Piper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice.
*****
Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...
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Blue eyes widened as the blade sank home, flesh sizzling on silver before the tip grated to a stop against bone. Blood and fat splattered up my forearm as I wrenched it sideways, following the ridge of scar tissue and ripping through his abdomen for the second time in five months.
Colden choked, dropping Isaac to wrap his hands around my throat instead. I let him, feeling my eyes bulge from the pressure as Isaac slumped against the wall, shuddering like that last autumn leaf clinging to a skeletal twig as he coughed blood onto his shoulder. When the episode passed, his flinty eyes narrowed on the back of Colden's neck.
I shook my head slightly, glancing pointedly at the adolescent strapped to the silver chair. The bloodlust cleared from Isaac's eyes and he shoved off the wall, reluctantly trusting me to take care of myself as he moved to help Ethan instead.
Colden said something and I shook my head, confused. The quivering of his lips was making it hard to read the words.
Understanding flashed across Colden's face and he ripped out my earbuds, followed by his own. The floodgates of sound opened and I clenched my teeth against the onslaught of information, from Colden's ragged, gurgling breaths to the low whine of turning screws behind me. Isaac was moving fast.
"Why?" Colden rasped, blood flecking his lips. His thumbs dug in harder, and I wondered if he would rather kill me than let me get away. "We could have had everything."
I chose that moment to yank out the blade, lowering my lashes as stewed-cherry compote splattered on the floor. "Everything you wanted," I clarified, prying his fingers from my neck. They were pitifully weak, curling in on themselves like pale grubs. "I told you I wouldn't rest until my mother was brought to justice. I told you I wasn't ready to give you what you wanted, and you tried to take it from me anyway."
"But it's you and me," he insisted, grabbing my hands as he sank to his knees, not entirely of his own volition. "We were always meant to be together. Meant to rule the world."
I let out a bark of startled laughter. "People like me shouldn't have that kind of power. I care too little for life, Colden. And so do you."
"I can do better," he ground out, but the fury blazing in his eyes belied that promise. He hated grovelling. "I can change. Is that what you want?"
I shook my head. "You really don't get it, do you? We're done, Colden."
"No," he blurted out. Panic twisted the features I once found handsome.
"I don't deal in second chances," I said softly, pulling free of his feeble grasp. Colden's back hit the wall with a heavy thump and he slid down it, groaning as he applied pressure to his abdomen.
Isaac moved into my field of vision, a half-conscious Ethan slung over one shoulder. The torture chair was in ruins, the arms warped and screws scattered. My eyebrows flew up at the lack of smoke in the air; had he come prepared with gloves to protect him from the silver?
