Page 118 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

He hits hard. He’s nowhere near King’s size, but he’s still much bigger than I am. But you know what they say: the bigger they are, the faster they die.

I roll my weight and flip him hard onto his back. He wheezes, but he’s already rolling, warily trying to locate me.

He is so out of his league that I almost feel like it’s a crime to kill him.

“You have a friend,” Rolly cheers.

“Rolly,” I growl. “I don’t want a commentary.”

“But you’re going to get one.”

I sigh heavily and whirl in, moving in a spin, showing off just a little bit, all my fancy footwork and speed. It did take me years to get this skilled. A lot of pain, but I know I look damn good, and judging by the way Rolly cheers, I have outperformed myself.

“Oh, that was gorgeous.”

“You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Always. But you still look good kicking his ass.”

I smile and find the assassin staring at me, his expression distorted with rage.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you know how to have fun?”

“You need to go back to where you belong,” he spits. “Your master summons you.”

I sigh heavily. “You know, I thought that too for a long time, and then there’s the whole torture and abuse and dark rooms with concrete floors, and I suddenly realised, fuck that shit, I like beds.”

“And cock!” Rolly adds helpfully. “Look at our girl, all grown up,” Rolly says to King.

“You have a purpose. A reason. He gave you everything.”

I stand up straight, dropping my fighting stance. “I see, I see. So, when did you start reaming his ass? Was it before or after you let him use you like a cock sleeve?”

He roars.

“See, that there. You are so dramatic. I don’t want to go back. Obviously, I won’t go back. I am doing things. Tell him I’m busy.”

He dances in, jab, jab, strike. All his attempts fail to land. I’m much better trained. He’s had me in a dark room all my life. How can I not be?

“Give up already. Tell him you couldn’t find me, I mean it’s not far from the truth.”

“Selfish, horrible, disgusting traitor.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “My feelings are hurt.”

“You’re going to be hurt when I get through with you.”

“Oh, that was really clever. I am visibly cowed.”

King and Rolly laugh.

I don’t see them, but I feel the rest of the pack’s approval. But like Rolly and King, they stand back to the side, listening intently. Not interfering. It makes my heart warm.

He snarls and kicks, pulling out a blade, and I think I might have managed to get him angry enough that he may want to hurt and/or kill me. We spin, kicking, punching, blocking, me staying one hair ahead of that knife, not letting him touch me but letting him close enough that he thinks he has a chance.

I flip back, five times over and over, and land in a crouch.

“Is it my turn now?”