The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(32)

“Felt like home,” Varma fills in.

“Right. Captain didn’t want to take a big spoiled princess onto her crew, but then Chuck got in the engine room. No more doubt after that.”

“You were there?” I ask as Code ducks into an opening and lands a flurry of punches. Chuck staggers backward, then swings with a vicious uppercut that grazes his chin.

Swift nods. “Chuck was the last of us. Lemon came a year before. Captain picked her up from an Aleutian colony after she heard the local gossip about a girl who could speak the ocean’s language.”

Before I can confirm that Lemon speaks something, a burst of action on the mats draws every eye in the Slew. Code’s made a misstep, Chuck lunges, and a hiss rises from the crowd.

Her fist drives into his temple.

The cheers that echo through the hold swallow the sound he makes when he hits the mat. Varma throws his hands in the air, and up on the crates, Santa Elena leans forward. “That’ll do,” she thunders.

Chuck steps back, running her hands through her hair as a grin cracks over her face. My lips curve involuntarily, and pride flushes through my body as Varma rushes to her side. I can’t resist it. The celebration sweeps me in, and I find myself trailing in Swift’s wake as she hops up on the mats to congratulate Chuck.

But then Code is crawling to his feet, his eyes narrowed, his face flushed, and the first words out of his mouth are “I’m not finished.” He fixes Swift with his pale stare and lifts his chin. “You. Knives this time.”

Swift freezes, her gaze flicking up for the captain’s approval.

Santa Elena nods back.

One of the crew members on the sidelines tosses two rubber training daggers to Code, who offers one to Swift blade-first. She takes it with a scowl, flipping it over once and catching it by the hilt. “You sure?” she asks, and no one in the Slew misses the way she hesitates before bringing her knife up.

“I’m just getting started,” he snarls. “Clear the mats.”

I follow Varma and Chuck back to our corner, where Lemon is still lurking. Under the lights, Code and Swift circle each other, the tips of their blades dancing back and forth. He makes the first move.

A good fight is mostly waiting.

This isn’t a good fight.

Code comes at her with an animal’s voracity, his knife plunging straight for her throat. She catches his wrist and twists, but he flows with the movement, bringing his elbow down hard on her sternum. Swift chokes out a gasp, staggering back, but Code keeps coming even as she raises her blade and slaps it hard across his forearm. He doesn’t slow.

Then Varma’s voice is in my ear. “All you need to know about those two is they came on this boat on the same day. Him in slavers’ chains, and her of her own volition.”

It’s a harsh reminder of how far from home I am. Out here, beyond the regulation of any state, people can be bought and sold. And it makes me reconsider everything I know about Code. A boy who started with nothing, and now he’s clawing his way to the top of the Minnow’s food chain. No wonder he fights so viciously.

My nails dig into my palms as Swift hits the mat with a thud that drives the air from her lungs. Code’s free hand latches around her neck just as her legs swing up. She punts him over her head, and he collapses in a seething heap.

Swift props herself up on her forearms, her eyes darting to the captain.

Santa Elena ruffles her son’s hair and smirks. She won’t call it. Not while they’re both still fresh.

Murmurs roll through the crowd as Code and Swift stagger to their feet. The fight’s hit its first lull at last, leaving them catching their breath and rolling their shoulders. Code adjusts his grip on his knife and raises his eyebrows, daring Swift to make the next move.

She sweeps her hair out of her face, sticks the hilt of her blade in her mouth, and grabs the hem of her T-shirt.

Oh no.

Swift peels her shirt off, and the crowd collapses into whistles and hollers as she balls it up and pitches it to the side. Her back is already slick with sweat, shimmering in the harsh glare of the industrial lamps overhead. Her lips twitch devilishly upward around the knife’s butt, and for a moment—a horrible moment—she catches my eye.

I blink and stare at the floor, wishing I could drain the blood from my body just to keep it away from my cheeks.

Swift is hot. It’s a fact, simple and scientific and unnoticed until the day you think too hard about it, and then it’s everywhere.

She plucks the knife from her mouth, licks her lips, and lunges forward. But even as she twists in midair to dodge Code’s swipe, it’s clear she’s miscalculated. Or he’s calculated more. His free hand snaps out, latching onto her hair. He gives it a brutal yank, wrenching her backward as his blade comes down hard on her bare stomach.

But he doesn’t stop there. The rubber knife tumbles from Code’s hand as he hauls Swift upright. His fist drives into her jaw, and the Slew erupts with shouts from the crowd.

The captain doesn’t call it.

Swift’s too busy trying to pry his hand from her scalp to block the next punch. It splits her lip. His knee smashes into her stomach, and she lets out a bloody gasp as Code shoves her backward, sending her sprawling on her back.

His leg is halfway into the kick when Santa Elena snaps, “Enough!”

Code’s toes stop just short of Swift’s ribs. He scoffs, rolls his shoulders, and turns his back on her, trotting over to rejoin us. At the edge of the mats, he pauses. “Hey Swift,” he calls.