aren’t sure. His inmates haven’t taken kindly to him in prison, but this seems like more than just that.”

No shit. Hayes looks like a demon straight from the gates of Hell.

As if he detects Nix’s regard, he shrieks and tries to pull away from his guards. Judge Patel was right—Hayes looks unhinged.

“You should stay behind me, Your Honor,” Nix says.

Nix steps slightly in front of the judge in case Hayes breaks free. The bigger man huffs in surprise, probably because he has a hundred pounds on Nix and is at least ten inches taller.

“Thank you, Nix. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

With a pat on Nix’s shoulder, he nods. “Then let’s begin.”

As Judge Jones approaches Hayes, the wind swirls through the enclosed arena, carrying the putrid scent of decay down the field.

Nix doesn’t waste another second on the icy wind raising goosebumps on his arms or the bright sun just clearing the high walls. Instead, he turns inward, focusing on his breath. He lets the energy he’s felt since they arrived in the mountains rise through the soles of his feet, filling every cell.

His soul knows this place.

When he opens his eyes, he meets Hayes’s gaze head-on. It’s just the two of them now—his tormentor and him.

Time to take back what was stolen.

A guttural “bitch” floats to him on the wind a split second before Hayes slams him into the grass.

“Hello, Austin. Couldn’t wait to get you on your back again, in front of Rhodes. Been thinking about me?”

His breath is fetid, thick with decay, and when spittle lands on Nix’s face, it burns like acid. The scent alone is rancid enough to curdle Nix’s stomach—like Hayes is rotting from the inside out.

Settling into the place Gideon showed him—where he doesn’t think, doesn’t feel, just lets instinct guide him. Nix tunes out Hayes’s poisonous words as time slows. Flashes of memories from the past five years flicker behind his eyes as Hayes sits on his chest, knees pressed to the tops of his arms, preventing Nix from digging his claws in.

But Nix wasn’t a victim anymore, and Gideon made sure he had other tools in his arsenal.

Lifting his legs, Nix hooks them around Hayes’s shoulders and yanks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the grass—and more importantly, off him.

Hayes staggers to his feet, wildly swiping his clawed hands out, and it’s clear he’s had no training. Even knowing he would be here, his team had done nothing to prepare him for this fight.

It’s surprising negligence on their part, given that the law would allow for him to walk away if he won.

Best to make this quick, then.

Nix swipes out a clawed hand and grasps Hayes’s wrist, twisting it hard. He hears a snap and moves his hand up, squeezing again until both bones in his forearm follow suit.

Crack-crack.

Hayes howls in agony and stumbles back. Nix uses the momentum to pull—hard enough that his arm dislocates with a pop—and is rewarded with another scream.

“You fucking cunt! Do they take turns bending you over every night, or do you just beg for it? No wonder they sent you out here to do their dirty work—Rhodes always was a fucking coward.”

Despite his words, Hayes staggers, swiping his good arm out wildly, groaning with the pain.

Nix knows that agony too well—still feels it burning in his own gut. He blinks, just for a second—and it’s long enough for Hayes to slam a fist into his face, cracking Nix’s nose so that blood gushes down his face.

There’s a shout and a scuffle behind him, and Nix doesn’t need to turn around to know someone has had to hold Jamie back from entering the field. Even with their bonds closed off, Jamie’s anger at the sight of Nix’s blood hurts his heart.

“Ah, there it is,” Hayes moans, as if the sight of his pack’s suffering gives him pleasure.

“You don’t look at them,” Nix growls.

“Oh, Austin, that’s why I’m here. Look at them—crying and—ooh, Rhodes looks like he’s going to—”

Nix cuts the words off with a punch to Hayes’s mouth. His head is thrown back, and his lips split as his jaw crumples under the impact.

He stumbles backward but keeps his feet, changing his momentum so he can charge Nix, arms around his waist in an attempt to take them to the ground again.

This time, though, Nix is ready.

Arms pinned to his sides, he digs his claws into Hayes’s back before throwing his arms up, breaking free.

Grasping Hayes by the hair, he presses his thumb into Hayes’s eye.

Hayes’s horrified shriek is instantaneous, and Nix pulls away to headbutt him until he’s flat on his back in the dirt. Shaking off the eyeball that was still impaled on his thumb, Nix spits out a mouthful of blood.

He growls, and flashes of blue light reflect on Hayes’s face as he stalks toward him, scrambling across the grass to escape.

