The Final Strife

“That’s fifty.”

“As we agreed.”

“But I won.”

“Did you? I thought it was a mistake?” Loot took out a pipe and lit it.

Sylah took the slabs, the smooth stones cool on her skin. She turned to leave.

“Oh, and Sylah, don’t come back to the Ring.” His words hit her harder than Lazo’s punch. Fayl stood to the side, his gaze purposely turned away, but she saw the bloodink on his arms swell as he clenched his muscles.

“What?”

“You’re finished here.”

“But what do I do now?” Her words were quiet. Desperate.

“You keep smiling, Sylah.”