Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
The restraints on Tusk. Because he’s not moving. But he’s still breathing.
Fuck.
With a groan, I sit up. Cherry’s kneeling next to Hatchet, who’s bent over and cradling his arm while she ties a torn strip of that blanket around his neck like a sling. At the sound of my groan, she glances over at me.
“Don’t move yet,” she says.
Not quickly, anyway. My vision swims.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells Hatchet, then scrambles over to me. “Don’t move yet. Let me…”
Put her hands on my face, feel her way around my jaw and up the back of my neck, then forward over my scalp. I suck in a breath through my teeth when a gentle touch above my ear sends pain shooting through my skull.
Shit. I’ve felt this before. “Got a boot to the head?”
“Victor’s.” Her hands slide away. “I don’t think it’s fractured. But it’ll be tender for a while. And we’ll keep an eye out for a concussion.”
Fair enough. “What’s the other damage?”
“Electrical burns on your back.” Her lips tremble. “And Hatchet’s arm is broken pretty bad.”
I don’t give a fuck about any of that. “What damage did Tusk do on his way out?”
“Oh. He killed all three guards on duty, I think.”
Didn’t kill Tusk. But at least that sick fucker’s good for something, and he got a little start burning down the Cage.
“Good,” I say. “Fewer to put down later.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. And there’s that sweet, sweet rage. She doesn’t say anything. Just nods, then goes back to Hatchet.
No longer touching me, no longer near me. I swallow the rot that pushes up through my chest, then look to Victor. The drill sergeant’s mask is there, but he’s pissed.
No need to guess why.
He glances at me, then to one of the guards. “Take him back to the barn.”
No running today, then. I get to my feet. Thanks to Victor’s boot, the change in elevation makes a few stars flash behind my eyes. But I don’t even care about that.
I slow my stride as I’m about to pass by him. “Three men, Vic,” I say quietly. “So maybe you put in a word to your boss about putting me in the ring with Tusk. I’m still an unknown. Papa can make a fuckton of money with a good point spread and everyone betting on this asshole. But you’ve already seen me get close to killing him. You know he’s a bad bet, but a whole lot of suckers will still throw in with him. So Papa’ll get his earnings, and I’ll take out the sick fuck who offed three of your boys.”
He gives no response. Just looks to the guard, who shoves at my shoulder so that I get a move on. But I bet those wheels are turning.
They just need to turn fast enough.
16
It’s two days before the doc arrives and can take a look at Matt’s arm—and with him comes the Iron Blood and three new fighters.
So they found someone else to be bait. I don’t know whether to be relieved that I wasn’t forced to do it or horrified that some other girl got dragged into this. I don’t know who. Probably someone the Iron Blood picked out, because they don’t bring her here to stay like Lissa did.
But maybe it’s like Matt said. Extreme situations cause extreme reactions. Emotions that don’t seem right, but that you can’t help feeling. Because I am relieved. And horrified. And terrified for Matt, because his arm’s a mess. The best I could do was splint the break, then use ice packs for the swelling and aspirin for the pain.
In the medical stall, Victor watches over us while Matt sits up on the examination table. There the doc confirms what I feared. “It’ll need surgery.”
Which they don’t do here. One of the other fighters needed surgery, too, for a fracture in his lower leg. Then they brought him back, he healed up—and died the next time in the Cage.
Because they give the guys time to heal, but not a lot of time to strengthen up again. Still. It’s better than the alternative. And Matt won’t have to fight again for a while.
“Okay.” I grip Matt’s good hand in mine. Both the doc and Victor know he’s my brother, so I don’t have to pretend anything in here. “So that’ll be a few weeks he’s gone?”
“More or less,” the doc says, strapping the splint back on. “He’ll be at my private clinic. Sedated and restrained, of course. And when I’m confident the arm is healing as it should, I’ll send him back.” He looks to Victor. “You’ll take him? I understand that you are about to leave for your holiday. If you can make a detour to the clinic, that will make arranging transportation simpler.”
Victor nods. “I’ll do that. And you won’t give us any trouble, Mr. Miller, because your sister’s safety depends on your cooperation. Understand? You’ll go real quiet and won’t put up a fight.”