“Absolutely,” replied the mamba. “I’ve been told that a punch from Camden is like being hit by Thor’s hammer.”
“He’ll end it soon,” said Aspen. “He gets bored when they don’t fight back.”
Havana nodded. “Grant hasn’t got much left in him. He’s weaving all over the place.”
“I’m not surprised, given how much blood he’s lost,” said Tate. “And after all the vicious blows to the head he’s taken, he’s probably feeling a little dazed.”
“I think his eardrum has burst,” said James. “He has blood coming out of his ear.”
Squinting, Aspen saw that James was indeed right.
Stepping back, a heavily panting Grant took a moment to wrench his dislocated shoulder back into place. His friends shouted encouragements at him; told him to “knock the fucker down” and “you got this.” Which was stupid, because he didn’t have this at all.
He stood taller and took a long breath, as if digging deep to find a surge of strength. Then he charged. He executed some sort of fancy, grappling move and managed to get Camden in a headlock.
“Uh-oh,” said Bailey. Because, like Aspen, she knew what the tiger would do.
“Uh-oh?” echoed Luke. “Why uh-oh?”
Camden unsheathed his claws and sliced the enforcer from wrist to elbow. He then grabbed the guy’s ring finger, but he didn’t bend it backward. He bent it sideways and—snap.
Camden’s upper body shot forward. The momentum flipped Grant over, and he landed hard on his back with an oof. “Stay down,” Camden advised him.
It was good advice. Grant was a literal mess at that point. He honestly just looked pitiful. His eyes were swollen, his lip was split and fat, his cheekbone was shattered, there was a gaping cut above his eye, and his body … good God, it was covered in bruises, puncture wounds, deep slashes, and swellings.
She’d heard several bones crack throughout the duel, so he had to be in some serious pain. It truly was better for him to submit. But—making him both brave and stupid—he tried getting to his feet.
Camden stomped on Grant’s hand, and more bones snapped. “Stay. Down.”
Snarling, Grant whipped up his leg. Camden caught it, held it up straight, and sharply twisted. Another snap.
James’s head jerked back. “Jesus. What sadist trained him?”
“Not sadist, genius,” Valentina corrected.
Camden punched the side of the enforcer’s knee, dislocating it. Crying out in agony, the enforcer rolled onto his side and hovered a hand around his wounded knee.
James snorted at Valentina. “No, I’m going with ‘sadist.’”
Tate rubbed at his nape. “I don’t think Grant will be getting up again.”
Neither did Aspen. The pallas cat had pretty much melted into the ground, panting and sweating and shaking. He looked like he had nothing left in him.
Camden, on the other hand … well, he wasn’t so much panting as just breathing a little heavier than usual. There was a fine sheen a sweat on his forehead, but that was all. He looked as though he could easily go a few more rounds, even with his many injuries. None were anywhere near as severe as Grant’s, but the tiger had to be hurting right now.
“Do you submit?” Camden asked the enforcer, staring down at him.
Grant squeezed his eyes shut.
“Do you submit?”
Again, the pallas cat didn’t respond.
One of Grant’s friends stepped forward. “He submits.”
Grant shot Tim a glare, but he didn’t object. He stayed on the ground, making no attempt to rise.
“Look at me,” said Camden.
Grant grudgingly did so, his eyes full of such hatred it almost took her breath away.
“If you ever try to hurt Aspen again—directly or indirectly, by word or by deed—I will fucking end you,” Camden said, cold and matter-of-fact. “Don’t think those are empty words. They’re not. I don’t say what I don’t mean. And it would not bother me one bit to live up to that threat.” With that, he gave the enforcer his back and stalked off.
Eying the tiger with respect and a healthy dose of apprehension, the crowd parted to let him through.
Camden dipped his hand into Bailey’s bag of popcorn, tossed a handful into his mouth, and then turned to Aspen. “Let’s go.”
“You really should reconsider joining my ranks,” Tate said to him, watching Camden with renewed interest.
“Not my thing.” Camden took Aspen by the wrist. “Come on.” He guided her to the rear door.
A pallas cat, Sam, slipped into their path and gave Camden a wan smile. “You fought good, and you won, but he’s done some damage to you. Let me heal you before you go.”
“The wounds will heal on their own pretty fast.”
Aspen crossed her eyes. “Don’t get all macho and refuse help, you big goof. Let him heal you.”
Camden let out a long, suffering sigh. “Fine.”
Sam touched his arm, sending a surge of crackling energy into Camden’s body that shot to each injury. Soon, every one of them was gone.
Camden gave him a nod of thanks and then looked down at Aspen. “Happy now?”