Page 27 of Gambit
I nod, and we break into a run, closing the distance. As we approach, I can see the glint of chains, the flash of metal from makeshift weapons. These guys mean business.
The fight is brutal and direct. There’s no room for finesse here. Raph takes down one with a swift punch to the throat, and James uses his body like a weapon, throwing opponents off balance and onto the ground. Getting straight down to it, I grab a girl by her hair and slam her face into my knee. Blood spurts from her nose, but there’s no time to watch her fall; I’m already moving to the next threat.
“Castle is ours!” I shout, my voice hoarse with fury as I kick a guy in the chest, sending him sprawling back into his friends.
The fight is a blur of motion, all unrestrained energy and survival instincts. We are the wave crashing on Blackbriar’s party, relentless and fierce.
“Back off!” I yell as another asshole comes at me.
“Not a chance,” he snarls and throws a punch that connects and sends me stumbling.
“Oh, you’re dead,” I growl as I balance out and clench my fist, sending it flying into his gut before I spin and knock him in the head with a roundhouse kick. “Want to try that again, twatface?”
Then I’m surrounded and in the thick of it, my fists are my words, each punch a sentence in a brutal dialogue. Elbows and knees write the punctuation as I fight through a swarm of Blackbriar thugs. Tarq swings a blade ruthlessly next to me, Raph’s got our backs, dropping anyone who gets too close. Oliver smashes some guy’s face in relentlessly, and James throws a guy over his shoulder like he’s nothing but a sack of spuds.
“Eliza Hughes!” A voice cuts through the noise, unfamiliar and cocky, an Irish accent lilting his words.
I turn, ready to throw down with whoever dares call my name in the middle of this mess. A dark-haired guy covered in tats with ice blue eyes is a tower of muscle with a smirk that could start a war. Beside him, a girl twirls a bat with nails sticking out, looking like she’s just stepped out of a twisted carnival, her long dark hair somehow still immaculate in waves around her, despite her split lip where someone got a punch in.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, not dropping my guard for a second.
The guy cracks his knuckles, eyes glinting with malice as he slips a knuckleduster on that makes me envious it’s not mine and also a bit fucking wary. The spikes coming out of that thing will put an eye out. “Name’s Cian Gannon, love.”
I glare at him.
Gannon.
The name triggers alarms in my head.
Family.
Blood.
Trouble.
“And you,” he continues pointing at me with his dusted hand, “are my long-lost cousin.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” the girl says, her grin wicked as she swings her bat into someone, I can’t deny, dumb enough to go for her, sending him crashing to the ground.
“And you are?” I spit out.
“Victoria Stroud.”
“Stroud.” I raise an eyebrow at the extremely familiar and influential name she just threw at me. “Killian Stroud your dad?”
“The one and only,” she replies, swinging her bat in a wild circle.
“Yeah, well, my dad hates your dad and wants him dead. If I kill you, that makes this a family thing, yeah?”
She laughs, and it’s a gloriously insane sound. If I didn’t hate her, I’d fucking love her. “Try it, bitch.”
“Now, now,” Cian interrupts, all casual like this isn’t about to be a fight to the death. “Sorry about the dramatic entrance,” he says, almost cheerfully, as chaos reigns around us, “but I like to make an impression.”
“By attacking my campus?” I spit out.
“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Cian grins, unfazed, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip and then sucking it off his finger.
“Next time, send a text,” I snarl, my heart racing with fury as I watch him, waiting for his next move.
