“You’ve lost your edge, old man,” I taunted, darting back to avoid another swing. “All that metal, and you’ve grown clumsy with age.”
He growled, his good hand tightening around his weapon. “We’ll see how clumsy I am when I’m standing over your broken, naked body.”
He lunged again. This time, I met him head-on. Our blades clashed, sparks flying as metal screamed against metal. My muscles burned, every swing and parry pushing me closer to my limit.
I refused to back down. I ducked under his arm, aiming a slash at his leg. The blade caught, biting into flesh and sending him stumbling.
“Stay down, Drakos,” I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “This fight is over.”
He didn’t listen. With a roar, he surged forward, his mechanical arm swinging wildly. I sidestepped, bringing my blade down hard on the joint of his mech. The metal cracked, sparks flying as the limb seized and hung useless at his side.
There were gasps in the crowd. Then silence. Then a roar of cheers as bloodlust took over the onlookers. They were cheering. For me.
But Kael Drakos had never been a man to accept defeat.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the air, the sudden tension in the crowd. A flicker of movement in my periphery.
Then the glint of a blade.
Too fast. Too close.
I barely had time to turn before the wicked curve of his dagger sliced through the air, aimed straight for my throat. A cheap shot, a killing blow meant to take me out, even in his failure.
There was no time to move.
A metallic whirr split the air, followed by a sickening crack.
Drakos froze, his body jerking. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down at his own blade now embedded in his chest. But how?
There was a hum of energy coming from behind me. Like a ray of sunlight shining on a part of your body. Or how it felt when going through a portal and energy surrounded you.
Jorge had his hand up in a stop motion. A yellow glow pulsed from his hand. I don't know how, but I knew whatever had happened, it had come from Jorge.
Drakos made a choked, wheezing sound, as though trying to form words. Then his body sagged, and he crumpled at my feet.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy. I barely heard them. My hand was being raised in the air as the new victor of the Sun and Moon Games. I didn't care about the victory, just the prize. And he was right beside me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JORGE
The crowd erupted, their voices a thunderous roar. Blood pounded in my ears as it ran from Kael Drakos' empty chest. I turned to see Charlotte, unsure of what I was expecting to see. I'd just killed her hero.
Her dagger gleamed in the sunlight. The metal was dim in comparison to the brilliance of the smile she arrowed directly to my heart. She stepped over the disgraced warrior to get to me.
The cameras were trained on us, thecrystal screens broadcasting every moment. I didn’t care. Let them watch. I pulled her close and kissed her.
We'd done it. We'd won. We were finally free: free to be ourselves, together.
Her lips were soft, but her kiss was fire—hot, desperate, claiming. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch. All I could hear was her sigh against my mouth, the faint hitch in her breath as she kissed me back. She was mine, and I was hers, and nothing else mattered.
We broke apart, our foreheads touching as we fought for breath. The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, declaring us the champions of the Sun and Moon Gauntlet. The crowd screamed our names in a hypnotic chant. It matched the beat of my heart, which had always whispered her name deep inside of me.
We turned to face the crowd, our hands clasped, waving as the cameras zoomed in on us. The crystal screens would be plastered with this moment, the kiss, the victory. They’d turn us into a story, a romance for the ages.
It was as we reached the edge of the stage that the reality crashed back in.
“Jorge? Is that…?”
