Scorpion

What am I about to get myself into?

Secret societies? A day of complete lawlessness? This all sounds well over my pay grade. It isn’t too late for me to back out. Hell, I even helped catch the guy who’d be my substitute in case I decide to tap out.

Still, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve outdone myself this time. The déjà vu is unsettling.

There was another outfit waiting for me on my bed once I got to my room. This time, it’s a crimson lehenga with intricate gold beading and a cream bikini blouse. It’s paired with a matching filigree necklace, earrings, and bangles. All my tattoos are on show again, only this time I have full range of upper body movement, and I can wear a pair of shorts underneath.

After almost eight months working here, Mathijs has finally understood that I prefer form over fashion—though it’ll be difficult to run or climb anything in this skirt.

Swallowing a sigh, I slip into my coat and then head downstairs where Mathijs is talking to Sergei beside a golf cart.

My stomach twists that they both know what my kryptonite is, and we’ve resorted to carting around like children. I’ve tried getting over it countless times over the past month to no avail. Instead, I’ve managed to recognize exactly what my triggers are, which means that limos and sports cars are still on the agenda—it’s a very expensive coping mechanism.

Mathijs rakes his gaze over me with enough heat that I might as well be naked. He’s the most stunning man I’ve ever met, inside and out. Every time I’m around him, I feel seen in a way that I struggle to describe. He’s stuck around despite seeing all my bad parts, and I’ve come to realize that it’s not something I ever want to lose. Wherever he goes, I’m going to follow. There’s no doubt about it in my mind.

He needs me just as much as I need him. I see it now.

Excitement flashes in his eyes. “Ready, Lieverd?”

I scoff nervously. “Are you?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Oh great.

I give him a rueful smile while Sergei climbs behind the wheel of the cart. “It sounds like you might be catching a cold,” I say, giving him a pathetic excuse to get out of tonight. “I’d hate for you to pass it around to your buddies.”

“If only the flu would kill some of them,” Mathijs mutters, then holds me hostage with his stare, silently communicating that the choice is still in my hands.

My throat bobs. “I understand the implications and I want to go.”

Lie. I’m not sure I’m fully aware of what I’m signing up for. But I know that whatever it is, it means that I’m committing myself to this type of life.

He holds out his hand, and I take it without a hesitation. The mindless gesture has him smiling from ear to ear as if we aren’t about to walk into hell, and he’s just a kid getting to hold his crush’s hand. He helps me into the cart like the gentleman he is. Then Sergei starts the little engine before speeding through the property to get to the hangar.

“Chances are that Goldchild knows about tonight. He could see it as an opening to attack our factories. I want double patrols and all hands on deck. Put the men who are meant to travel with us on watch duty at the compound—including you, Sergei,” Mathijs says.

Excuse me?

The head of security and I both jerk toward Mathijs.

“That’ll leave you exposed,” I argue.

Sergei grunts in agreement.

“I’ll have you there,” Mathijs says to me.

“As a guest.” I motion to my clothes. “I’m hardly dressed for a fight, and you told me that no weapons are allowed.”

His eyes drop to the backpack containing the sniper that I brought with me. “There will be security on site, and I need Sergei here if things go south. Goldchild wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack the event.”

I grind my teeth, and I swear the Russian does the same, saying, “We can spare two men to fly with you.”

“Two men, or you won’t make it on the helicopter in one piece,” I threaten. None of us have seen the layout of the perimeter or have complete information on the level of security at this place. There are simply too many risks and moving variables that are worse with the lack of information.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirks. “When you say it like that, I don’t have a choice but to agree.”

Sergei grabs his phone and fires off orders to whoever is on the other line. I jolt in my seat when Mathijs’s hand lands on my knee. His only explanation for the move is a wink. Warmth spreads through my touch-starved body, and I fix my gaze forward since we have an audience. He’s gradually becoming bolder with his touches, and it drives me absolutely wild because I just want him to hold me and smother me with affection, but I can’t find it in me to ask.

Once we arrive at the hangar, Mathijs takes the seat in the cockpit, and an actual pilot sits beside him to play copilot. The discussion regarding security measures and strategy doesn’t end when we’re in the helicopter and no longer on land. The two men sent with us are senior enough that they actually bring something useful to the conversation we’re having. But they mainly stay silent while Mathijs and I talk about Goldchild.

Goldchild is getting restless, which means he’s becoming more ruthless in his approach. This morning, he took out one of our washers. We thought the plan might have been to take out the boss and swallow Mathijs’s operation, but it’s become clear that the plan is to burn the whole organization to the ground with everyone inside.

