Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(51)

Serina wiped her damp hands on her thighs. She wondered what the other crew chiefs were saying about her. Commander Ricci strode onto the stage, and another rush of adrenaline flooded her system.

“Fighters, take your places,” he announced before heading for the staircase leading to the balcony.

Serina couldn’t seem to move her legs. The last of the daylight was fading, and a sickening thought stole through her. Had she seen the sun for the last time?

“Hotel Misery won last week, so they’re testing a new fighter. Watch her,” Oracle said. “She doesn’t look as scared as she should.”

Somehow, Serina knew Oracle was talking about Anika, the girl from in-processing with the defiant glare, even before she watched Anika take her place onstage. She was the first of the champions to do so. She’d ripped the sleeves off of her shirt, revealing her wiry, muscled arms, and pulled her hair into rows of tight braids. Hadn’t Anika said she’d been sent here for killing someone?

“I can’t do this,” Serina whispered, terror breaking over her in a wave. It wasn’t just fear for her own life. It was fear of taking someone else’s. She may have trained in the logistics of fighting, but her heart—her resolve to take a life—was entirely untested. Again, miserably, she whispered, “I can’t.”

“Petrel thought you could,” Oracle said firmly. “And I do too. It’s like being chosen as a Grace—only you get to decide who wins. And you get to be angry about it.” She gave Serina a push. “Get angry, Grace.”

Serina stepped onto the stage. And somehow, as she stared at the other fighters and at the scared, hungry women watching them, Oracle’s words sank in. And Serina’s anger rose.

Oracle was right. Every aspect of their world, down to Viridia’s prisons, pitted women against each other while men watched.

“Begin!” Commander Ricci shouted, dropping a crate into the center of the ring.

Go for the crate, Val had said.

Serina lunged for it, praying she could trust him. Behind her, one of the fighters screamed. Serina reached the broken crate and wedged it open, revealing a handful of knives. She grabbed one and threw the rest off the edge of the stage, just as someone kneed her in the spine. She went down, gasping, but if there was one thing Serina was good at, it was getting back up.

She surged to her feet, slashing outward with the knife. Pearl dodged the blow, barely, rocking back on her heels. Serina rushed her, aiming for her knees, and shoved as hard as she could. The larger woman stumbled back. Serina swept her legs while she was still unbalanced.

The woman fell, arms pinwheeling, and cracked her head against the first row of stone seating. Her body collapsed, boneless, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She was still breathing, but she didn’t get up.

Bile churned in Serina’s throat.

She whirled in time to see Venom take the Beach fighter down. The girl’s face had turned purple, and there were deep, bleeding wounds on her shoulder. Venom stepped back as her victim crumpled, and locked eyes with Serina. When the woman smiled, her spiked teeth were red. She started for Serina.

Every muscle in Serina’s body yearned to run.

A knife flew through the air, burying itself in Venom’s chest. The woman staggered but didn’t fall. Another blade found Pearl’s throat, killing her before she ever opened her eyes. Serina gasped. Anika stepped back into the ring, more knives in each hand. She must have taken advantage of the other fights to retrieve them.

Serina braced for one of the knives to find her. But Anika lunged at Venom and slashed her throat.

Spots danced before Serina’s eyes. A guard cheered. The rest of the audience watched in silence.

Three bodies lay where they’d fallen.

Don’t think. Don’t stop. Val’s voice filled her mind.

Only one more fighter. Then this would be over.

Anika turned toward Serina, brandishing a knife in each hand. Her determined frown sent ice down Serina’s spine. The wavering torchlight threw grotesque shadows across the stage, moving like ghosts.

When Anika rushed her, Serina spun away, dodging the deadly arc of her knives. At the same time, she flung her leg out. For a split second, it did feel like dancing. Then Anika went down and Serina kicked one of the girl’s hands as hard as she could. The knife went skittering across the floor with a hollow clank.

Anika let out a frustrated scream. Serina stomped on her other hand, but Anika was ready this time. She heaved her shoulder up and into Serina’s stomach. Serina staggered back a step, slipping on the slick stone. Anika slashed Serina’s arm, opening a long gash.

Fiery pain spilled out with the blood. Serina gasped. Anika lunged forward, trying to push her advantage. But Serina danced out of the way at the last second, and Anika’s momentum sent her lurching. Serina twirled and kicked the back of her knee. The girl fell hard. As Anika rolled, trying to get her feet under her, Serina kicked at her hand, sending the second knife flying.

Serina was scared Anika might have another knife hidden somewhere. She couldn’t take the chance. She dropped onto Anika’s chest, thrust her knife up against the girl’s throat, and dug her knees into her shoulders, putting pressure on the joints.

Anika struggled, but she couldn’t dislodge Serina. As she’d so helpfully pointed out when they’d first met, Serina wasn’t like the other hungry girls. Her added weight gave her an advantage now.