Phoenix Warriors

Chapter 3

My heart was beating so fast and so hard I could feel it bouncing off my ribs like a war drum, echoing in my ears. Does he know? I glanced across the mat to where Captain Beautiful—no, Xavier—stood, poised like a lion ready to pounce. His dark, untamed hair framed his sharp features, almost falling into his eyes, which were as dark and unreadable as ever. His tan skin glowed under the sunlight, muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he rolled his shoulders in preparation. He was tall, broad, and every inch of him looked like it had been chiselled out of stone. My stomach churned as I caught the slight upward twitch of his lips.

He knew. He knew I was scared.

This was it. My heart thrummed in my chest as I tried to keep my breath steady. This is going to be the end of me, I thought, swallowing hard.

And yet, I couldn't stop myself from thinking, At least I'll die under the hands of Captain Beautiful—the deadliest warrior of the Six. If I'm going to go out, this is a hell of a way to do it. Way better than being taken out by some wannabe like Drake.

I took a breath, glancing at him again. He was circling the mat now, eyes fixed on me, his stance relaxed but predatory, like a wolf sizing up his prey. I followed his movements, trying to look steady even though my legs felt like jelly. We mirrored each other, both of us moving in a slow, cautious circle, the rest of the world fading away as the crowd watched in silence.

His gaze roved over me, taking in every inch of my body like he was searching for cracks, weaknesses, any opening he could exploit. I felt exposed, like he was seeing through my skin to my bones, reading me like an open book. I hated it, the way his dark eyes dissected me with that quiet intensity, like I was already a corpse waiting to hit the floor.

God, he's beautiful. My thoughts betrayed me, just for a moment. Is this really how it ends?

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. This wasn't the time to admire him, no matter how ridiculously handsome he was. I needed to survive. I could feel every muscle in my body tensing, waiting for his move. My breath was shaky, but I tried to find my center, to search for that voice again—the one that had saved me in the fight against Drake. Where are you? I pleaded silently to the wind, closing my eyes for the briefest moment.

When I opened them, I focused on Xavier, letting him know I was ready, or at least trying to look like I was. His expression was unreadable, as always, but I could sense the shift in the air between us. He was calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Then, the whisper came. Soft, faint, but there: He's about to jab with his right fist to your jaw and sweep you off your feet. Duck and jump.

I braced myself, watching for the slightest movement. Sure enough, his right fist shot forward, faster than I could have anticipated, aiming straight for my jaw. My body reacted before my mind did—I ducked, the punch narrowly missing me. In the same motion, I jumped as his leg swept under me, missing my feet by a fraction of a second.

I landed in a crouch, my heart pounding in my throat. Xavier retreated, his face still blank, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of surprise, maybe? No, not surprise. Amusement.

He was playing with me.

He's toying with me, I thought bitterly, my chest heaving as I stood. Like a cat with a mouse. He's not even trying.

I heard the wind again, more urgent this time: When he turns to punch, kick him in the chest.

I steadied myself as Xavier shifted his weight, turning for another strike. This time, I didn't hesitate. The moment his arm moved, I launched forward, my foot connecting with his chest in a sharp, precise kick. He staggered back slightly, but before I could even feel a sense of triumph, he swept his leg under me again, and this time, I wasn't fast enough.