Page 97 of Soulless Deeds

Call me surprised when it was Micah’s huff of impatience that broke through. Giddiness shot through my system at the blasphemous action, my teeth gleaming from the smirk I couldn’t contain. My calm, emotionless sister succumbed to something as plain as herfeelings.Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Psycho continued, unperturbed. “I know, Golden Girl. Let’s get through this night, then I’ll deal with my sister.” He followed that up with a not-so-quiet kiss, which escalated into a not-so-quiet moan. Thank the saints, we were currently blind, or Echo wouldn’t be the only one who received a fist to the stomach.

When the sound of mixed slobber subsided, Ace whispered back, “Don’t worry, Doc, I’ll keep Ava safeabove grounduntil you all return.”

And with that parting statement, a spear of light illuminated our hidey-hole as Ace ushered us through.

XXXVIII

Echo

Spencer and I traced the corridors towards the Ludus Maximus arena, the atmosphere thick with sin and utter desolation. I could smell the malice in the air, taste the savagery on my tongue, hear the crowds deafening roars building in my ears.

The passageways were packed with the pathetic leeches who believed themselves the rulers of Junction City. Most were enjoying some form of debauchery, openly fornicating, fighting or betting. Although I recognised some, I didn’t stay long enough to invite proposition. We had a mission to complete, and the faster I could get my girl out of there, the better.

Spencer remained steadfast at my side, quiet for the first time since we’d entered the underground, chewing on her favourite gum, which she got from who knew where. Her constant bitching about her dust-stained dress frayed my nerves enough to promise a whole new closet full of all the designer shit she could ever want. Her smug air had remained ever since.

She rested one hand in the crook of my arm while the other held a beady-eyed Fran to her chest. Despite the chaotic environment, it was the most settled I’d ever seen him. I don’t know whether that was a good or bad thing, but I was sure thefiend would find the most inopportune moment to unleash his feral nature.

We approached the VIP admission with an arrogant air, the tickets easy enough to pickpocket with the sea of available idiots on hand. Upon entry, Spencer was knocked off balance by a staggering drunkard with messy, pale silver hair.

Lightning-fast, Fran growled and bit into his shoulder.

“FUCKKK,”he shrieked. As he pulled away, stark red seeped through his white dress shirt. To be frank, it only added to the aesthetic of his dishevelled state.

Is that a black smear stain on his cuff?I barely held back a sneer.Saints, have some decorum, man.

Spencer’s giggle cut through my disgust as she stroked Fran’s head for being a good boy.

“That rabies-infestedmuttis about to be put down, pretty. Hand him over,” the stranger said, his inebriated eyes settling on the growling chihuahua.

Spencer blew and popped an obnoxious bubble in his face. “You’re lucky he didn’t rip away your flesh,peasant.”

His back snapped straight, but before he could retaliate, I pivoted Spencer behind me, my chest hitting his. “Move. The. Fuck. On.”

Tension brewed between us as his expression darkened. His volatile aura escalated as his gaze flipped from my hardened features to Spencer's mocking smirk.

My muscles flexed in retaliation, preparing for his assault, when a firm hand dropped onto his uninjured shoulder.

We both jolted out of our stalemate to take in his doppelganger, who saddled up beside him. The newcomer, I could appreciate. Expensive taste with refined elegance. He was prim and proper, although not any less dangerous. His cold demeanour grew impossibly severe when assessing the scene before him.

I didn’t care if there were two or if, between them, they were giving off some serious serial killer vibes (join the club). That would just make the inevitable fight more interesting. I was ready to throw the fuck down when the new arrival with inky black hair turned to address his scruffy mirror image. “We haven’t got time. Go and clean yourself up, I’ll meet you in there.”

Clone one huffed, shoved his brother off and stormed away. Clone two barely twitched, the only motion coming from his silver earring that dangled from one ear and his critical brown stare that narrowed on Fran—which flashed with recognition before icing over once more.

Before I could say anything, he was already walking away, his posture rigid.

Shaking off the strange interaction, I took Spencer's hand to guide her forward. With the other, I reached to pat Fran’s tiny head before the aggressive shit tried to sink his teeth into me, too.

I sighed. Some things never changed.

I rapidly assessed the underground colosseum with a critical eye. Platformed tiers raised high over the arena, each location providing ample view of the complete massacre displayed below.

Spencer and I looked down on the grotesque scene with a sense of trepidation. It was fucking mental. Located on the exclusive first level, we were close enough that pieces of body matter squashed beneath our feet and the metallic tart smell of blood clogged our sinuses.

Gannicus stood centre stage, wearing a loincloth and gladiator sandals. His skin shone with a thick layer of sweatas his face remained vigilant and hard, concentrated on the sole purpose of survival. The floor was riddled with countless corpses, both animal and human alike. I had seen a lot in the trenches of Junction City—not all innocent. But this display of power was singularly barbaric, glorifying a particular type of cruelty only the rich, privileged and famous sought to find.

Gannicus was a walking contradiction—all bulk, huge stature, a mean mug. Yet, his motions were graceful, movement fluid and beautiful to behold. As if we were watching a work of art come to life before our eyes—which was ironic, due to the ruthlessness he had to impart to destroy his fellow opponents.

---