Page 69 of Gladiator's Captive
Rager and Sayk were dead men, no matter who won the fight.
“See them bleed!” Wylder opened his arms like he wanted to embrace the crowd. “And may the worthy one survive!”
The crowd erupted in a wild, deafening mixture of cheers and hoots, insults directed at Rager and Sayk and praises for Wylder and his loyal soldiers. One of Wylder’s soldiers walked in the circle of sand, throwing down weapons in front of the gladiators: a long, thin sword for Sayk and two short, curved blades for Rager. A metallic clicking sound preceded the shackles opening, falling to the sand, unattended.
More cheers, more jibes and hoots.
Rager turned slowly to face Sayk, but not before his eyes stopped on me. For just a second he was the Muharib general, honorable and proud, the man I had come to love more than life itself.
Then he turned away from me and his gaze settled on Sayk. Both men bent, picking up their weapons from the sand, their gazes hard and unwavering. The crowd was a wild, rabid animal, hatred and bloodlust spilling in the air like a poison.
The fight began.
Rager and Sayk moved with beautiful, almost poetic motions. Grace lined the deadliness of their movements, from Sayk’s single long and thin sword to the twin curved blades in Rager’s hands. The clinking of metal on metal rose above the shouts of the crowd as they fought, equally matched in skill and strength.
I had no idea who was the superior fighter, who was going to win and who was going to die.
It didn’t matter.
Janet sat on the edge of her seat at my side, her knuckles red from all the rubbing, her lower lip bleeding as she bit it repeatedly. Then blood spilled as Rager’s sword grazed Sayk’s muscular arm.
At my side, Janet sobbed, the sound almost drowned by the cacophony.
Just in front, my father chuckled. At his side, Wylder laughed, slapping his thighs with his open palms, enjoying the moments before blood was let. Before bodies were maimed and lives destroyed forever.
Looking at them both, my entire body filled with hatred.
They had won on every level. And Janet and I lost all we cared about. Rage flowed in my veins, cold as ice and just as deadly. Wylder and my father might be powerful men, but they had discounted one thing.
I had nothing left to lose. And a woman who had nothing left to lose was a dangerous one. A woman who had nothing left to lose was a woman who could do things no one had predicted.
And just like that, I decided that my life was not worth living if Rager ceased breathing.
Chapter Thirty-Three
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