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Blinking hard, I tried to force my lungs to suck in a breath, but he’d knocked the wind out of me.
No matter, breath would come eventually. I just had to stay alive until then. Mari needed me to finish this.
Cash didn’t have the same idea. He pulled my head up and smashed it back down on the floor below us. I groaned, feeling skin split and blood pour. Head wounds were notoriously heavy bleeders, so I couldn’t be sure he’d done lasting damage.
Feet planted on the floor, I rolled us, tossing hard blows to his ribs as I went. For every injury he gave me, I’d give him one back. Cash landed on his back much softer than I had, already on the offensive. He slid his knees up to keep me from pinning him and swung an elbow at my nose. The crack made my eyes water, but I doubled down, punching every exposed area I could. Finally, he got his legs in a place where he could kick my chest, shoving me off him long enough to get to his feet.
“You were always weak,” he taunted. “Too weak to lead, too weak to live.”
“Yet here I am, alive.” My leg lifted into a roundhouse before I’d even consciously thought it, taking Cash straight in the jaw.
“For now.” He grinned, blood dripping from his mouth. “Not for long, though.”
Being a merc had taught me a lot about defeating my opponents. How to watch their bodies for what they’d do next, how to get in their heads and throw them off their game. How to hunt down my prey.
This was the culmination. Cash’s death would come from the monster he’d made.
How fitting.
We battled until we were both sweating and exhausted. Every move I made, Cash blocked. Every punch he threw, I swerved. Despite my training and the age gap between us, we were too similar. But Cash had one thing on me.
Unpredictability.
Just as he was swinging a serious left hook, he dropped to his knees and sent it toward my legs instead. His punch landed square at the bend of my knee, and it took me out. I wasn’t on my back for a second before he sprang and laid into me.
Every punch had a different reminder.
“Poor little Nate with his fucked-up mom and his dead girlfriend. I’m so sad. Everyone around me dies. You could’ve been a hero. You could’ve ruled this fucking city at my side, but instead, you chose her. Was it worth betraying your brother?”
“Yes,” I hissed.
His eyes tightened, and he moved, trapping my arms between his legs and my own body so I couldn’t get them out. Couldn’t defend myself as he wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed.
This wasn’t the gentle choke of two brothers horsing around; this was stealing the breath from my lungs. Killing me slowly and painfully.
There was no mercy in suffocation. No mercy in the panic that came when air wouldn’t.
This was Cash’s final torture. “I always knew you weren’t fit to be my brother, and you’ve proven me right time and time again. But this is too far. She is too far.” He shook my head, hands tightening their grip. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Beckstrom.”
“Good thing I’m not a Beckstrom,” I spat. “I’m a Marcosa.”
That was the ultimate sin to my brother. Giving up my name, my birthright, for her.
He couldn’t allow me to survive the disrespect.
Cash bore down on my neck with nothing but rage and death in his eyes. That was fine. My reason for living was gone anyway.
Black spots danced in my vision, slowly crowding the world until all I could see was darkness. I tried to extricate my hands, tried to shift so I could get him off my chest, but there was no freeing myself. I was going to die with him in front of me.
Fuck that.
I tried to turn my head just a little. I didn’t want to die with my brother’s face in front of me. I wanted to see Mari.
My girl.
My angel.
The love of my fucking life.
