I can’t help but smirk, which Glitch must catch because he smiles at me.
“Be careful.”
“I always am,” I reply as I step outside the gate and watch as my guys are locked back inside.
A sick feeling wells in the pit of my stomach at the sound of the lock engaging. The sight of them locked away from me makes my body feel like it’s on fire with the need to destroy the bars and set them free.
Fuck, if it’s like this now, what will it be like when I leave to go back home? My stomach cramps at the idea, and I have to will myself to calm the fuck down before I puke.
Philip storms off, so I wave to the guys and jog to keep up with his royal ass-ness. I ask him where we’re going and how long this will take. He ignores me, so I stop talking.
As we pass through a pretty courtyard devoid of people, I smell the tantalizing aroma of barbecued food. I might be a clean eater, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some smells that entice me. Barbecued food is one of them.
We enter through a door on the opposite side of the courtyard and head up a winding flight of stairs that seem never-ending. Eventually, they lead us into some sort of reception area.
Two uncomfortable-looking sofas sit perpendicular to each other, separated only by a glass coffee table between them. The ultra-modern vibe looks lost and out of place here in a space that time forgot.
He gestures for me to take a seat before leaving without a word.
It’s safe to assume the staff turnover in this place must be astronomical if this guy is their boss. A few minutes in his company and I’m ready to throw myself out of a second-story window.
I look around at the bare stone walls and wonder where I am. There is no reception desk, no little water bottles, and no other doors that I can see except the elevator at the far end of the room.
I’m guessing it’s some kind of anteroom, although I’d rather be locked up with my guys than wait around and see what bullshit is going to be flung at me. That’s what this is, a power play of sorts. If it were a meet and greet, we’d all be going. The fact that it’s just the women from each team doesn’t leave me with a good feeling.
After ten minutes of waiting, I’m ready to take my chances at finding my way back when I hear footsteps approaching.
I look up and see Philip with a woman behind him. I don’t get a good look until he steps aside.
I’m assuming this is Deity. We had worked our way through the elimination rounds, but the last fight had been a closed fight. The only people who knew they had made it to the final were the two teams themselves. We had fought the other teams, knocking them out in our bid to get here. We had no idea who we were facing until Philip mentioned Deity.
I’ve never met the woman, but she is a pretty big deal back in Russia, where she’s from.
At least now I know which team we’re facing. I close my eyes briefly as I try to recall the men on her team. Vlad, her husband of four years. Kite, the ex-junkie turned fighter. Crank, the Scot with a thick accent, likes to wear a kilt with nothing underneath. I suspect it’s more for show than his actual heritage. And Butcher. Butcher is rumored to be ex-KGB, arriving with Vlad and Deity. I don’t know much else, but I doubt he got his name because he likes slicing bacon.
“If you’ll both follow me,” Philip orders, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I take a second to size up Deity as she does me. She’s the polar opposite of me, tall and muscular with dark hair in a bob that suits the sharp angles of her face. This woman likes to work out. Her body is her temple. Although there isn’t much in the way of curves and softness, she is stunningly beautiful in a strong and fearless way.
In another life, I think I could have liked her. I sure as shit respect her because getting to this stage was no easy feat. But friendship is not an option when in a few hours, I’ll be spilling her blood across the stone floors below us.
All three of us step into the elevator. Philip is wedged between the two of us, looking completely unfazed, even though I’m sure we could both kill him in seconds if we were so inclined.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and look at Deity, who is wearing a similar outfit of yoga pants and a hoodie, out of the corner of my eye.
She keeps her eyes forward and her hands loose, but I can see how tense she is. As if she expects me to strike at any minute.
The ding of the elevator reaching its floor seems overly loud in the silence enveloping us. I can tell both of us are glad to be getting out. I like to always have an exit strategy where possible, and a six-by-six elevator doesn’t leave many escape options.
The doors slide back, and we all file out.
This looks like a hotel. Thick, sumptuous cream carpets and a side table underneath an arched window filled with fresh-cut flowers means someone has been here today sprucing the place up. We pause in front of a set of double oak doors, and Philip knocks. He doesn’t wait for permission to enter—he pushes the handle down and waltzes in.
It’s the small things that tell more about people than they realize. Philip is more than he appears to be. His relationship is beyond just that of employer and employee, even if it is something as simple as friends. To walk in unannounced means there is an element of trust, which is unusual for Titus.
“Sir, here are the female contenders, Deity and Malice.”
He turns to us and ushers us through the doorway into a large bedroom.