There is something satisfying about Hayes’s terror as he gains his feet and breaks into a run down the field. The guards close ranks, but Nix has no intention of letting him get that far.

Nix jogs after him and grabs him by the hair. The first handful pulls out at the roots, but Nix just tries again, dragging him back down the field while Hayes claws at his arms. The gouges are deep, and Nix can see his muscle, but he still doesn’t let go.

The pain and blood only feed his wolf’s burning need for vengeance.

With a last shake, Nix flings Hayes away, but he comes back swinging, catching Nix in the ribs and opening a gash in his side.

While not half as big as the one he’d received from Gideon, it burns—even through his mental block—and the searing pain distracts him enough that he cries out while Hayes laughs and licks the blood off his claws with a cackle.

Nix refuses to look at his mates, even though it is proving more difficult than he’d expected. Blood pours from his side, slower than it had in the gym, but once Hayes thinks Nix is cowed by the pain, he takes a moment to gloat, raising his good arm in the air and pointing back toward the stands.

The wolf growls low, landing a kick to the side of Hayes’s left knee—then his calf—followed by a long, claw-tipped swipe to Hayes’s abdomen as he tilts to the side. Not enough to disembowel, but enough to hurt like fire.

Then—soft as a prayer, cutting through the wind and over the distance—he hears his name.

Just his name, in a voice he loves.

Luca.

He can’t resist the urge to look this time, and when he looks up, they’re all standing at the railing, and he can see them perfectly. He can read the fury, fear, and love in their faces—but he can’t feel them.

He needs to feel them—to anchor himself with their love.

The surge of need is so intense that it flashes white behind his eyes, shattering the iron grip he has on his bonds.

Instinctively, he opens himself up, letting the bonds rush in, flooding him with love and power being pushed through the bond, reminding him he is loved and he is theirs.

With their love comes relief from the pain in his face, the wound in his belly—and with a sharp crack, his nose snaps back into place.

Nix understands now—his bonds aren’t a weakness.

Their bonds make him strong.

Heal him.

Give him courage.

Make him cunning.

Make him whole.

There’s nothing Nix can’t do when he has them in the forefront of his heart and mind.

It’s time to finish this.

To take vengeance for every moment of pain and fear Hayes has reveled in over the past five years.

—for every bone Hayes broke, and every time he made Nix scream.

Nix drives the heel of his palm into Hayes’s breastbone, feeling the bone collapse beneath the force.

He slams his hand into a cheekbone, digs his claws into Hayes’s side, and then spins him so he can dig them in again.

Lungs. Spleen. Kidney.

—for the hours of surgery and suffering his pack endured, waiting to see if he would live or die.

Nix takes his clawed hand and grabs his rapist between the legs, vulnerable testicles in his palm. While this isn’t the same kind of violation, it’s close enough.

He twists—hard and fast.

Hayes can’t even scream because he has no breath. He vomits into the grass and then collapses onto his side, knees to his chest—the same position Nix would curl into after hours of torture.

—for every time Hayes took what didn’t belong to him.

—for every thought that has made Nix believe he is dirty—used up, and not enough.

Nix rolls Hayes onto his back with his foot.

Over the rush in his ears, his wolf howls.

—for the use of magic that kept Nix away from his family, alone and lonely .

For all of that, his wolf wants their torturer’s heart in his hand.

Hayes’s death is all his wolf has dreamed of since he came into this new world—afraid and angry.

But for Nix-the-person, death would be too easy.

It’s Nix-the-person who remembers the past five years—every minute he’d hidden in fear, every tear he hadn’t shed.

And for those things, Hayes hasn’t paid nearly enough.

The wind dies down.

The bystanders hold their breath.

Nix presses the tips of his claws into Hayes’s chest—just to show that he can.

Hayes coughs, and blood spills from his ashen lips. Maybe it’s the ruptured spleen. Maybe the perforated bowel.

Nix knows the sound of rattling breaths from a collapsed lung. Knows the agony of a gaping eye socket.

Knows that this pain is like no other.

“Aust’n,” Hayes gasps. “Do it.”

“Do what, Dawson? You’re in no position to ask me for anything. ”

“Kill…me.”

“You’re asking me for mercy? You? ”

Nix would throw his head back and laugh—if he weren’t genuinely curious why his tormentor thinks he deserves it.

Hayes coughs again, and his one remaining eye somehow finds him.

“Wasn’t me,” he whispers, gasping for air. His unscathed right hand lifts—tries to grasp Nix’s arm—but Nix swipes it away.

