Riot
Page 46
“No monebi,” Viktor said. “They don’t get females in our gulag.”
The head Wraith’s eyes narrowed, then he shrugged his shoulders. “Your choice.” He stepped away and continued, “You’ll be told of your scheduled fights soon. There will be a viewing cage for your fighters to watch the other matches. We find that the fighters who watch the other men perform better when they enter the pit. The bloodlust makes for a more interesting battle.”
Viktor nodded and the head Wraith walked away. Viktor hovered near the door until the coast was clear. The byki released our ropes, but we stayed sitting against the wall of the room, just in case we were being watched.
Viktor sat opposite. Not looking at me, he said, “I have never seen anything like this place. Who would ever believe something like this existed?”
“Me,” the three of us replied in unison.
Viktor’s head turned to face us, and he nodded sadly. He sighed and said, “We should all get some sleep. We have to be focused tomorrow, in case you are announced as a first match.”
“Agreed,” I said quietly. Before we all moved to our beds, I said, “No matter what happens in these few days, even if one of us falls, we carry on. We bring this place down.”
“Agreed,” Zaal and Valentin said in unison.
I moved to a bed without another word, slipping off my ’dusters and laying them at my side. The sound of fighters practicing echoed off the walls. A constant dripping from a leaky pipe splashed repeatedly on the floor. Hearing Zaal and Valentin moving to the beds near me, an image of Kisa’s beautiful face filled my head.
I wondered if Zaal and Valentin were thinking of their females, too.
Because if they were, if they were fighting to return home with everything they had, we couldn’t possibly lose.
We had been thrust back into hell.
But this time the only way out was to burn it in our wake.
And we had only limited days to see it through.
12
901
Everything about today felt different. I had awoken with 152 in my arms, like every other day. But today wasn’t like every other day. We had changed. Things between 152 and me had changed.
I was changed.
I had taken her every night for weeks because she’d needed me for the drugs. Last night I had taken her because she wanted me to. The most beautiful mona in the pit had wanted me.
She had been taken to her quarters by the guard this morning, but before she left, she had pulled me out of view and given me a slow kiss on my lips.
Even now I could taste her on my mouth.
A guard came to the door and I stepped out. I walked to the hallway and, like every day, received my drugs. There was only me in the line, then 667 and 140 fell in behind me.
“First day of tournament,” 667 said. “The rest of the fighters are being moved to another part of the pit. The training pits are just for the champions and tournament fighters.”
The chiri injected me and I walked forward toward the pits. I held my Kindjals in my hands. Noises of males training hit my ears. When I entered through the open doorway, I roved my eyes around the mass of movement. 667 and 140 arrived behind me, and I knew they were looking, too.
Males of all sizes were sparring with their trainers. Every kind of weapon was being used: swords, daggers, chains, axes, hammers, sais, spears, knuckle-dusters.
I watched a few of the males in action. None seemed threatening. I moved to my usual pit, 667 and 140 jumping into theirs beside me. Only three other males were in this section with me. Three males that, when I watched them train, instantly pulled my attention. One was darker in skin with long black hair. I stared at another and my eyes widened. He was huge, tall with broad shoulders. He had severely scarred skin, the most severe lash scars on his face. But around his neck was the red remnant, evidence he had once worn a collar.
His hair was black, and in his hands he held two unpowered picanas, similar to what some of the guards held. When he turned his head, snarling in his sparring, I got a clear view of his face. His eyes were blue.
A third male suddenly slapped him on his back. My attention then went to him. He had blond hair and brown eyes. He was broad and tall. He didn’t look as severe as the other two males, yet there was something in the way he stood that made me think he would be the most threatening of them all. He had a calmness that betrayed his comfort at being inside a pit. The way he led the other two males he trained with told me he was used to taking control. Attributes like this always made the hardest warriors. The ones that could effectively stop the beating of your heart when you least expected it.
As if feeling my stare, the male turned around. His dark eyes watched me, and they narrowed. I watched him clench his fists. He wore bladed knuckle-dusters as his weapon of choice. I had fought many with them on before. They could be just as deadly as a dagger if you knew how to wield them correctly.
“Our biggest competition,” 667 said, arms folded across his chest.
140 flanked my other side. “They wouldn’t have been given this space if Master hadn’t found them worthy.”
“He is right. They are worthy. They move better than any other fighter in this pit. They are seasoned and effective.”
818, the male that looked to be in charge, was suddenly joined by the other two: 221 and 194. The three of them stared at us, we three stared back.
I tried to show I was unaffected, but my eyes kept drifting to the heavy scarred male. Not because he caused me fear or worry, but because of his eyes. His eyes were too similar, too familiar. The same color as 152’s. I turned away. I had to get her from my mind. She had no place in this pit. She would be a distraction, one I couldn’t afford to have.
A short male came toward the three fighters and pulled them away. My trainer arrived, and as was routine, I followed him to the pit. We began slowly, warming up my muscles. Before long, I was in the zone, smashing my Kindjals against my trainer’s shield.
Hours passed, and my body dripped with sweat. Movement caught my eye from the walkway that circled the training pit. My heart slammed against my chest when I looked up and saw 152 approaching. My blood instantly boiled when I saw her being paraded on Master’s arm. Her face was blank. She stared straight ahead. Master was holding her close, a smug smile on his fucking face.
I growled low and used my anger to strike out at my trainer. I smashed my blades with rapid force. I heard 140 snarl. He turned to see Master watching us train. He eyes casually left his three champions and landed on the three new fighters under the control of the short Georgian.
