Page 133 of Desecrated Saints
SEVEN
SOMEBODY ELSE - CIRCA WAVES
My fist sails straight into Hudson’s face before he can duck and avoid it. I savour his yelp of pain, watching him fall to his knees in the boxing ring. We decided to forgo headgear, so he only has himself to blame for the black eye. I never agreed to pull my punches.
“Dammit, Sev!”
“Too slow,” I drone. “Your reflexes are shit.”
Spitting blood on the mat, he finds his feet again. “I’m not some psychotic trained killer, so excuse me for taking a hit. You could go a bit easier on me.”
“Nobody else will. I’m preparing you for the real world, pretty boy. Patient Delta killed that piece of shit right under our noses. You need to be ready to fight.”
“She has a name. That’s Brooklyn’s mum you’re talking about.”
“No,” I growl at him. “That’s the piece of shit who killed my sister. Next time I see her, you best take our girl away, because I’m gonna cave her fucking head in. Sentiment be damned.”
“Good luck breaking Brooke’s heart, you moron.”
“She has enough people to pick up the pieces.”
With a curse, Hudson crouches back in position. This time, his boxing glove manages to connect with my stomach. I barely feel the burst of pain. We’ve been beating on each other for several hours now; I doubt there’s a part of me that isn’t bruised from his fists.
“How did she even get in?” Hudson wipes his forehead.
I manage to strike him in the ribs. “We were trained to blend in. Invisible, like phantoms passing through shadows. We didn’t exist. Only Augustus’s machines were allowed to walk this earth.”
“Nobody is that good, not even Lazlo’s prized patient.”
“You’re too cocky. It’ll be the death of you out there.”
With a snarl, his forehead smashes into mine. I see stars for a moment, shaking my head to clear the haze. The smug son of a bitch looks far too pleased with his headbutt. In retaliation, I deliver a roundhouse kick to his midsection.
“Motherfucker! I need a break,” Hudson wheezes.
“You wanna sit around and wait for news like the rest of them?”
Before I can react, his foot sweeps out and catches my ankles. I go down hard and fast, my back smacking into the floor. Breathing becomes difficult as I stare up at his smug grin.
“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’d rather beat the shit out of you.”
Offering me a hand up, we return to our vicious sparring. It’s another sweaty, bruising hour before our solitude is disturbed. Eight saunters into the training room, wearing her workout gear—a pair of yoga pants and a tight, revealing sports bra. I clip Hudson around the ear when he gets distracted.
“Fuck off!” he bellows.
“Pay attention. I’m not playing a game here.”
We beat on each other until Eight slides through the bungee cords, not bothering to wrap her hands or put gloves on. She’s eyeing us both with violent anticipation, her body seeming to thrum all over. I haven’t heard her speak a single word since Lazlo’s body was found.
“Can we help you?” Hudson smarts.
She stretches her arms above her head. “Hunter, Enzo and Theo are in a meeting with the SCU. Kade is doing his obsessive-cleaning thing while Phoenix and Eli finish a bottle of rum. I need a distraction.”
“I’m guessing one that doesn’t involve talking about what happened.”
“Definitely not,” Eight retorts.
Undoing the Velcro on my glove with my teeth, I toss it aside. “Come spar with us. But if you step inside this ring, you can’t leave, princess. Don’t expect us to go easy on you.”
