Page 83 of Make Me Hunt
I need him to look me in the eyes when I kill him. To feel, even for a second, the pain I’m feeling.
He finally turns to me, eyes raking me from head to toe. For a moment, he pauses, almost shocked that I haven’t bolted already. Instead, I stand here, challenging him. And he responds.
No hesitation, he charges toward me, eager to finish me off.
That’s not going to happen. I’ve trained too much to let that happen.
His sword rises high in the air, and the second he’s close enough, he swings for me.
Not a chance.I raise my blade, blocking his.
Still, he’s too strong, and the blow knocks me down, my knees scraping the floor. But I’ve got the speed, and I won’t let him get another chance. I dart beneath his arm, my sword still high up in the air in defense, as I slip to his left.
I’m still within arm's reach, but I know I don’t have a chance of beating him with force. My leverage is agility, so I charge again, keeping a greater distance so our blades meet near the tip, not the hilts. This way, I can keep him busy as I search for an opportunity to strike.
He turns and swings his sword toward me, but my plan works. I parry, our swords colliding so fast they blur.
Adrenaline floods my veins, fueling the courage, or maybe the madness, to take on a god.
We clash for minutes, faster and stronger, and I realize it’ll wear me down soon. I take a step back and let him charge for me.
He barrels toward me at full speed, to finally destroy me, the deck threatening to let go. But as he charges, I leap aside, then again to his left and go straight for his head.
I swing my sword, and I know I’ve hit.
A strange silence hangs in the air for a second, and I can’t even bring myself to look at what I’ve done.
I’m shaking, and no amount of adrenaline can keep back the feeling of something breaking inside me. But it’s only for a short second before I realize I’ve hit his shoulder and cut one of his warrior braids.
He turns, facing me fully, cracking his neck from side to side, waiting for his flesh to stitch itself back together.
I don’t even mimic the surprise of witnessing something this unnatural, like his body rejuvenating. I just hold my ground and wait for his next move.
He’s certain he’ll kill me because he’d never let anyone walk away after witnessing this. Oh, he's pissed off right now, and I’m already scanning the room, searching for a Plan B.
And hereitis, right in front of me.
He charges again, and I let him, fending off his slashes, one by one, almost like some brutal arcade fight.
But his blows are getting stronger. It’s only a matter of seconds before the next one ends me.
I have to act now. I back away, pretending to retreat, but really, I’m angling for something that’ll give me enough speed to take him by surprise.
There’s a table behind me, and he’ll think he’ll have me cornered, when in all actuality, he’s the one about to meet his end.
Thepower of our swords clashing rings through the room, and just when I’m close enough to the table, I duck, fend off his blade. Then I spring with one foot on a cradle by the table—then, straight onto the countertop.
For a second, he thinks I’m fleeing. But I’m using every card I’ve got.
I launch high into the air, my sword hungry for his head. “Goodbye, Ares.”
For a heartbeat, I feel every emotion colliding. Anger, hate, love, pain—like lightning, racing across my body as the world slows to a crawl.
Not every bet is a winner. I catch a glimpse of him, the shock in his eyes after hearing my voice, trying to piece it together. Indescribable.
I was hoping that shock would numb his reactions.
But I underestimated him.
