Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“I’m going to fuck you up, little girl,” he snarls. “Gonna tear off your head and—”
“Right, I get it. Gross.” It hurts to talk, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to hear him talk about all the awful things he wants to do with my body.
I should thank him for making it easier to kill him. But I don’t know if I’m going to win.
The Giant reaches out and snatches me off my feet. The move jars my sore body, and the pain takes my breath away. His hand clamps around my throat, tightening, squeezing. Cutting off my air. I’m choking, my feet kicking in the air.
He raises me above his head. If he slams me to the floor, it’s all over. I open my mouth and let a stream of blood trickle into his eyes.
He opens his mouth, roaring. He tosses me away, and by some miracle, I land on the ropes and not the platform or the concrete beyond the fighting ring. The cords cut into my side—owwwww—but I slide to the ground. Something twinges in my ankle. I’m hurting. I’ve probably broken something.
But I’m still in one piece. And I’m sweating. The poison’s coming out of my pores.
The Giant is scrubbing at his face, covered in my blood. It’s probably beginning to burn.
He spits a few times, but it’s too late for him. I’m in his system now.
I step forward. He swings for me, but it goes wild. I duck it, cackling. This is fun! The Giant staggers, still rubbing at his eyes.
The crowd falters, realizing something’s wrong. Their chosen champion isn’t fighting like he should.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” I ask. “Hogweed and manicheel sap. It burns. Causes blindness.”
Dominus is on his feet. “Finish her,” he shouts in a rasping voice.
I smile at him with my mouth bloody.
The Giant wipes a hand over his mouth. His eyes are swelling up. His throat will be next.
I wipe some sweat onto my palm and run past him, slapping his arm. His left, then his right.
He swings for me out of habit but misses.
I dance in and miscalculate. His slap knocks me across the ring again. I fall to the ground, laughing. My face aches.
I spit blood into my hand. Blood and part of a tooth. So, he did break one.
But the pain is so far away. Adrenaline is my friend, keeping the pain at bay, fueling me.
The Giant is twitching, frowning. He’s rubbing his skin now, trying to reach everywhere I touched him. Red handprints—my handprints—stand out on his huge muscles. The poison is working.
“Bella, no,” someone bellows.
It’s Kaiser. He’s woken up.
He’s still surrounded by a group of masked Fraternitas men, who are holding him back. He bellows, fighting. One of his arms breaks free for a second before they grab him again.
Damn, I got the dose wrong! I’ve got to end this before he tears across the room and tries to fight. He’s swaying like he’s still half-drugged.
I grin and wave, then realize I’m covered in blood, so I blow him a kiss. It only seems to rile Kaiser up more. Oops.
Jaeger punches him in the face, and he goes down.
Yikes. I wince.
I’d better end this.
The Giant is touching his face like he doesn’t understand what it is.
“Does it feel numb? That’s another symptom,” I inform him. “Let me tell you something. It doesn’t take much poison to kill a grown man. You think you’re invincible, but the bigger you are…”
He swings for me, and I easily evade him.
“The harder you fall.”
I feint a punch to his dick, and he doubles over to protect his crotch. Both hands cover his groin area, so I jab my fingers into his eyes.
He shouts in pain, and I spit in his mouth.
Then I back away. It’ll be over soon.
The Giant retches, but nothing comes up but air. His airways are swelling, too. I dosed him with everything I could.
His head lolls back, red-tinged tears streaming down his face. His eyes are bloody. Ooh, that looks bad.
The end is near. Which is good because I’m swaying on my feet. My head is throbbing.
But I’m still riding a wave of adrenaline, floating high above the pain.
“Let’s face it, you underestimated me. But everyone did.” I lean in. He tries to swat me like a fly, but his hand falters. “You thought you were stronger than me. But there are many forms of strength.” Oops, I’m monologuing again. But I can’t resist. “Tell me now… how does it feel to be weak?”
He groans. The poison inside must be like putting a blowtorch to his insides.
“Poor baby,” I croon. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”
He’s shivering. He curls into himself. His hands stiffen into claws.
“Three, two…”
He takes a step. He tries to take another, but his foot won’t move. Bloody foam pours from his mouth.