“Was m’father.”

His father?

Nix hadn’t even known he had one—not that it mattered.

Tears mix with the blood on Hayes’s cheek, but Nix feels nothing. No sympathy. No pity.

Even if it were true, it was Hayes every step of the way—a macabre artist of cruelty, and Nix, his captive canvas.

But now? Now, all he sees is a pathetic, bloody shell of a man.

And Nix is done.

Done giving Hayes even one more second of his perfect life.

Straightening, he looks to the stands—to his pack.

Luca stands at the railing, Gideon’s arms wrapped tight around his chest, tears streaking his face.

Every one of his mates looks sad, fearful, exhausted.

And all Nix can think is that every second he spends here with Hayes is a second stolen from them.

His wolf surges forward as power threads through his voice, layering every word with finality. “ Die slowly, Dawson Ulysses Haversham Hayes. ”

Luca holds his hand to him, and Nix doesn’t spare one last look at the dying man.

There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’ll die from his injuries, but Nix realizes he doesn’t have to be there to see it.

He’s free.

“Mr. Rena,” Judge Patel says, and there’s no need for a microphone—the acoustics in the amphitheater ensure Nix hears the surprise in the judge’s voice. “It’s your right to give him what he deserves. ”

“I know, ma’am. Don’t you think that this is what he deserves?”

The judge tilts her head, and her eyes flicker to the man bleeding out in the grass at the center of the arena.

“He’s defeated, alone, and unloved. There’s not one person here for him, and, ma’am, there are seven people here for me. I’m done.”

He doesn’t wait for the judge to respond.

Running toward his family, he jumps ten feet up into the stands—right into Jamie’s arms.

“I love you, Jamie Rhodes,” he murmurs, kissing him hard while all his mates circle around him and squeeze him tight.

“Love you too, baby boy. Ready to go home?” Jamie asks, relieved tears drying on his cheeks.

Grayson grabs him the instant Jamie is done and cries big, relieved sobs into Nix’s neck while Luca attaches himself to his back. Nix can feel hot kisses pressed against his shoulders, too.

“Hey, hey. Leave some for the rest of us. Come here and hug me, Nixie. I’m lonely,” Leo says, his voice breaking in the middle, though his embrace doesn’t falter.

Rowan wrestles him away from Leo, sniffing and licking at his neck and ears, snuffling into his hair. No doubt he smells of blood and Hayes’s fear.

“You smell terrible, Nix. Don’t do that again. But also—you totally kicked his ass. So hot.”

Nix laughs, overjoyed, because the feeling of freedom is almost euphoric.

By the time he’s been passed around from mate to mate for hugs and scenting, Nix is lighter than air—and Gideon is the only person he hasn’t heard from.

His mate is leaning on the railing, looking out over the field. He might be watching the officials clear the body away or observing the remnants of their contest. Either way, Nix wants no more of that in his memory.

“Gideon?” he calls, and Gideon turns, sweeping him up into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, kitten.”

“You’re not mad…that I just walked away? After all that?”

After all the pain and worry, Nix means .

Shaking his head, Gideon smiles. “How could I be? You did exactly the right thing. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Finn wipes most of the blood off his face and boops him on the nose, pulling the white sweater back over his head. Smoothing it over Nix’s shoulders, he murmurs, “There we go—back where it belongs.”

Gideon puts an arm around him, and Luca comes up on his other side to swing their hands between them.

Nix’s bonds are bright, zipping, and flashing with all the emotions his family can’t contain—joy, happiness, and hope. There’s a lightness in Nix’s soul that he can’t remember feeling since the very first time he met Jamie Rhodes at the beach.

Holding Luca’s hand with Gideon on his other side they follow the others out of the stands and begin the thirty-minute walk back to the car.

They’re starting fresh—a new beginning for Nix’s new beginning.

Even Finn has abandoned the temporary emergency medical bag, not wanting to carry anything that would remind them of this day.

He’s not the only one feeling buoyant as his mates push and shove good-naturedly.

Rowan makes Leo carry him on his back while the smaller man complains to anyone who will listen, and Grayson holds Jamie’s hand on one side and Finn’s on the other, pretending to make them hoist him up as parents do for their toddlers.

This moment reminds him that he should always be grateful for them.

Nix is so blessed in this new life, even though the road to get here has been hard.

He still doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve good things, but he will spend the rest of his life earning them.

“Let’s go home,” he says, twirling Luca around by the hand.