Page 17 of Kortlek

I nod. “Well, Martin Dallas, it was a pleasure knowing you.’’

He raises a brow. That’s when I fist my left hand and aim for his face. At the last moment, he manages to turn his head to the side, and instead of his nose, I hit his jaw. Pain explodes in my knuckles, which is a good sign. If it hurts me, it should hurt him a lot more.

He stumbles back, hissing out in pain and clutching his jaw. I’d say I dislocated it, but since his hand is covering it, I have no way of knowing for sure. Oh, well. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Soon enough, I’ll figure it out.

“You fucking cunt!” He screams out, his speech a little slurred. His eyes twitch whilst he speaks, the pain almost unbearable. It invokes a grin from me, and I can’t help but watch with a happy gleam in my eyes. I did dislocate it.

Good job, Aria.

It’s almost like the fucking moron forgets he’s holding a literal gun in his hand, and instead of using it, he darts straight to me. For good measure, I let him hit me back. He aims for my throat, but I’m not that stupid to let him do anything to my windpipe, and instead he hits my chest with his fist.

I can’t lie; it fucking hurts. He’s definitely stronger than he looks, or it’s maybe the adrenaline thing, given how angry he is. Fury radiates off him as I step backward, cracking my back and pushing my dagger in my boot.

“Come at me, you little bastard. You hit like a little girl,’’ I taunt with a wide smile. I get into the position while making a mental note not to let his gun slip from my view. I’m not sure when his anger will boil over and he’ll decide to just shoot me. Sadly, I’m not bulletproof, and wearing a bulletproof vest seemed like cheating, so I opted against it.

Martin doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he’s running toward me, determination in his long strides. His hands are fisted in front of his face, the gun tucked at the back. Looks like he wants some hand-to-hand combat, which I’m more than happy to give him.

Am I a good fighter? Objectively speaking, I’m mediocre, at best.

But I’m too egotistical to back down. If it means ending up with broken bones, then I’ll have broken bones before I back down. This kind of challenge, this kind of thrill that runs through my veins, is one of a kind. And I’ll be damned if I let the opportunity slip through my hands.

Martin is fast.

He swings his right hand, aiming for my jaw. Looks like the motherfucker wants to return the favor and dislocate my jaw. I don’t let him and lift my arm up. It takes the blow instead of my face, and the impact causes me to involuntarily take a couple of steps back.

He doesn’t give me the time to react before he swings his other hand, this time aiming for my ribs. Unfortunately for me, I’m not the Flash; hence, I don’t have enough time to react before his fist connects to my side.

I gasp for air, the pain spreading through my entire body. The ribs aren’t broken — thank fuck — but it will definitely leave a nasty bruise behind, something I can deal with. Besides, what’s a soldier without a battlefield scar? I’ll look sexy as fuck.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He mocks, then laughs in my face. I make the mistake of lowering my hand down to clutch my side, and that’s when his hand wraps around my throat, slamming me violently against the tree behind us. “Where did that cockiness go, huh? Not so brave now, are you?” He laughs, licking his bottom lip.

His eyes darken a shade, and it’s not what I expected. It’s only then that I remember what kind of people the Kortlek prey are, and it makes me freeze momentarily. By the savage look on his face, it’s not his first time doing this. If anything, he seems confident it won’t be his last time, either.

Rage bubbles inside my stomach, rippling through my body. I clench my jaw as his grip on my throat constricts, the air slowly leaving my body. But I don’t stop fighting. My dagger is in my boot, and the rest of the weapons are proportionally scattered all over my body, too far for me to reach. Instead, I grab his wrist, trying to pry him off me.

“Aw, how cute,’’ he ridicules, his grin reaching his ears. “The brave little doll is now helpless. What should I do with you, hm? Should I get a taste of those sweet lips wrapped around my cock? Or should I fuck you until you’re screaming and begging for me to stop?”

The moment he says that, I can’t stop myself. I raise my knee as high as I can and use all my strength to hit his balls. A loud scream pierces through him, and he releases me, immediately clutching his crotch area. I don’t stop there, though.

Once my feet are back on the ground, I kick his jaw again. I’m pretty sure it’s broken now, and thanks to the metal in the front of my Dr. Marten boots, the next kick draws blood. The sound of his nose breaking fills my ear, blood spilling.

All I can think about is how many women, how many people, he’s told the exact same words as me. How many people suffered at his hand, unable to fight for their lives? Eventually, they were either killed by this fucking bastard or left with life-lasting trauma.

Fury unlike I’ve ever felt before consumes me, and I push him to the ground.

I pull the mask down to my chin, whisk out the dagger from my boot, and fiddle with it. He’s too busy trying to recover, groaning on the ground in pain like the fucking pig he is, to notice that I’m looming over him. The desire to feel his hot blood coat me is something I can no longer suppress.

As I lower down to his level, my free hand grips his hair tightly, yanking his head to look at me. His eyes slightly widen at the murderous expression on my face, and in this moment, I want to see more of it. I want to see him afraid to the point of pissing himself, to the point of begging me to spare his pathetic life.

“Not so brave now, huh?” I hiss, throwing his words back in his face. I slowly move my dagger across his throat. The blade is sharp, and it slightly grazes his flesh, leaving red marks in its trail. If I press more, I’ll draw blood. But I’m leaving that for later. Right now, I want to see him shake from fear.

“Wait,’’ he stammers out, giving me a pleading look. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement, hands shaking as he raises them up. “I didn’t mean it. It was just a harmless joke, y’know? It’s kill or be killed here.’’

A deep, rumbling laugh comes from the depth of my chest. The irony of this situation doesn’t go unnoticed by me, though I keep my focus on him. I slowly move the dagger downward, the shirt with his number tearing under the blade.

“Oh, I love harmless jokes,’’ I humor him. “And I’m about to show you my favorite one.’’

Without any hesitation, I aim my dagger down and pierce through the fabric, going straight through his dick. He immediately screams out in agony, blood gushing out as he tosses and thrashes beneath me. He screeches, wails, and begs for me to stop, but I don’t.

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