Miscreants: Next Generation by Natalie Bennett (essential reading .txt) 📗

They hadn’t cleaned this, either.

The sun shined down, casting a haze over bloodied sawdust, making it that much more vivid.

The surrounding bleachers were empty of all but four people who paid us no attention.

An additional four men were inside the arena. Jacob and Tyson. A man I didn’t recognize. And Poet. Both were facing our general direction, their backs to the other two.

“What is this?” I questioned.

“It’s going to determine what I do with you.”

“Like Hannah?”

“Who?”

“The blonde your friend took out of the barn in the middle of the night.”

“That’s my brother.”

“Okay?” I didn’t care what the relation was. I was fishing for some clarity.

She wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so what had they done with her?

“She’s been put to good use,” he jeered, stroking my arm with his thumb.

I didn’t need any further details.

He led me through a solid red gate, and we walked down a slight slope that took us deeper into the arena. I couldn’t think of any reason why I’d be brought here.

Tyson began saying something to the guy he was standing behind; at the same time, Jacob brought a massive blade up to rest against Poet’s throat.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“You see that man by your friend?” Knox asked quietly.

“Yes…”

“I need you to kill em.”

I couldn’t have heard that correctly. “Why would I kill him?”

Knox stopped walking. His grip on my arm tightened. “I can tell you why you’re going to.” I shifted away from him as much as I could, not liking how close he suddenly was to my face. “Because if you don’t, I’m gonna sell your ass to the highest bidder. You’ll be fucked every which way to Sunday until they get tired of your pussy or make you spit out a couple kids.”

“Anything else?”

“That big guy with Jacob is—”

“Poet. His name is Poet.”

“Well, if you lose, Poet’s going to have that blade wedged in his throat.”

He could have led with that. I looked my supposed victim over, seeing him do the same. He was sizing me up. If we were going off size alone, he had me beat, hands down. Tall and stocky, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take him.

I was running off maybe twenty minutes of sleep and hadn’t had anything of substance since leaving the lodging site.

“What happens if I win?”

He resumed his pace. “If you win? Your friend gets to live, and you’ll be staying with me tonight.”

That was a shitty consolation prize. I didn’t want to be anywhere near this sicko. I had to win this for Poet, though. I could never stand by and let something happen to him or Kara.

We got within a few feet of the others and Knox relinquished the hold he had on my arm, giving me a shove in the direction of my opponent.

“Go head now.”

The man immediately began coming towards me without pause. I took a few steps backward and he grinned. I’m sure this seemed like it would be relatively easy from his perspective.

I licked my lips, unsure how to make my first move.

It’d been years since I was told to fight someone like this, and back then it had always been under the supervision of my father. He never shoved me in a freaking arena and told me to battle to the death.

“Let’s go, Kyle,” Tyson yelled, clapping his hands.

Like an attack dog that had just been given a command, Kyle rushed forward. There was less space between us than I’d initially thought. He swung, and his fist made impact with the side of my face. Pain exploded through my jaw.

I stumbled, feeling blood pool in my mouth. I spat it and excess saliva onto the ground while the pieces of shit who’d orchestrated this whooped and hollered, cheering Kyle on.

“You got this, Lils,” Poet called to me encouragingly.

Kyle came at me again, charging like a brazen bull.

There was no way I could take a full-on body hit from him and remain standing. I barely got out of the way in time, side-stepping before we collided.

He’d gotten close enough that I could reach him. I grabbed handfuls of his hair and dragged his head down. My arms felt as if they would pop out of their damn sockets. I ignored the pain and slammed my knee into his face.

This too hurt like hell. The satisfying crack was worth it, though. Kyle tore out of my grip, leaving me with two handfuls of hair. Blood ran from his slightly crooked nose down to his lips. He paid it no attention, swinging at me again.

The air whizzed in front of my face as I dodged it. I squared up and swung back, delivering a solid blow. We circled each other like two wild animals, neither willing to go down easily.

The sun beat down on us, zapping stamina and making this ten times more difficult. From the corner of my eye, I saw something shiny land on the ground a few feet away.

“Dropped something,” Jacob called out flippantly.

The slight distraction cost me. Kyle lunged again, this time taking me down to the ground with him attempting to land on top of me. Pain jolted throughout my body. My head hit the sawdust; teeth sunk into my tongue. I managed to escape being crushed beneath his weight, but he still got hold of me by the legs. His eyes flashed to the object lying in the sawdust.

A knife.

“Give it up, princess,” he taunted with an infuriating smirk.

“You fucking wish,” I snapped.

Clearly, he thought this was over.

No way would this be where my story ended. Not Poet or Takara’s, either.

My blood hummed in my veins as determination and anger