All cards are off the table now, and we all have free rein on Goldchild’s men, or as Mathijs calls them: target practice.

The flight takes less than an hour, and by the end of it, he looks half tempted to turn around and risk the society’s wrath instead. It’s not exactly a look that fills me with much confidence. The trees bow away from the helicopter and the leaves shake as we descend, and I jolt when we touch the ground.

Much to Mathijs’s disapproval, I help myself out and unbutton my coat as a fine layer of sweat builds down my spine from the eerily warm night. Moonlight glints off the machine behind me. As the rotors slow, music filter between the trees, and the distinct sound of laughter and… crying. My eyes dart across the forest, keeping my ears peeled for bird songs or insects, but there’s nothing but the sound of distant wailing.

I glance back at Mathijs’s approach to gauge if I’m just imagining it. He seems unsurprised by the ominous tone. Even the two men and the pilot who joined us are unfazed by it.

Swell. We might all die tonight.

A shiver works its way through my bones, and I stamp it down. It is too late to back down now.

“Not to alarm you,” Mathijs starts, well and truly alarming me, “but I’m going to need you to wear this.”

He holds up what looks like a black tie, and I take a step back. Any reservations I have about this event doubles. I don’t want to back out of this, but I also don’t want to go in blind. “Why?”

A haunted look passes over his features. “Whatever you think you saw when you were deployed… the real monsters are at home. Put the mask on. Please.”

The regretful burning in his eyes is the only reason I don’t go up in arms over the request. With a deep breath, I nod. He doesn’t relax at my acceptance, but still, he wastes no time in tying the blindfold over my eyes, plunging the world around me into total darkness.The cold sticks to my clammy skin as I try to get my bearings. I trust Mathijs implicitly for all matters that don’t involve his own personal security. The things I do for this man.

“Wait in front of the house,” Mathijs orders the two guards before placing his hand on my lower back and intertwining our fingers with his other, steering me through the forest.

My lungs constrict at the loss of sight, suffocating and sharpening me at the same time. All my other senses heighten with my rising adrenaline. The sounds of the party seem closer, and the crisp air burns through my nostrils, making me notice things I wouldn’t have otherwise. Trust in Mathijs isn’t enough to stop my steps from being uncertain and slow—whether it’s from reluctance or understandable cautiousness, it would be complete idiocy to walk into this mess with full confidence.

As we near, another sound reaches my ears that I didn’t hear before.

I still. “Why are people moaning, Mathijs?”

His harsh breath brushes through my hair, and I shiver. “Pleasure and pain go hand in hand.”

I whip my head toward him even though I can’t see a thing. “What is that supposed to mean?” More importantly, does that involve me?

“We won’t be taking part in those festivities.”

I tense. “Do we need to take part in something?”

“Yes.”

I shove his hands off me and rip off the blindfold. If I’m partaking in whatever the fuck is going on in there, he should have told me beforehand. “Enough of this cryptic crap. You better start talking right now, or so help me god, Mathijs.”

He shifts his weight. “You have two options: join or be sacrificed.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can either choose to carry out the task I set for you so you can prove that you are worthy of being associated with us, or you will die.”

What type of fucked-up bullshit has he dragged me into? Have I not proven myself to these people by keeping Mathijs alive? Did I not kill enough men for these goddamn people?

“Why did you invite me to this, Mathijs?”

“Because I want you in my life, and this is how it’s done. You need to prove you belong by my side, or else they’ll consider you a weak link.”

I swipe my hand over my face and count to ten. “How?”

He takes a deep breath. “You’ve proven it to me before. It’s nothing you aren’t capable of.”

More obscure answers. I take a deep breath and weigh my options. Mathijs wouldn’t have kept me alive and spent so much time with me if he expected me to become sacrificed by the end of it. He’ll do right by me. Whatever that might mean. And I’m willing to do what it takes for the sake of our relationship, and proving to him just how committed I am without actually saying the words.

I make my peace with death every time I wake up and step into potential lines of fire. The only difference this time is that it feels like my fate is in his hands, more than it is in mine.

I hesitate before tying the fabric around my eyes again. I’d risk it all for him. That hasn’t changed. If that needs to be further proven, then so be it. He’s been patient with me while I found my footing again, and I know how I want my future to look.

The air between us is tenser than before, and the slightest hint of something metallic hits the back of my throat. Blood.

Men’s laughter sounds in the distance, followed by more guttural screams that send my nerves into a frenzy. Each noise becomes more distinct the closer we get to the house.

We come to a sudden stop. I hear one of our men behind me pass something to Mathijs. I can make out the sound of a dial spinning right before a set of latches open. Then there’s rustling and a slight grunt. I’m tempted to remove my blindfold again, but something tells me that I don’t want to risk knowing what’s happening. Blissful ignorance sounds more like a dream right now.

