Reese

ChapterThirty

With the sound of a wheel being turned as metal scrapes along metal, we turn to watch a portcullis rise and walk toward it.

“We’ve got this, guys. I’m strong and quick and damn sneaky when I need to be. So please focus on keeping your own asses safe instead of mine. I will kill you myself if one of you ends up dead,” I warn as Vega chuckles.

We step out into the arena and take in the crowd that has swelled exponentially while we’ve been hidden away. Row upon row of people look down on us, fidgeting with nervous anticipation.

I look up at the throne where Titus is seated and see him watching us, or more so me, as a large screen is raised behind him. It’s too modern for the ancient theme, but I guess if people are paying huge amounts of money to come watch this fight, they’ll want to see it even from the nosebleed seats.

Across the dusty sand and stone on the opposite side of the arena, Deity and her team step out. Vlad has his arm thrown over her shoulders while the other is raised in the air as he plays to the crowd. Kite, Crank, and Butcher focus on us as they make their way over to the halfway point.

Their outfits are similar to ours, only theirs are black, and instead of the skirt and corset ensemble I’m wearing, Deity is in a leather vest and skin-tight pants.

I’d bitch about it, but in truth, I’ll likely have a better range of movement than she will. So what if I flash my underwear?

A gong sounds, making us all glance up to find the source of the noise. Poised not far from Titus is a man with a large gold disk in his hand, looking pleased with himself while Titus looks at him with approval.

I fight to hold back a laugh. A gong? Good God, this man really believes his own hype. I’m starting to think he has a Napoleon complex.

Nobody with a big dick feels the need to use props and ploys to remind the world how manly he can be.

As if sensing my thoughts, Titus looks my way and frowns before climbing to his feet and stepping forward so that his hands rest on the railing in front of him.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Colosseum,” He bellows. His crystal-clear voice rings out across the arena, thanks to the microphone pinned to his lapel.

He waits for the crowd to quiet down before he speaks again. “Tonight will carve out a place in history. My legacy will be etched in stone before I hand the mantle down to the most deserving team.”

He focuses on us as he continues.

“Only one team will survive. The others, well, I’m sure they will give it their best shot. But only the victors will become kings.”

The crowd cheers again as a large cart is wheeled out to the center of the arena.

“Named for their queens, team Deity will choose their weapons first. Team Malice will get the best of what’s left. Good luck, and remember, there can be no winner until the other team is dead.”

He sways before sitting back down on his throne. He waves off Philip, who comes rushing to his aid.

“You sure about this, Mal? They are going to aim to kill right off the bat,” Blink states quietly as Deity and her guys choose their weapons.

“I’m sure. Knock them out if you can, only kill them if it’s a you-or-them situation.”

I watch as Vlad picks up a huge sword and passes it from one hand to another. I can tell by the gleam in his eye he’ll take it. Why wouldn’t he? The sword is gorgeous and a credit to the craftsmen that made it. But watching him move with it tells me it will hinder him since it’s too heavy for his slight frame.

Kite picks a club that looks like an oversized baseball bat while Crank and Butcher both take up medieval-looking maces.

Deity takes two daggers and palms one in each hand. Out of all of them, hers seem to be the smartest choice. She can move just as well with them as she can without. The only downside for her is that she’ll have to be close enough to one of us to engage unless she throws it.

It’s doubtful, though. My girl Dulce can make a shot like that work, but it’s not as easy as it looks. If she missed her mark, then she would be effectively throwing the enemy an extra weapon.

Once they have each chosen their weapon, they all step back, and we move forward to see what’s left.

We’ve practiced with a lot of weapons, not knowing what would be here today. I’m sure I surprise the shit out of the guys when I pick something we didn’t practice with. But there was a reason I didn’t practice with this one. I grab the whip, coil it around my wrist, and step back while the others decide what to take.

When I was a kid, I ran away to the circus. I know that sounds like a punchline for a joke, but it’s true. Obviously, I was returned home to a place that was far less safe than the circus, but that’s irrelevant right now.

What the circus did was spark an interest inside me that I never knew existed before. I was mesmerized by the whole show, convinced that the people were gods after watching the death-defying stunts and tricks.

But there was one act that stood out from the rest. The husband-and-wife duo, Stefano and Petra Ivanof. They did a routine using a whip. I don’t know why it stuck with me, but I was captivated that this huge man could wield this weapon with so much power against the woman he loved, and yet he could control it. He could stop himself from hurting her. All he had to do was make it so. So it’s not a jump as to why I was enamored, but I snuck back to the circus every year they returned. When I was older, Stefano taught me how to wield the whip like he did.