Finally, they reached another iron door that looked identical to the rest. Behind closed doors, though, it was revealed to be a cavernous room, jagged pieces of metal closing in a tight ring where two figures were in a deadly dance, weapons flashing through the air like lightning. Emory recognized Memphis’s flash of blonde hair as he ducked and parried his opponent’s attack. The brute laughed, the laugh booming around the walls, his tattoos gleaming like freshly spilled ink.
Bryd excitedly explained, “We designed this room to test our training. No abilities are allowed; we are stripped bare to our strength and skill.”
Emory gripped her forearms with white knuckles. “So like Gladiators?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Like what?”
Emory murmured, “Never mind.”
“Anyways, they don’t stop until one of them yields, and then they switch out with their partner. In this case, Memphis and Brokk are against Wyatt and Jaxson. Whoever’s team defeats the pair wins along with bragging rights. Which between these four is a bit of a sensitive subject.”
The crowd surrounded the gleaming metal roared in approval when Memphis got Wyatt in a chokehold. Emory curled her lips in disgust; it was barbaric that this was their form of entertainment. Wyatt threw Memphis over his shoulder like a rag doll, and Emory looked away, focusing on the figure standing along the edges, his golden eyes revealing nothing, his bronze hair now freshly buzzed.
Her heart basically dropped into her stomach when he met her gaze and nodded slightly. She looked back to the ring, feeling a blush creep along the back of her neck.
Adrenaline made her hands shake, and dread pooled in her stomach. It didn’t make sense to have such an irrational fear, but there was something about Brokk she couldn’t shake. There had to be a reason she had nightmares about him being a ruthless killer, but she wasn’t about to find out the reason.
Bryd pulled excitedly at her sleeve. “Memphis just yielded so...” She was cut off by the scream of the onlookers now as Memphis leaped over the jagged ring, and Brokk replaced him with ease. It was a lithe grace only a predator would have, and Brokk quickly made Wyatt sweat by engaging in a fast boxing match. Their fists were a blur, each hit calculated and strong.
Bryd continued a personal commentary on the match, but Emory left her new friend alone, making her way to Memphis who was slouched on a bench. Sweat slicked his skin, and his eyes bright and alert as he watched the fight.
“You find this fun?” she asked. Emory’s voice was much curter than she thought, and Memphis looked up at her in question.
Blood trickled down his split lip. He shrugged. “Everything we do here has a reason, even on our off time. It’s encouragement and constant learning that makes us stronger than Adair.”
Her eyes trailed over his toned muscles that were evident under his shirt, her thoughts faltering. He cleared his throat. “You have to remember no one wants it this way. We are dealing with our situation the best way we can.”
With violence.
Blood and vengeance.
Emory’s heart sunk, her own blood running cold. She missed her home, her life. But knowing that all these people have known nothing other than cold iron walls and a constant state of war, that there was no softness here, no escape... Her heart thudded with a new-found determination that there had to be a way to help all of them rebuild their lives.
Looking to Memphis, she spoke softly, “I’m going to call it a night. See you tomorrow?”
Before she could leave, he stood, capturing her hand, lowering his lips to her skin. The kiss was soft and quick, and he locked his eyes blue eyes with hers, whispering back, “I’ve waited six years to hear you say those words. Sleep well, Emory.”
Memphis left her then to her own flustered self, Emory keenly aware that even from the ring, Brokk had his eyes locked on them the entire time.
Emory turned, leaving Bryd to watch the rest of the fight, feeling Brokk’s gaze burning into her back until she was back out in the hallway. Loosening a breath, she made her way back, trying to push both Memphis and Brokk from her thoughts.
***
The next day proved harder than she thought. Black and purple bruises flowered her skin, and her hair was a matted, sweaty mess. She needed a shower. Or ten.
Walking to the small closet, she opened it, being met with an array of black shirts and pants, jackets, one pair of leather boots, and an unnecessary amount of knives all donated by Nyx.
Sighing, Emory looked to the small pile of her possessions from Earth: dirty jeans, a green t-shirt, black high-top Converse, and her iPod that she forgot was in her pocket.
Her stomach twisted as she donned herself in the rebels’ clothes, doing up her boots before opening her door. The hallways were already teeming with rebels. Emory joined the flow, trying to get her bearings and remember where Command was located. She had no idea what time it was, or if she had overslept.
Spotting swirling tattoos, she yelled across the crowd, “Wyatt, wait up!!” Maneuvering through the crowd, she breathlessly met him. “Morning. Where can one grab a shower in this place?”
Crossing his arms, he stood his ground. “Shouldn’t you be with Memphis, preparing?”
“I won’t be any use like this.” Emory stubbornly matched his stance.
He sighed, practically rolling his eyes. “Come on. But you will be fast, and then I will personally take you to Command.”
She wanted to kiss the man.
The showers, it turned out, weren’t too far away from her room, the metallic tones of the room making everything shimmer. Wyatt had been clear; the showers were on a timer. She had fifteen minutes to feel human again.
It was the most blissful shower of her life. Steam curled around her, washing off layers of dirt and
