Always For You (Books 1-3) (40 page)

“Fuck,” he said, “the blood's
fresh.”

“It's Cain's?” I asked, knowing it
was impossible for him to be sure.

“I guess it must be. Looks like he's
been taken Grace.” His words fell like weights in the silence of
the empty flat.

I didn't need to ask who'd do that,
Brad didn't need to say. We both knew as we stood there staring at
the shards of glass and smeared blood on the floor. We knew that Cain
had been found, that he'd been taken to the pit to fight.  

October 25
^th
2014

Cain

I sat there for what seemed like hours,
unable to move, unable to do anything. I knew Emily was in the other
room, blindfolded and gagged, kidnapped once more because of me. I
had tried to call through the wall to her, but it was no use, I knew
my words would be impossible to hear, impossible to understand.

I began to hear a surge of activity up
above me, the crowd beginning to swell, once more descending into
this macabre dungeon to experience the thrill of battle, of death. I
knew for sure that this time I'd be the last one up, that I'd have to
sit and wait, unable to do anything but think. But there was only one
thing I could think about, and she was sitting only meters from me
through the wall.

I had no illusions now: my morals, my
sense of right and wrong, it was all irrelevant. I would go into that
pit and take a life, and I'd do it for her. It was either that, or
death - death for me, death for her. I would do everything I could to
make sure we both walked out of there alive tonight. I'd fight for
her. I'd kill for her.

Grace

The day was a rush. Brad and I grew
convinced that Cain had been taken, and it was likely that the same
had happened to Emily. Quite why, we didn't know, but Brad said she'd
probably be used to force him to fight. As incentives go, I knew that
would get Cain fired up.

There was only one place we could think
of where Cain would have been taken, a place Brad had been to often,
somewhere I never wanted to see again. We parked up and headed round
the back towards the exit behind the building. Brad knew the bouncers
back there, so we hoped that they weren't privy to what was going on
inside and would let us in.

“Hey boys,” Brad had said, “meet
the Spartan's sis, Grace. I'm just gonna show her the inside if
that's cool? He should be in there already, got a fight tonight.”
His words were quick and easy, not making a big deal of things.

To my surprise they stepped aside
without so much as a question, and we entered a long corridor after
descending a staircase, taking us into the underbelly of the
building. It was dim inside, cold and unwelcoming, the ceiling fairly
low as we inched further inside.

“What are we going to do?” I
whispered to Brad, my voice carrying down the long stretch ahead.

“We're gonna find him and, if he's
here, get him out.”

We carried on, hearing the crowd
beginning to gather up above us. We passed by room after room,
inhabited by fighters awaiting their fate, preparing for what was to
come. Cain could be anywhere, in any of these rooms, or none of them.
How would we ever find him down here?

We progressed on towards the room that
Cain and Brad usually prepared in, the room that kept them until Cain
stepped into the pit. It wasn't far from the door into the pit
itself, a short walk that must have felt like walking the green mile
each time it was taken.

Brad reached the door and opened it up.
There was a fighter sitting hunched on a bench, his hands shaking
slightly, his head bowed. He looked up at us, his eyes fearful.

“Is it time?” he asked nervously.

“No...I don't know. Sorry, wrong
room,” Brad said.

“Fuck,” he said, turning back to me
and shutting the door, “I've no idea where he might be.”

Then, in the quiet of the corridor, a
sound us made me jump, the sound of a man closeting a laugh behind
us.

“Well, well, nice to see you again
Brad.”

We turned to see a man standing there
in the corridor, a couple of large guards to his sides. It was the
man who announced the fights, the man who'd been forcing Cain into
the pit.

“What have you done with Cain?” I
asked quickly. “Do you have Emily?”

Brad stepped forward slightly, lightly
pulling me behind him with his arm.

“They're both here with us, yes,
perfectly safe, don't worry. I couldn't risk Cain running out on us
again, so I decided to bring him here overnight. He's got an
important fight coming up later on.”

