She yelped in pain and frustration. The pain in her arm searing as her muscles and tendons were forced into unnatural angles.
Frantic, she struggled only to feel her body begin to break under his torturous grip. She stilled panting through the pain, on her knees while Arkdone released an inhuman howl of delight over her.
“You have no choice, little Megglet, champion of the Winter Clan,” he mocked. “Admit defeat now and I may make this a little less painful for you.” Arkdone’s wet breath trickled venom down her neck as he leaned even heavier against her contorted arm.
White-hot pain scorched her body. She forced herself to think past it. “This isn’t over!” she growled defiantly.
“Of course it is,” he shook his head in mock pity. “Don’t you understand your part in all this?”
Meg’s mind franticly searched for a way out.
The pounding of weapons against the ground quickened to a frenzied pace as the crowd grew impatient. Arkdone ignored them.
“Ah, but maybe you’re just not bright enough to have grasped the big picture. After all, you are just the sacrificial lamb,” he cooed in mock disappointment and shifted his hold on her arm to exact pressure on her ring finger and snapped it.
The scream was at her throat faster than she could stifle it.
“But go ahead and bleat, little lamb. You’ll lose your voice before I’m through. I have no intention of making your death quick—”
Snap
“—or painless.”
Meg’s head hung slack from her shoulders. Her breathing was as erratic as her heartbeat.
She took a moment to steel herself.
Tortured emotions and physical agony spun out of control inside the girl forced to her knees surrounded by jackals—until she felt him.
Creed.
Her family.
Just minutes away.
No!
Meg screamed above the chaos in her mind.
Clarity blanketed her. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder, locking eyes with her tormentor.
“This little lamb is not afraid of pain.” She yanked her body toward the pain of Arkdone’s unrelenting hold and snapped her own arm to escape.
Arkdone lost his balance and staggered aside, giving Meg enough time to jump to her feet. She leaped into the air and grabbed the Senator’s neck between her ankles. Her body continued its powerful spin, dragging Arkdone down to the ground, Meg’s knee crushing the side of his head at an impossible angle. Her one good hand stabbed the pressure point behind his exposed ear. Her left arm hung broken from her shoulder—a useless chunk of flesh and bone ignored.
“Checkmate,” she hissed shifting the weight to her knee exerting pressure powerful enough to snap his neck.
The audience gasped in disbelief as a knife thumped to the dirt beside Arkdone’s hand. All eyes retraced its path to its origin. Dr. Kenneth Williams’ smile was clearly insane, his hand still extended having just thrown the weapon into the match.
“More blood!” he squealed. “I want more blood!” His laughter echoed off the stunned expressions of the previously chanting soldiers.
Arkdone didn’t need to wait another second. His fingers curled around the blade’s handle and in one fluid motion he swung it up and into the exposed line of skin at her midriff. The razor-like edges penetrated her flesh like it was butter only stopping when the cold hilt smacked snuggly against her goose-bumped skin.
72 Silver
Meg’s pent-up scream whooshed from her now. A primal cry of pain, betrayal and anguish resonated through every living creature around. She collapsed to the ground.
The next ten seconds moved as though wading through neck-deep mire.
She felt the ground jump up and slap her on the side of her already bleeding face. She heard the air whoosh from her chest. She blinked once against the powdery plume of dust that rose, tickling her nose. When she opened her eyes again she found herself staring at a chunk of flesh dangling from the tip of her finger. Transfixed, she stared as a droplet of blood formed—a shade too light. The weight of it tugged the flap that had been her fingertip before finding release in its fall—its impossibly slow fall—to the quivering earth below.
Quivering.
Pounding.
Rhythmically.
Meg frowned. She tried to look beyond her fingertip, but only saw a silver light.
She blinked hard at the silver.
The pain was floating away, but the silver was getting closer.
She heard a sharp series of barks, but only wanted to drift to sleep—to disconnect.
Silver.
Wake up, Meg. A small voice screamed at her. You can’t give up now, soldier. Move!
Meg forced her eyes wide just in time to see Maze leap over her. She followed his beautiful silver undercoat and watched him slam into a thick form.
Maze!