Chapter 43

My cheek stings fiercely.

Instinctively, I bring my hands up to guard my head. There’s the telltale sound of her footsteps retreating a few steps. No doubt, she’s gearing up for another attack.

“Tessa, please,” I beg, blood forming in my mouth. She may be petite, but her hand seems to be carved from stone. “We don’t have to fight.”

“Why don’t we?” Her voice comes from directly in front of me, and I duck just in time to avoid her next assault. “You stole Rion from me, you bitch. I thought we were friends.”

“We are!” I plead. This time, I hear a whoosh of air, but I’m unable to move out of the way in time. Her fist lands in my stomach, pain exploding like fireworks. “This is ridiculous. I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did.” The grief and rage are evident in her voice. For the first time since the fight began, genuine worry tumbles through me, like an intoxicated gymnast. I’m afraid Tessa might actually kill me.

I take an emboldening breath, bracing myself. “And I’m sorry I hurt you. Honestly. I never meant to.”

“Then give me Rion,” she hisses, catching her elbow in my shoulder.

“He’s not something I can just give away,” I protest immediately. “He’s a person with a mind of his own. If he wants to be with you, that’s his choice. I won’t stop him or stand in his way.”

That seems to be the wrong thing to say. She charges forward, a ferocious snarl escaping. She sounds positively feral and unhinged.

“Fight back, bitch!” she screams, slashing at my cheek with her nails.

Something solidifies in my stomach—a sort of resolve. My mind conjures up memories of Cain’s betrayal-laced voice. The pain in Tessa’s eyes when Rion retrieved me from the cafeteria a few days earlier.

And then Man, the last time I was with him. In a desperate bid to escape, I had clawed at his face the same way Tessa clawed at mine.

Am I as bad as Man? Is that why she’s fighting me? Do I deserve this?

I have hurt so many people. I don’t want to become the monster I once hid from.

“No,” I say at last, my voice reverberating throughout the room. The screams and jeers of the crowd become dimmer until they’re merely background noise. I focus entirely on Tessa’s heavy, erratic breathing.

“No?” She pauses mid-assault, the warmth from her hand burning my throat.

“No, I’m not fighting you.” My steel voice rings out clearly. The raucous cheers turn into murmurs of confusion.

“Nina, what are you doing?” Kai roars from the edge of the arena. I ignore him. I ignore everything.

“I’m not fighting you, Tessa. Not over this,” I repeat softly. A second later, her fist connects with my opposite cheek. Pain blossoms as I collapse onto my hands and knees. I feel like a wilted flower that has been trampled on until it’s merely a husk of what it once was.

She takes the opportunity to step on my back, bringing me completely to the ground. Tears cascade down my face, but I refuse to openly sob in front of her and the crowd. The pain is unbearable, agonizing, but I keep my reactions to a minimum. I have dealt with it before, and I’ll deal with it now.

If I were to follow Damien’s training, I would sweep my leg out and knock Tessa off balance. Instead, I keep my face pressed to the icy cement. I have no doubt nasty bruises are now marring my pale face. Fear makes my brain go blank, makes me retreat to the place I used to go as a child. Unlike before, I can’t just hide under a blanket and hope the monsters don’t get me. This is the real world with real monsters, and they don’t only come out at night.

“Fight back!” Tessa screams, grabbing a fistful of my hair, lifting my head up, and then shoving my face back into the ground. A resounding crack echoes around me, and I know my nose is broken.

She waits until I amble back to my feet before attacking me again with renewed vengeance. Each kick, punch, and scratch causes lightning to radiate through my veins.

“I’m. Not. Fighting. You,” I hiss. The crowd has gone eerily silent, as if they’re waiting for something. But what they’re waiting for, I haven’t got a clue. “Take your anger out on me. Give me your pain. I’ll survive it all because you know what? I have lived my entire life in hell. This is child’s play.”

I don’t want to talk about the next few minutes. I don’t want to discuss the agony that crawled up my spine as her foot stomped on it. The pain in my fingers as they were snapped back. The crunch of my nose as she punched me while I huddled in a fetal position on the ground. Kai’s enraged snarl. Bronson’s melancholic howl.

I know pain. Heck, I’m even an expert on it. This is nothing compared to what I’d previously endured.

Unlike the previous times, however, I know I’m going to survive it. For the first time in my life, I have people looking out for me, people who are just as full of shattered glass as I am. They’re painstakingly mending the holes in my body and soul; I’m not whole, but I’m no longer the carcass I once was.

“Enough!” I’m vaguely aware of Kai screaming. “I said, enough, dammit! The fight’s over. It’s fucking over.”

Pain. Pain everywhere. It’s all I’m aware of.

So. Much. Pain.

My eyes are shut, head lolling to the side, as strong arms wrap around me.

“Where the fuck is Cain?” I hear Kai shout.

I open my mouth to confess the truth—that my transgressions have finally caught up to me, killing me—but I’m unable to move. My eyes are swollen shut, and the pain in my ribs threatens to consume me completely.

This is how I’m going to die.

But no. I’m not going to die. Not yet. Not when I still have so many things to live for. First and foremost, I’m a survivor. I always have been. This is just another obstacle I have to hurdle over.

“Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

Screams and shouts pierce my brain from all directions, and I dimly hear someone crying.

It’s the last thing I hear before I succumb to my injuries.