Page 83 of Brutal Unionn
It’s about her. It’s always been about her. And as she steps forward, eyes burning with challenge, one truth settles over me like a blade against the skin.
This isn’t the next fight. This is the real one. And the war between us?
It has only just begun.
20
NADIA
The stenchof blood was heavier than the air. It didn’t just hang—it clung, hot and wet and metallic, curling through my nostrils and sinking into my skin. The pit looked like a war zone: red with broken bits of bone and weapons, and a few dents in the dirt where his last opponents fell. In the center stood Sho.
And fuck me, he looked glorious.
He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling with each strained inhale, blood smeared across his ribs and pooling at his feet. His shirt had been torn nearly to rags, his blade looked like it had crawled through history and never got cleaned, and still… still he stood like a crowned king drenched in carnage. The rusted weapon hung in his grip like an extension of his will. His stance was loose, but not weak.
He was injured, yes. But not finished, and I couldn’t help but want a piece of that, a minute of this.
My hand shoots up like a rocket before the words even leave my mouth, “I do!”
The crowd parts and everyone looks at me but I keep my head high as I make my way deeper into the room. This was not the original plan. I was supposed to corner him after, but he can’t ignore me in front of all these people. He can’t run not if he doesn’t want to forfeit his bragging rights.
“You can’t be fucking serious.” Sho growls, glancing at Aoi. “I am not fighting her.”
“The final fight is always between the survivor and a volunteer.” Aoi chides, “No one else seems eager to enter the ring with you. These are the rules.”
“Fine.” Sho mutters, unhappy with the circumstance, yet his eyes return to me.
I take my time descending into the pit, feeling the weight of every step, my pulse steady, my breath controlled. I don’t need armor. I don’t need flash. I don’t need more than these blades, my fists, and my intent. The denim clings to my thighs, damp with sweat from the heat of the bodies and the fire in my chest. My hair is pulled back into a loose knot, strands already sticking to my temple. I look nothing like royalty.
And I have never felt more like a god.
Sho watches me the way he always has—like I am both threat and temptation. His eyes follow my hands, my hips, my mouth. And when I stop in front of him, close enough to feel the heat off his skin, he doesn’t lift the blade.
Not yet.
“You always do like to make a mess,” I say, voice soft but cutting.
Sho’s lips curl at the edges, just slightly. “You always do like to show up when it is already cleaned up.”
I tilt my head, studying the fresh blood on his collarbone, the fatigue blooming just beneath the surface. He looks like he’s moments away from collapse. And yet, there is something unshakable in him, something too stupid to die. That’s what I like about him. That is also what makes him dangerous.
“Ten bodies,” I say, tone almost admiring. “I’m surprised you don’t keep one alive just to monologue at.”
“I am saving that for you,” he murmurs.
My jaw twitches with the threat of a smirk. “Good. I like an audience.”
For a moment, we just stand there—two weapons that know each other too well. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I step into the ring. Not because he is cautious. Because he knows me. He knows I won’t show unless I intend to draw blood.
“You come all this way to stop me?” he asks.
“No,” I say simply. “I came to see if there’s anything left of the man I once broke.”
Sho’s smile turns razor-thin. “I’m the one still standing.”
“Then let’s see what happens when someone who knows where to cut finally joins the fight.”
The tension between us hums like electricity. My fingers brush one of the hidden knives tucked against my lower back. The steel is cold. Comforting. Familiar. Around us, the pit’s edge blurs—the crowd, Bhon, Aoi—they all fade into meaningless background noise.
