Apollo fell into the arena with a desperate cry, breaking the wild cat’s focus as he scrambled to his knees, bleeding heavily into the puffy white beard. Clover was so shocked he didn’t immediately realize what the spectators who remained in the amphitheatre chanted, but it was Boar’s arena nickname.
“Red Bear! Red Bear! Red Bear!”
Boar’s face replaced the lion on the huge screen, and he raised his hands in a gesture of triumph, screaming out his rage. He only stopped reacting to the crowd’s enthusiasm when Drake grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the back of the box, to the open exit.
The lion leapt before Clover’s eyes, but as it descended on Apollo, going straight for his neck, even Tank let go of Clover, staring at the pool of blood spreading through the sand. It was like seeing a cut scene from a movie. It didn’t belong in the script yet felt more satisfying that the real ending. There was no life left in Apollo as the lion finally got to have its feast.
Clover might have heard bits of applause, but he stopped thinking when a shot echoed through the arena, and the lion went limp on top of his prey.
“Ben! Stop, listen to me,” Tank screamed out, but the man whom Drake had attacked using the rifle as a melee weapon jumped into the arena like a rabid predator who no longer cared for his life.
The fresh blood drizzling from the wound on his head enveloped one of his eyes in a red frame that hypnotized Clover even when the bastard rose to his feet and pointed his gun straight at him.
A scream tore from Clover’s lips when he realized what was about to happen, but he didn’t get to see the gun fire because a body clashed with him from the side and knocked him into the sand. The weight of the other man forced air out of his lungs, but when he rolled his head to the side in an effort to breathe, his gaze caught Tank smashing his fist into Ben’s face. The gun shot into the sand next, but once Tank got his arms around Ben’s head, the bastard’s fate was sealed.
The body on top of Clover gave a very Pyro-like grunt before rolling off to reveal a familiar face.
“Jesus,” Pyro mumbled before raising his body to look at something and dropping his head back again. “Fuck.”
Clover sat up, his head still spinning from the shock of impact, but all worries he might have had about the state of his ribs dispersed into nothingness when he saw blood seep through Pyro’s slacks.
“No. You’re bleeding,” he uttered helplessly, unsure whether he should touch the bleeding thigh or wait.
Pyro gave a raspy laugh, and his hand found Clover’s wrist, squeezing it gently. One of his tattooed eyebrows was now visible where the makeup had been wiped off, and his trademark grin was back in place. “It’s not a movie, so I wasn’t wearing a gift from you in that place for protection. Of course I’m bleeding.”
Tank sank next to them with worry twisting his face. “Shit,” he whispered but didn’t hesitate and unbuckled his belt. Clover’s heart thrashed in his chest like a trapped bird struggling to leap outside and get help for Pyro, but he could only hold his hand while Tank turned the belt into an impromptu tourniquet.
“You literally fought a lion for me. You shouldn’t have,” Clover whimpered as tears filled his eyes, but Pyro laughed in response.
“Clo, don’t do that. Your eyes will go red, and you’ll look like a rabbit.”
Clover wanted to snap back, even though he might have been dead already if it hadn’t been for Pyro, but something creaked behind him, and he looked over his shoulder, awaiting another attack.
The door that had previously released many of the fighters and victims of the arena opened wide, and Boar bolted their way at a speed Clover had never seen him reach. He was still in shock when Boar kneeled next to them and touched Pyro’s injured leg. His face went pale as death despite Pyro rubbing his hairy forearm with a smile.
“Don’t worry. Tank says I’ll live,” he told Boar, even though Tank had said no such thing.
Tank met Clover’s gaze above Pyro, but they all hunched their shoulders when shots once again echoed throughout the emptying arena. One swipe over the galleries above was enough to see three guards fall.
“We have company. Let’s go,” Drake called out from the open door.
Hesitation was a distant memory. Tank hauled Pyro to his feet and helped him onto Boar’s back, as if they’d rehearsed this move many times. Clover dragged himself up, still unable to comprehend everything that happened. There was just one thing he knew—they needed to get out of there.
Even as Tank pulled on his hand, Clover once more looked back at the corpse of the man who’d spent his life orchestrating the suffering of others. Clover’s only regret was that the lion had to die as well. He would have much preferred to watch Apollo being eaten alive. But what counted most was that this chapter in their lives was now closed. Apollo would rot, and with him, all the cruelty he’d enforced on others.