danae davis

The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.

“Now you know how it feels to be the receiver,” Falco panted, “to be the one hoping for mercy from someone you once knew and trusted. But I won’t give it to you. Today, your story of murder and betrayal ends.” He pulled back his fist, ready to deliver the finishing blow. “Today, justice will be served!” Then Noah dosed him with more gas, and his legs gave out from under him. At that moment, Viktor threw himself forward with all the strength he had left, driving his burning hand through Falco’s gut and bursting out of his back.

“I was a saint before I met you, and now look at me. But I suppose I should thank you for making things so interesting.” She then leaned down and kissed him, and Sophia tried to subtly avert her gaze and hide the fresh bruise on her heart.