“And Emily,” Brad said.

“Well, that Cain is awfully stubborn.
I thought that maybe he could use a bit of coercion.”

I could feel Brad's body tensing.

“Oh don't be concerned, I'll let her
go as soon as Cain fulfils his agreement,” the man said, noticing
the change in Brad, the look on our faces.

“I know what you're thinking,” he
continued, “I know why you're here. You're here to break him out,
help him escape. But I'm sorry to say Brad, this isn't a fucking
prison movie.” His voice was beginning to rise. “Cain
will
honor
his agreement.”

“And then what, what happens next,
how do we know you won't continue forcing him to fight?”

He laughed slowly. “We'll tackle that
hurdle
if
it comes to that.”

He gestured lightly with his hands and
the guards walked forward towards us. Brad stepped back, holding me
behind him. “They're not going to hurt you,” the man said, “I
just thought that perhaps you'd like to watch the fights tonight.
These men here will escort you to your seats. Enjoy.”

He turned away and walked back up the
corridor. “Duty calls,” he shouted as he disappeared round the
corner. The fights were about to begin.

October 25
^th
2014

Cain

“Five minutes.” The call came
through the door, a knocking that brought me out of my trance.

I sat there, untied now, inside the
locked room. I'd been taken to another room, one closer to the pit,
locked in there with two guards stationed outside. I wasn't a flight
risk though, I wouldn't cause any problems, not with Emily locked in
this dungeon. I'd do everything they asked of me, anything they told
me to do. If it meant she'd be safe, I'd do it, even if it meant
losing my own life.

I heard the lock click on the other
side of the door and it slowly opened. “Spartan,” the man said,
“it's time.”

I got up and walked out, my mind fixed
on the task. There were three large men following me, chaperoning me
towards the pit. We walked in silence along the corridor, the
familiar sound of the announcer geeing up the crowd above us. He went
on longer than usual, building the fight up, trying to induce as much
excitement, as much betting, as possible.

Then, I heard my name -
Spartan
- and a mighty roar shuddered through the ceiling. One of the
bouncers stepped forward and swung the door open in front of me, and
I stepped into the cauldron, my heart beat rising with every step.

Grace

I sat beside Brad, looking down on the
pit. We'd been kept there for a couple of hours now, watching the
various fights take place, wondering when Cain would appear. I could
feel the eyes of the guards at our back, their orders clear -
make
sure they don't move, make sure they watch every moment.

Now the announcer was standing there
once more, calling to the crowd, introducing the next fight.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our
showpiece fight of the night. Two warriors fighting for their very
lives, two men born for battle standing face to face in the pit,
nothing but their brutality and primal power to pull them to
victory.”

My heart went cold as he continued to
speak, knowing that Cain was down there, forced to step into the pit,
forced to fight, to kill, to die. I grabbed Brad's hand and squeezed
it tight, looking over at his face, grave and etched with a mixture
of fear and anger.

Then, the announcer shouted, his voice
crying out and echoing around the room. “I give you the Spartan,
warrior elite.”

I looked to see a door into the pit
open slowly, and Cain walk out. He was garbed in warrior clothing, a
light helmet on his head,
armor
on his
forearms and shins. He looked like a gladiator of old, his muscled
body rippling, but I knew that what he was wearing was only for show,
that it wouldn't offer him any real protection. It was the image the
announcer had created for him, the vision of an ancient warrior that
he wanted to portray, to market to the baying masses.

I saw his eyes, seething and focused,
as he stood there in the pit, staring at the door on the other side,
the door that would spew forth his opponent.

Cain

The sound of the crowd was deafening,
their roars and cheers reverberating around the walls of the dungeon.
But my mind was on nothing but the door in front of me, waiting to
see who would walk through it, who would be standing in my way.

I could hear the announcer, that
fucking snake, up above me, introducing my opponent. I heard him say,
“I give to you,
Tombstone
,” and the roaring of the crowd
grew louder.

