Page 136 of The Last Kingdom

Anything went. Break fingers, poke out an eye, bust up a nose. Nothing was off-limits since the other guy was definitely trying to kill you. That meant you had to get him first. It was a fight for your life, with no rules and no referee. He’d had a number of them over many different things. Defending turf. Taking down a problem. Self-defense. Proving a point. Once even after a fender bender, which the other guy started. All of them had been born out of anger by people unable to control their emotions. Most had involved some amount of alcohol. All of them had been fueled by quick outbursts of emotion.

Like a friend being killed by your enemy.

Rife came straight at him.

Like his daddy used to say.There’s gonna be two licks passed here. One when I hit you and the other when you hit the ground.Derrick realized this man had surely participated in his own fair share of brawls.

But he’d had enough of this traitor.

And delivered a solid right jab to Rife’s jaw.

Which stopped the advance.

But not the attack.

Rife rebounded and lunged, wrapping both arms around his chest, trying to take him down in a full-blown tackle. But there were advantages to being six foot one and two hundred and forty pounds.

He stood his ground.

And brought a knee into Rife’s gut.

He heard the breath leave the man. Rife backed away, sucking in lungfuls of air. Steadying himself. A bruise had already formed on his right jaw.

“You’re not that tough, big man,” Rife spit out.

“Tough enough to deal with you.”

Rife straightened up and raised his fists.

He accepted the challenge and stepped forward, his own fists balled and ready. They stood toe-to-toe like two prizefighters, circling around one another, each looking for a weakness, waiting for an opening. He’d learned long ago that it was better to draw your opponent in than go to him.

So he hesitated.

Rife took the bait and swung, landing a left jab into his ribs.

Which hurt.

More than it should.

Not good.

* * *

RIFE FELT THE RIBS CRACK.

Good.

Koger toted fifty pounds on him and a few inches more in reach, but he knew how to handle himself in hand-to-hand. He liked that they were settling their differences straight up. But he did not intend for this to go on for long. He was maneuvering Koger across the floor, ever closer to one of the guns. They each lay on an opposite sideof the hall.

Just get there.

And one shot would end this.

* * *

DERRICK WINCED AT THE PAIN IN HIS RIGHT SIDE, HIS BROW PRICKLYwith sweat. Clearly, he was not twenty years old anymore. Rife had landed a solid blow, then followed with two more jabs that he’d managed to block, but a third connected with his ribs again.

He doubled over in pain.

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