The head Wraith’s eyes narrowed, then he shrugged his shoulders. “Your choice.” He stepped away and continued, “You’ll be told of your scheduled fights soon. There will be a viewing cage for your fighters to watch the other matches. We find that the fighters who watch the other men perform better when they enter the pit. The bloodlust makes for a more interesting battle.”
Viktor nodded and the head Wraith walked away. Viktor hovered near the door until the coast was clear. The byki released our ropes, but we stayed sitting against the wall of the room, just in case we were being watched.
Viktor sat opposite. Not looking at me, he said, “I have never seen anything like this place. Who would ever believe something like this existed?”
“Me,” the three of us replied in unison.
Viktor’s head turned to face us, and he nodded sadly. He sighed and said, “We should all get some sleep. We have to be focused tomorrow, in case you are announced as a first match.”
“Agreed,” I said quietly. Before we all moved to our beds, I said, “No matter what happens in these few days, even if one of us falls, we carry on. We bring this place down.”
“Agreed,” Zaal and Valentin said in unison.
I moved to a bed without another word, slipping off my ’dusters and laying them at my side. The sound of fighters practicing echoed off the walls. A constant dripping from a leaky pipe splashed repeatedly on the floor. Hearing Zaal and Valentin moving to the beds near me, an image of Kisa’s beautiful face filled my head.
I wondered if Zaal and Valentin were thinking of their females, too.
Because if they were, if they were fighting to return home with everything they had, we couldn’t possibly lose.
We had been thrust back into hell.
But this time the only way out was to burn it in our wake.
And we had only limited days to see it through.
12
901
Everything about today felt different. I had awoken with 152 in my arms, like every other day. But today wasn’t like every other day. We had changed. Things between 152 and me had changed.
I was changed.
I had taken her every night for weeks because she’d needed me for the drugs. Last night I had taken her because she wanted me to. The most beautiful mona in the pit had wanted me.
She had been taken to her quarters by the guard this morning, but before she left, she had pulled me out of view and given me a slow kiss on my lips.
Even now I could taste her on my mouth.
A guard came to the door and I stepped out. I walked to the hallway and, like every day, received my drugs. There was only me in the line, then 667 and 140 fell in behind me.
“First day of tournament,” 667 said. “The rest of the fighters are being moved to another part of the pit. The training pits are just for the champions and tournament fighters.”
The chiri injected me and I walked forward toward the pits. I held my Kindjals in my hands. Noises of males training hit my ears. When I entered through the open doorway, I roved my eyes around the mass of movement. 667 and 140 arrived behind me, and I knew they were looking, too.
Males of all sizes were sparring with their trainers. Every kind of weapon was being used: swords, daggers, chains, axes, hammers, sais, spears, knuckle-dusters.
I watched a few of the males in action. None seemed threatening. I moved to my usual pit, 667 and 140 jumping into theirs beside me. Only three other males were in this section with me. Three males that, when I watched them train, instantly pulled my attention. One was darker in skin with long black hair. I stared at another and my eyes widened. He was huge, tall with broad shoulders. He had severely scarred skin, the most severe lash scars on his face. But around his neck was the red remnant, evidence he had once worn a collar.
His hair was black, and in his hands he held two unpowered picanas, similar to what some of the guards held. When he turned his head, snarling in his sparring, I got a clear view of his face. His eyes were blue.
A third male suddenly slapped him on his back. My attention then went to him. He had blond hair and brown eyes. He was broad and tall. He didn’t look as severe as the other two males, yet there was something in the way he stood that made me think he would be the most threatening of them all. He had a calmness that betrayed his comfort at being inside a pit. The way he led the other two males he trained with told me he was used to taking control. Attributes like this always made the hardest warriors. The ones that could effectively stop the beating of your heart when you least expected it.
As if feeling my stare, the male turned around. His dark eyes watched me, and they narrowed. I watched him clench his fists. He wore bladed knuckle-dusters as his weapon of choice. I had fought many with them on before. They could be just as deadly as a dagger if you knew how to wield them correctly.
“Our biggest competition,” 667 said, arms folded across his chest.
140 flanked my other side. “They wouldn’t have been given this space if Master hadn’t found them worthy.”
“He is right. They are worthy. They move better than any other fighter in this pit. They are seasoned and effective.”
818, the male that looked to be in charge, was suddenly joined by the other two: 221 and 194. The three of them stared at us, we three stared back.
I tried to show I was unaffected, but my eyes kept drifting to the heavy scarred male. Not because he caused me fear or worry, but because of his eyes. His eyes were too similar, too familiar. The same color as 152’s. I turned away. I had to get her from my mind. She had no place in this pit. She would be a distraction, one I couldn’t afford to have.
A short male came toward the three fighters and pulled them away. My trainer arrived, and as was routine, I followed him to the pit. We began slowly, warming up my muscles. Before long, I was in the zone, smashing my Kindjals against my trainer’s shield.
Hours passed, and my body dripped with sweat. Movement caught my eye from the walkway that circled the training pit. My heart slammed against my chest when I looked up and saw 152 approaching. My blood instantly boiled when I saw her being paraded on Master’s arm. Her face was blank. She stared straight ahead. Master was holding her close, a smug smile on his fucking face.
I growled low and used my anger to strike out at my trainer. I smashed my blades with rapid force. I heard 140 snarl. He turned to see Master watching us train. He eyes casually left his three champions and landed on the three new fighters under the control of the short Georgian.