Mathijs goes back to guiding me up the slope. The ground shifts from wet earth, to grass, to concrete, and the sounds become clear as day. What I thought might have been one or two people moaning or crying out in pain, sounds like a whole group. A bloodcurdling scream pierces the still night air, and I narrowly manage to stop myself from staggering back.

Mathijs urges me forward, and I get the hint: don’t show weakness.

He helps me up a couple steps, and we reach what must be a security guard standing in front of the entrance because I can just see the tips of their shoes at the bottom of my blindfold.

Two guards at the front, I tally.

Something beeps and the security steps aside to let us in. All the sounds hit me at once, and it’s a physical feat not to cringe away from it. The place smells like carnage and sex. It clogs my throat and a wave of nausea goes through me. I have a feeling the military couldn’t have prepared me for what comes next.

Mathijs ushers me along. All I can see is a sliver of the floor beneath me, shifting from wooden floors to carpet, or a vintage rug. I mentally note how many steps we take before turning left or right. He leads me down a flight of stairs into a basement where the roar of a crowd bounces along the walls. People cheer, yell, boo, and everything in between. Familiarity prickles my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. It sounds like…

Mathijs undoes the tie once we reach the bottom step, revealing the mayhem in front of me. My lips part. It isn’t a basement; it’s a bunker. It has a high ceiling, concrete walls, and hanging lights that are still despite the chaos of the room.

This is a fighting ring.

I turn to Mathijs, but a stag’s skull stares back at me—more specifically, an edelhert. Its horns are dipped in gold, and there’s a golden sheen over the bone. Every person in here is wearing a mask of some sort in either black or white. Only Mathijs’s has any gold on it.

There are more black masks among the crowd, but each one is slightly different. A man passes me wearing a white head of a dragon, another wears a gas mask, and another has a balaclava on. There are several women wearing masks as well, but they’re few and far between.

I spot about eight people whose faces are exposed. I can only assume that they’re guests like me.

Fucking hell, how many people have been dragged here to prove something?

The crowd doubles in volume and my attention snags on the raised platform in the middle of the room. One man has the other in a headlock, then an audible snap that echoes through the room. Then the body falls limp.

Screaming and shouting ensues. The bloodlust in the air is palpable, turning my stomach inside out. It’s been far too long since I’ve been to something like this.

Mathijs’s hand remains firm at the small of my back. Footsteps behind us make me turn, ready to step in front of him, but I stop short when another man wearing a golden mask appears before us.

The man tips his head down at Mathijs who returns the gesture. A silent understanding goes between them that I can’t translate. Then he glances at me for a second too long before walking back up the stairs like nothing happened.

“You want to know what your task is?”

My head snaps up to meet Mathijs. His eerie mask makes it impossible to read how he’s feeling.

A battle cry sounds from the middle of the room.

He wants me to fight.

I swallow. “When?”

He trails his finger along my cheek.

Mathijs solidified my strength these past months—both physically and mentally since I haven’t felt pain in my foot for so long. Even at the prospect of dying in the ring, I’d still do it all for him. Lose it all.

My agreement to do this isn’t just for him or some society. It’s a chance for me to prove to myself how far I’ve come from the person who only fought for the high and some cash. There’s something bigger than myself, and I have every intention of being part of it.

“Once you’re ready,” Mathijs says in answer.

“Lead the way.”

Even though I want to reach for him and seek comfort in his touch, I let him navigate us through the crowd and through a set of doors that takes us to the bottom floor. He opens the locker room for me, and I take a wary step inside. It’s similar to many other underground places I’ve been to, only it’s actually clean.

On the bench in the middle of the room is a duffle bag containing everything I might need for the fight; a mouth guard, wraps, even clothes. With a single finger, I raise the sports bra in the air.

It’s simple, black, and in my size.

I glare at Mathijs and his edelhert mask. He planned every step of this and banked on my agreement. What would have happened if he had brought Goldchild’s man instead? Would he be standing where I am, or would he be one of the screams I heard upstairs?

I don’t appreciate that he didn’t tell me all the information so I could go into this with my eyes wide open. But I understand why he kept it from me. I would have lost sleep thinking about what I was about to do, and thrown myself back into the past where I was looking forward to a fight just to get my kicks. Given the option to change his tactics, I’d ask that he does the same.

He closes the distance between us and cups my cheek. “You can get ready here. No one will bother you. I have to organize some things, and someone will get you once it’s time.”

