Page 56 of Scorpion

On the bench in the middle of the room is a duffle bag containing everything I might need for the fight; a mouth guard, wraps, even clothes. With a single finger, I raise the sports bra in the air.

It’s simple, black, and in my size.

I glare at Mathijs and his edelhert mask. He planned every step of this and banked on my agreement. What would have happened if he had brought Goldchild’s man instead? Would he be standing where I am, or would he be one of the screams I heard upstairs?

I don’t appreciate that he didn’t tell me all the information so I could go into this with my eyes wide open. But I understand why he kept it from me. I would have lost sleep thinking about what I was about to do, and thrown myself back into the past where I was looking forward to a fight just to get my kicks. Given the option to change his tactics, I’d ask that he does the same.

He closes the distance between us and cups my cheek. “You can get ready here. No one will bother you. I have to organize some things, and someone will get you once it’s time.”

His voice is a hoarse whisper, there’s no doubt for what’s next. He isn’t holding on to me like it might be the last time he can do it. Rather, he’s sending me a message with his tender touch.

“I believe in you, Lieverd.”

I nod stiffly, but grasp his wrists like I don’t want to let him go even though I know I have to. We stand there for what could be hours, with me, staring up at his masked face. When he finally turns to leave, the silence becomes deafening.

Steeling my spine, I start the preparation process of changing into clothes I can move in. I bind both my hands with tape and a wrap, then begin my warm-ups.

My mind threatens to take me back to all the years I spent in places like this, but I manage to stay in the present. That was a different life with different circumstances. I have a support structure now and someone I care about, who cares for me in return. But fuck if it isn’t nerve-wracking.

A knock rattles the door once half an hour passes. “They’re ready.”

My heart rate skyrockets. The surge of adrenaline is heady and addicting. It rings in my ears and makes my muscles coil. The anxieties I felt earlier are dull beneath the electricity thrumming in my veins.

“Give me a minute,” I call out.

Tentatively, I reach for my purse and grab the dog tags and Gaya’s pendant inside. The gold coin is cool against my lips, and for a second, I let myself imagine that she’s still here, sitting at home waiting for me to return. With a fleeting glance at my dog tags, I place them both back in the bag and hide it in one of the lockers.

I catch myself in the reflection and almost don’t recognize myself like this. Every other time I’ve looked in a grimy mirror in an abandoned parking lot or warehouse, I hated what I saw. An emotion bubbles in my chest—something akin to pride. There’s meat and muscle on my bones, color in my skin, and light in my eyes.

I bite into the mouth guard, then rip the door open. A man with a black mask leans against the concrete wall, waiting for me. The buzzing in the air adds to the energy pulsing through me as we reach the main room.

I’m going to kill a man tonight.

I might even smile while I do it.

I’ll break bones and spill my own blood. Still, only one of us is walking out alive.

My mother wanted a son, but she got something far worse.

Me.

The door opens and the roar of the crowd slams into me, making me soar three feet higher. Mathijs steps onto the platform and holds up a hand. In an instant, the room descends into silence.

I stay standing in front of the door, studying the crowd. On the opposite side of the room is a man I recognized from earlier. One of the guests. He has to be over six foot three, all arms and legs with lean muscles. Our eyes clash as we size each other up.

“Two more of our guests will enter this ring tonight. One will live,” Mathijs’s voice booms through the bunker. “Prey becomes predator, and the only gift is their life. Only the strongest survive within the Exodus, and survival is our biological incentive.” I can picture him grinning beneath his mask, basking in all the attention. “But is it not the day of the Reckoning? Do we not want a show?”

People whistle and yell their agreement, and the anticipation of the crowd builds to near boiling.

“As a token of my appreciation for the caliber of guests you have all brought tonight, the winner will receive a four-hundred-thousand-dollar prize.”

Goosebumps rain over my flesh and I stare daggers into my boss. How much more shit is this guy keeping from me? Is not dying going to be enough of a prize?

Also, what the fuck am I meant to do with four hundred thousand dollars? I’m a live-in guard whose chosen mode of transport is a motorbike I practically built myself. Actually, I’ll give half of it to Amy and the other half to TJ’s family. They need it more than I do.

Mathijs points toward my opponent. “To my right, we have Justin MacMillan.” The crowd’s reaction is mediocre at best. “He’s been vying for a place amongst our ranks for years. Tonight, he’ll prove to us if he’s worthy to be part of the Exodus.”

The lackluster applause must infuse Justin with enough confidence, since he looks at me smugly then puffs his chest out and practically swaggers up to Mathijs’s side. Oh, spare me a break. Countless hopeful recruits have stared me down and challenged me just because they’re a head taller and I have a vagina.

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