Page 64 of White Horse Black Nights

She says evenly, “I want to watch.”

Fucking gods. This woman.She gets my heartbeat pounding and my blood throbbing. She’s going to be the death of me.

I have to tear myself away from her when one of the lugs—who must be Bertine—hurtles the cast iron pan across the room at me. I throw open the cabinet door to block it, and it clatters to the floor. Bertine runs at me, but I dive under the table to dodge him, crawl beneath it, and then snatch up a chair on my way up from the other side. Swinging it by the back, I smash it into Bertine’s head. It clips him in the skull, sending him to the ground, unconscious.

My blood sizzles in delight to see him fall.

Iskander throws a punch, but I catch his arm and use his momentum to sling him toward the stove. His head smashes into it. Maks leaps over the fallen man to try to get to Sabine in the sheltered nook, but I grab a coil of leftover rope from when they bound her wrists, spin it into a quick lasso, and let it fly. It snags his raised right foot as he runs. I pull taught hard enough to yank him to the ground.

I whistle to get Myst’s attention. She whinnies from the doorway, tossing her head. I throw the rope’s end to her. She picks it up with her teeth, then stomps backward to drag the struggling Maks across the floor. His hands flail to find purchase. He screams for help.

Myst rears, then brings down her hooves on the wriggling man’s chest. There’s a bone-shattering crack. A sickening squelch. His breath goes silent.

Bees buzz relentlessly, leaving the remaining three raiders flinching under their stings, but the swarm leaves me alone.

I check on Sabine with a quick glance, my throat bobbing.

Adan, still with that damn axe, and Bertine, bleeding from a head wound, rush me simultaneously. Time for my knife. I wait until the last moment to draw it, then slide it out with one smooth movement and stab it straight into Bertine’s chest. The man buckles, his eyes bulging. Blood pours down to coat my hand as I chuckle low—but when I try to pull the blade out to turn it on Adan, something’s wrong.

The goddamn blade is stuck in his ribs.

Cursing, I tug it again, but it doesn’t want to come free. Bertine gurgles as blood fills his mouth. I try twisting the blade. No use.

With Adan rushing me with the axe, I go to my backup plan. I spin Bertine around as a shield just as Adan slams down the axe. Its blade lodges in the cleft between Bertine’s shoulder and neck, hacking a slice all the way down to the man’s ribcage.

Horrified, Adan releases his hold on the axe, stumbling backward.

I also release my hold on Bertine, and he falls, dead.

Bees swarm on Adan’s face, raising red welts, but he’s numb to them as the horror of his accidental kill dawns on him.

It’s the perfect opportunity to punch his pretty fucking face. I land a hook square on his jaw, then follow up with a cross punch to his stomach. Adan’s attention snaps back to the fight, ducking and weaving to avoid my next hook punch. But I predict his intention with my heightened vision, and grab him by the arm so I can throw a jab to his nose that sends him crashing to the floor.

He recovers fast—and grasps the axe.

He swings it in a sweep toward my ankle, but I see it coming and jump over the blade. Then, I stomp on its flat side, pinning the weapon to the floor and Adan’s hand with it. Groaning in pain, he has no choice but to release it.

Before I can land a downward kick on Adan’s head, Iskander comes to by the stove. He heaves pieces of firewood at me with all his strength. I block each one, but it’s a distraction, and Adan manages to crawl away.

Iskander heads for Sabine in the nook, and I see red. But before I can stop him from getting to her, Adan hooks my ankle with his own. He wraps his legs around my ankle, pinning me. A furious growl roars out of me.

He’s going to fuckingbleed.

Before Iskander can get to her, Sabine darts out of the nook and dives for Bertine’s body. She wrenches my knife out of his ribs, the blade slickened and worked loose by his deflated chest, and stabs Iskander in the belly just as he reaches her.

Right in the soft organs—just where I taught her.

I’m so fucking proud.

I kick Adan off me with a yowl, and take the knife from Sabine. With one quick jerk, I slit Iskander’s throat, finishing the job. His body slumps against the cabinet.

Blood coats Sabine’s face and hair. Her hands shake—it’s the first time she’s stabbed a man. Little noises squeeze out of her throat. She looks up at me with an indescribable sea of disbelief in her eyes, and I’m drowning, I’m drowning, I’m drowning . . .

From the corner of my eye, I spot Adan lumber toward the door.

I peel away from Sabine with a growl. It’s time to finish this fucker. Luckily, Myst is on the same page as me. We make a good team, that crazy mare and me. She snorts loudly, stamping her hooves, preventing him from leaving.

Driving him right back to where I want him. The rope attached to Maks’s corpse spans the cottage floor. I slice off a length and come up behind Adan, wrapping it around his neck. His hands fly to the rope, trying to free it while he struggles for air. I drag him to the same chair he imprisoned Sabine in, shoving him down. Looping the rest of the rope around him, I secure him to the chair and finally release the hold on his neck.

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