But holy damn, I’d enjoy every second left in the fight just to watch Fallen Angel move. The dude was like some kind of lethal ballet dancer, all fluid grace and deadly quick strikes as he manipulated his opponent into the trap he was laying.
Fallen Angel was unlike any fighter I’d ever seen. Myself included. Fuck… I needed to go up against him.
“Shit,” Nolan hissed. His whole body stiffened, and his attention was fixed across the room from us. “We need to go, new girl. Now.”
I hesitated, not wanting to miss the end of the fight, which promised to be soon, but my gaze snagged on something out of place. Something that had clearly startled Nolan. From a gloomy tunnel entrance, a group of black-clad people had just entered the cave and were looking around. That in itself was not out of place. What was out of place was the fact that none of them wore masks. Why would they? The royal Swiss guards had no need to conceal their identities.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed, my eyes locked onto the glittering gold crests adorning their chests. “Nolan, fuck!”
“No shit,” he snapped back, grabbing my hand and tugging me through the crowd in the direction we’d come in. Everyone’s focus was still on the fighters and their high-speed blades, so chaos hadn’t broken out. Yet. It’d only be a matter of moments, though.
“Follow the little hawk symbols,” Nolan ordered me as we reached the tunnel entrance. “The door into the academy is marked with a larger hawk on the ceiling above it. The latch is bottom left; lift it with your foot.”
“Wait, what?” I demanded, shaking my head. “Where are you going to be?”
“Making sure Jordan doesn’t wind up in Rafe’s dad’s prison.” He snorted a laugh, like he really wasn’t all that worried. Maybe he wasn’t. The worst they’d get would be a slap on the wrist or maybe a lecture from their parents. “You’re in much more danger than us, new girl. Move your ass and don’t look back.”
Nolan gave me a shove into the tunnel and pointed at the wall above our heads as a reminder before disappearing back into the black-clad, anonymous crowd. Sure enough, there were dozens of little symbols, all probably marking a different tunnel entrance. So cool. I’d been so focused on the arrows earlier I hadn’t noticed the other markings.
I hesitated a moment, torn with indecision, but panicked shouts across the room decided for me. Fuck the royals, I needed to look after my own ass.
Chapter 15
I wasn’t the only one looking out after their own ass; more than one black-clad person was in the tunnel with me. Thankfully, no one looked around, all of us focused on getting out in one piece. Someone had their palm reader light on, so I didn’t need mine, but when I was pushed out of the way by a behemoth, I veered off the path, ending up in another section of the tunnel. It took me a few moments of growing darkness to realize I was no longer following the crowd. Shit.
Activating my light, I took a second to find the hawk symbols, and found… none. Instead, I blinked at the double-sided arrow right above me. What did that mean? Was I supposed to go left or right?
The decision was made for me when a black-clad figure stormed into sight—A royal guard.
I didn’t think, I just ran, but the youngish guard was fit and fast, catching up to me in no time.
“Halt!” he shouted, that word deeply accented. “You will answer to the king. We’re shutting these fights down for good.”
Yeah, right. Like I was just going to let him take me. I wasn’t a royal. Not being in the fights might save me from death, or it might not. Depending.
Picking up speed, I stayed out of his reach for a few more seconds, but I barely had time to see any symbols or arrows. When I finally caught sight of one--an arrow--I realized that I was following them right back to the fighting area.
This was bad. I was going to end up where all the guards were, and if evading one was hard, evading them all would be impossible.
I had no alternatives at the moment, but the second I saw another path, I was taking it. Anywhere was better than back to the fight.
“Halt!” the guard shouted again, his accent deep.
My palm reader light flashed off a side tunnel, and I tried to suck air into my starving lungs as I ducked to the left. I had a brief thought that I should shut my reader off and try to double back, but the guard had a light too. I wasn’t sure this part of the tunnel was wide enough to slip around him.
“Hilfe!” the guard said, loud and echoing and clearly not in English. Then there were two guards. One had appeared in front of me, and I was heading straight for him.
I could also see the illuminated path to the fight area right behind him, and I knew I was fucked.
If I wanted to get out of here, I had to fight.
Picking up speed, I charged at the new guard, knocking the traser, his weapon, aside in one swift movement. Trasers were the weapon favored by royals. The small black devices were part taser, part tranquilizer. They were deadly and effective with multiple prongs that fired with the speed of a bullet, injecting the victim with benzodiazepines, followed by a jolt of electricity, rendering them unconscious in seconds. The world’s press took all kinds of delight in showing footage of them being used on “troublemakers” so I was all too familiar with how they worked.
It made sense that they’d be using them tonight. They didn’t know who was under the masks. What if they killed a royal?
The new guard was a little older than the one chasing me, rounder around the middle, with mousy brown hair and a receding hairline. “You don’t have to fight,” he said, sounding very French.
No time for words. I disabled him in four moves, taking out both arms and crippling his left knee first, before slamming into his right. Leaving him howling on the ground, I jumped over him, but I was too slow. The other guard, catching hold of my shirt, yanked me back.
Using this momentum against him, I pushed off from the ground and slammed all of my weight into him, sending us both tumbling down. Rolling in a way to minimize my damage, I was back up in a flash, my hand striking him hard in the temple and knocking him out cold.
My breaths burst in and out as adrenaline overloaded me, but I was safe for a second, and that allowed me to get myself under control. I was about to take off away from the fight, when something caught my eye right in the main light.
I hadn’t noticed when I was busy fighting for my freedom, but there was another fight going on—one black-clad fighter against five guards.
No, not just one fighter … it was the Fallen Angel.
He’d ditched the weapons and was taking them all on hand to hand, holding his fucking own. I was again mesmerized as I watched, both envying and admiring the smooth skills he possessed. I’d never seen a fighter like him, and I’d seen a lot of fighters before.
But the odds were against him because the Swiss guards were at the top of their game and highly trained, and they were going to wear him down.
My feet started to turn away, but then I couldn’t leave. What if they killed him? And I’d just walked away, too busy saving my own ass.
I couldn’t do it.
Muttering out a series of curses, I sucked up some bravery and sprinted toward them, taking the guards with their back to me by surprise. I roundhouse kicked one, knocking him out cold, followed by an uppercut-elbow action to another, clipping his chin and dropping him to the ground. I knew the second guard wasn’t out, but I’d hurt him enough that he didn’t jump back to his feet.