The Mystery Fighter III

The Mystery Fighter III (22)

"Good going, Claire!"

The voice sliced through the noise behind him, jolting Zayden from his thoughts.

Claire?

Still processing the unexpected turn of events, he eyed Cassie quizzically. Her little smile didn't disappear, but her eyes - those stormy, steel-cut eyes- softened as she held his gaze. She answered with a short shrug, still holding his arms in place.

Oh, right. Her alias.

Zayden's gaze dropped to the cap low over her forehead—was that... Julian's? His stomach turned.

«Hold the sucker while I knock him out real quick,» the man ordered gruffly, closing in fast.

Cassie didn't break their gaze as the man approached. She didn't even blink. Slight apprehension crept into Zayden's thoughts as the man approached. 

Zayden could hear the heavy crunch of boots over gravel, the kind that meant bad news was right behind him.

A flicker of doubt sparked in his chest.

She wouldn't...?

She looked back at him, but her eyes were devoid of emotion. It was like she wasn't there with him. Her mind was somewhere else. 

Wait. What was going on? 

Zayden stared at her, a frown forming, as he searched her face, waiting for a sign, anything—and then, she released him.

With one last glance thrown his way, she finally broke away and shot her leg out around him.

Zayden could hear the sound of her foot connecting to the side of the man behind him. He hunched forward in reflex. Not wasting a second, she pushed Zayden aside and swung a roundhouse kick to the unsuspected man's unprotected temple.

The resounding impact echoed through the chaos, incapacitating the opponent and reverberated through Zayden's bones. 

Zayden blinked, watching somewhat joyfully as Cassie showcased her fighting skills, momentarily forgetting the internal turmoil caused by her unexpected presence on the battlefield.

He took in the particular way she swiftly danced around and away from the man's confused but powerful swinging knuckles, peculiar to her alone. Coiled muscle, sharp instinct, elegant violence. The way her shoulders rolled before each strike, the serpentine twist of her torso, the way she folded into the motion, and the retractment of her upper back as she lunged and threw a punch.

And then another one.

An another. 

It was pure muscle memory and madness. And it was beautiful.

Immediately, it was as if an electric current ran through his body.

The surge of energy brought him a new awareness of himself, from the supple movement between his legs to the movements of his lungs as he breathed. Something tickled his lips. His head was screaming at him to help, but he couldn't stop admiring the sight of her.

~Cassandra~

«I've been wanting to do that all week,» I huffed between breaths as I put my hands on my hips, winded from the quarrel with Sam. A last resort elbow to the side of his head had knocked him out. 

Sam was a walking tank with fists like bricks. The only reason I had been able to take him down was the element of surprise and three sleepless nights fantasizing about how.