Page 63 of Thrown to the Wolves

She is. But she’s not as good as me. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

“I’m the best,” she corrects me. “I should have been the one sent to eliminate you. Scarlett is weak.” Another flurry of attacks drives me back, but I give as good as I get, landing a solid hit to her ribs that seems to surprise her. She shakes it off fast, though. “But I’ll kill you now and take pleasure in it,” she pants out.

“If Scarlett’s so weak, why did Grandmother send her instead of you in the first place?”

The barb hits its mark—Ariadne doesn’t answer, her focus wavering as her anger takes over, and she charges head-on at me.

I let her slam me back into the wall, then jam a hard elbow right into her spine, making her drop me and stagger away. I land a series of sledgehammer strikes that have her reeling back, drawing me further down the hallway.

Ah. She’s just stalling me.

I chuckle as we both regroup. “So you’re here to slow me down, huh?”

Her response is a wordless cry of rage, the fury of her attacks intensifying yet again as she drives me back.

Okay, message received. But now I’m getting impatient. The clock is ticking, and I need to get to Mrs. Graves, then to Grandmother.

And to Scarlett.

I quit holding back and take the opportunity when one of her kicks goes wide, launch into an offensive, blow after calculated blow.

Ariadne falters, stumbling back as I hammer through her defenses. She gives a frustrated growl as she realizes she’s losing ground.

And then she rips something from her belt and hurls it toward me. Thick, choking smoke billows out, engulfing the hallway in an impenetrable gray haze. I cough, backing up fast, the acrid fumes stinging my eyes as I try to track Ariadne’s movements. I hear the unmistakable sound of the fire stairs door slamming shut.

Cursing liberally, I fan the air in a bid to disperse the smoke. Classic Scarlett move—just like the bullshit she pulled during our very first fight.

Scarlett. The thought of her sends a pang through my chest. The rage, the determination I saw in Ariadne…it’s so similar to Scarlett, and just like Scarlett’s first few attacks on me, it felt…

Personal.

But I can’t dwell on that now. I have to keep moving.

I should’ve expected that trick with the smoke bomb. I need to be way fucking smarter about this.

I take a deep breath, cover my eyes with my arm, and run through the smoke with the other hand on the wall to guide me, heading for the elevators again.

The smoke is dispersing now, and the elevators are pretty clear. With a little effort, I manage to force the doors apart and stare down into the shaft, then up into a deep, consuming darkness.

The elevator is above me, because when I turn on the flashlight at my shoulder and lean out into space, I can juuust make out the bottom of the shaft below, and there’s no elevator there.

If the elevator starts coming down while I’m climbing up…

Well. No point thinking about that until or unless it happens. The electricity is off, at any rate, so the odds are decent.

Squaring my shoulders, I grab onto the maintenance ladder and begin to climb, hauling myself upward. Here and there, the ladder cuts out or switches sides, and I have to use the scaffolding of the shaft itself to continue upward. The metal bites into my hands, the strain burning in my muscles—but I don’t let up.

Up above, Mrs. Graves is waiting for me. She’ll know I’m coming, for sure. I’m not going to let her down.

Grandmother is up there, too.

And so is Scarlett.

That thought, in particular, is the one that gets me climbing faster and faster.

CHAPTER 31

Scarlett

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