The door ahead of me slowly began to
open, and in stepped a monster of a man, ducking down through the
door as he lumbered into the pit. He was huge, his tall frame packed
with heavy muscle, his arms like tree trunks, his chest bulging
forward, threatening to explode. He wore stage armour like me, but
his was more rustic, more basic, as if he was an old warrior of the
woods.

A fear tried to settle in me as I
looked upon him, scars littering his face and body, but I forced it
away, turned my mind to Emily. I didn't care who this man was, how
many times he'd fought, how many men he killed. He needed to die, I
needed to kill him for her.

I saw the monster turn and face the
announcer up above, his hands raising and bringing a silence to the
crowd. “To the death,” he shouted, his narrow eyes locked on me.
The crowd roared once more and then quickly hushed, the weighty
footfall of Tombstone shaking the very ground I stood on and echoing
around the room.

He stepped in as the crowd watched on
in silence, their breath caught in anticipation of the first blow.
The giant continued to come towards me, his frame looming large over
me, his massive arms stretched out, reaching in to grab me. I ducked
under and zipped to the other side of the pit. If I had one thing on
my side, it would be speed, agility.

He followed me round the pit, walking
slowly, his confidence built upon so many victories, trying to get me
into a corner, box me in so I had nowhere to go. I swung my fist into
his jaw, an uppercut that would have floored most men. His head
rocked back, his huge chin sent skyward, but nothing more. He didn't
lose his footing, he didn't even take a step backwards. Slowly, he
lowered his head again, peering at me through dark eyes, and laughed,
a bellowing sound that only a man of his size could make.

He lifted his hands up, bringing the
crowd to life, his laugh bounding from wall to wall. They cheered as
he turned on the spot, his confidence so complete he turned his back
to me, fearing little of my ability to hurt him.

I stood there perplexed, wondering how
I'd hurt him, how I'd be able to kill him, as he turned back to face
me. “My turn,” he said, swinging his heavy arm in my direction,
the speed of his fist incredible for such a large man. I managed to
duck just in time, his arm grazing the top of my head, as his other
arm came at me. I ducked once more, stepping away and giving myself
some room to breath, but he continued to come, continued to swing.

He gave little heed to defence,
swinging wildly and leaving himself open to attack. I managed to
catch him in the gut, my fist shuddering against his powerful abs. He
barely seemed to notice, my attacks like a kitten playfully swatting
at its mother. He kept coming, kept swinging, eventually catching me
with a club to my back, his giant fist crashing down upon my spine as
I tried to duck away from his blows.

The air shot out of my body and I hit
the floor, the noise from the crowd growing with every minute. I
glanced up to see his massive foot come down onto me, but rolled away
just in time to avoid its weight. I shot to my feet as he lumbered in
towards me, his hands grappling for a hold on my body. I twisted and
wriggled from his grasp, spinning around behind him like lightning
and grabbing at his leg. I pulled with all my strength and he lost
his footing, his massive frame upended as he went thundering down
onto the concrete floor.

I went for my strength, wrapping myself
around his leg like an anaconda, twisting at the knee, trying to
weaken him. His leg was massive though, so strong and thick,
preventing me from getting a strong enough grip. He kicked out with
his spare leg and caught me in the side of the head, sending my brain
rattling in my skull as I flew to the floor.

Grace

I could barely watch as I saw Cain
flounder around the pit, pursued by this behemoth on steroids. He was
the biggest man I'd ever seen, a veteran of these fights, capable of
snapping a man's neck like a twig.

He was having trouble getting hold of
Cain though, having trouble catching him. Cain's strength was his
speed, his ability to dodge the giants attacks and wear him down. He
moved like a cat, despite his own relative size, weaving in and out
and back and forward, constantly looking for a weakness.

He'd managed to catch him with a few
punches but they had little impact; he'd managed to get the giant to
the floor and lock in a submission hold but he was shoved off. Now he
lay there on the concrete, groggily returning to his feet after being
kicked flush in the head by an enormous foot.