His voice is a hoarse whisper, there’s no doubt for what’s next. He isn’t holding on to me like it might be the last time he can do it. Rather, he’s sending me a message with his tender touch.

“I believe in you, Lieverd.”

I nod stiffly, but grasp his wrists like I don’t want to let him go even though I know I have to. We stand there for what could be hours, with me, staring up at his masked face. When he finally turns to leave, the silence becomes deafening.

Steeling my spine, I start the preparation process of changing into clothes I can move in. I bind both my hands with tape and a wrap, then begin my warm-ups.

My mind threatens to take me back to all the years I spent in places like this, but I manage to stay in the present. That was a different life with different circumstances. I have a support structure now and someone I care about, who cares for me in return. But fuck if it isn’t nerve-wracking.

A knock rattles the door once half an hour passes. “They’re ready.”

My heart rate skyrockets. The surge of adrenaline is heady and addicting. It rings in my ears and makes my muscles coil. The anxieties I felt earlier are dull beneath the electricity thrumming in my veins.

“Give me a minute,” I call out.

Tentatively, I reach for my purse and grab the dog tags and Gaya’s pendant inside. The gold coin is cool against my lips, and for a second, I let myself imagine that she’s still here, sitting at home waiting for me to return. With a fleeting glance at my dog tags, I place them both back in the bag and hide it in one of the lockers.

I catch myself in the reflection and almost don’t recognize myself like this. Every other time I’ve looked in a grimy mirror in an abandoned parking lot or warehouse, I hated what I saw. An emotion bubbles in my chest—something akin to pride. There’s meat and muscle on my bones, color in my skin, and light in my eyes.

I bite into the mouth guard, then rip the door open. A man with a black mask leans against the concrete wall, waiting for me. The buzzing in the air adds to the energy pulsing through me as we reach the main room.

I’m going to kill a man tonight.

I might even smile while I do it.

I’ll break bones and spill my own blood. Still, only one of us is walking out alive.

My mother wanted a son, but she got something far worse.

Me.

The door opens and the roar of the crowd slams into me, making me soar three feet higher. Mathijs steps onto the platform and holds up a hand. In an instant, the room descends into silence.

I stay standing in front of the door, studying the crowd. On the opposite side of the room is a man I recognized from earlier. One of the guests. He has to be over six foot three, all arms and legs with lean muscles. Our eyes clash as we size each other up.

“Two more of our guests will enter this ring tonight. One will live,” Mathijs’s voice booms through the bunker. “Prey becomes predator, and the only gift is their life. Only the strongest survive within the Exodus, and survival is our biological incentive.” I can picture him grinning beneath his mask, basking in all the attention. “But is it not the day of the Reckoning? Do we not want a show?”

People whistle and yell their agreement, and the anticipation of the crowd builds to near boiling.

“As a token of my appreciation for the caliber of guests you have all brought tonight, the winner will receive a four-hundred-thousand-dollar prize.”

Goosebumps rain over my flesh and I stare daggers into my boss. How much more shit is this guy keeping from me? Is not dying going to be enough of a prize?

Also, what the fuck am I meant to do with four hundred thousand dollars? I’m a live-in guard whose chosen mode of transport is a motorbike I practically built myself. Actually, I’ll give half of it to Amy and the other half to TJ’s family. They need it more than I do.

Mathijs points toward my opponent. “To my right, we have Justin MacMillan.” The crowd’s reaction is mediocre at best. “He’s been vying for a place amongst our ranks for years. Tonight, he’ll prove to us if he’s worthy to be part of the Exodus.”

The lackluster applause must infuse Justin with enough confidence, since he looks at me smugly then puffs his chest out and practically swaggers up to Mathijs’s side. Oh, spare me a break. Countless hopeful recruits have stared me down and challenged me just because they’re a head taller and I have a vagina.

Pretty boy over there hasn’t seen war. I doubt he’s ever killed someone before. Still, he’s lithe enough to be considered a threat due to his strength and speed alone. It’s only a matter of finding out whether his arrogance is founded or fuel from his ego.

Mathijs raises his hand once more to stop the few people screaming their support for the rookie.

“To my left, my guest.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and everyone turns my way. “The Deathstalker.”

There’s no cheer. Not a single whistle. The silence is so deadly, I’d be able to hear a pin drop. I’ve had reactions like this before because most wouldn’t be able to imagine a woman stepping into the ring. Let alone against another man.

I stalk forward, avoiding eye contact with anyone but Justin. Men and women part for me. Their masks stare blankly, and their whispers feather over me.

The cockiness wipes off his face the closer I get, and the line of his shoulders tighten as he takes me in. Justin finally sees me for what I am.

A threat.