Home > Alien Mercenary's Prize (Lathar Mercenaries : Warborne Book 3)(3)

Alien Mercenary's Prize (Lathar Mercenaries : Warborne Book 3)(3)
Author: Mina Carter

“Almost,” she reached for a small injector, pressing it to her neck. The hiss as the scent-blockers hit her bloodstream made her wince, but it was necessary. Some fighters used chemical enhancement on their senses, sensitive to pheromones. She didn’t want her own biology to give another fighter an advantage.

“Okay, good to go.”

She turned and followed him out of the door. As soon as they entered the hall, the noise hit her like a wall of sound.

“Cage Queen! Cage Queen! Cage Queen!” the crowd chanted.

She ignored them like she always did. Sallac and one of his buddies walked on either side of her, stopping the crowd from reaching out to touch her. They didn’t get paid for it, not from her anyway. She refused to share any of her winnings, not even in wages to the staff most fighters maintained. She suspected they did it for the kudos—the social standing that came from being linked with the cage champion.

Halfway down the ramp, though, a small group stepped out to block her path. She pulled up short, keeping her expression neutral.

Vasa Netzon stood in front of her, his bully boys staring Sallac and Hinge down. A privacy bubble snapped into place, cutting off the sound of the crowd roaring and ensuring their conversation remained between them.

“Natalia!” He smiled the greasy smile of the professionally morally corrupt. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”

He’d asked her to work for him months ago. She’d said no, but he’d kept up the pressure since, each offer more salubrious and enticing than the last. The last one had included a house in her name in New Manatri, more money than she could imagine, and a harem of men and women, whatever took her fancy, for her bed. All if she said yes and became his creature, did his bidding as he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.

It was enticing, but for one thing. She’d never be able to leave. Not just the planet but him. No one ever left Vasa.

“Thank you for the kind offer,” she said, ignoring the fact Sallac and Hinge stiffened beside her. No one said no to Vasa. Until her. “But my answer is no.”

Anger flared in the back of Vasa’s eyes, and he stepped forward. She stood her ground, refusing to show fear. Fear was a weakness. A shark like Vasa would smell it like blood in the water. His expensive cologne wound around her as he leaned in to murmur in her ear.

“Are you sure? Rell looks like he’s going to go the full ten rounds,” he said, looking up at the banner of her opponent on the wall to their right. He was a tall ex-ganger, the scar on his cheek ruined by an energy lance burn.

She shrugged. “He does. He doesn’t. Fate will decide.”

“Uhmmm, well, I would have thought a savvy woman like you might want to consider giving fate a little helping hand...” His lips curved into a small smile. “He’s one of mine. One gesture and I can have him go down... shall we say in the seventh? Give you a good showing. The crowd will never realize.”

She drew in a deep breath. She should have known Rell was one of Vasa’s. He was an asshole with a brutal rep, which ensured popularity with the crowds. But his technique was sloppy. She’d wondered how he’d won against some of the fighters he had. It all made sense now.

“No thanks.” She winked. “I’m good.”

“Pity,” Vasa mused, reaching out to stroke a fingertip down her cheek. She yanked her head back, nostrils flaring as she clamped down on the temptation to knock his teeth out. “You had such a pretty face as well. If there’s anything half decent left after this, I might see my way clear to offering you a room in one of my houses on Joule Street. Plenty of customers will pay to fuck a fighter, even a defeated one. They don’t care how fucked up you look.”

“Fuck you,” she hissed, glaring at him with her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Ahh, well,” he chuckled. “You might get your wish there. I always test out our new girls. I might even let you heal a little first, just to be nice. Or,” his voice hardened, “then again, I might not. I do like a screamer. Good luck with your fight.”

 

 

2

 

 

She kept her expression impassive as the privacy bubble snapped off, growling an obscene curse under her breath as the roar of the crowd came back. Vasa touched his fetlock in a mocking salute as he stepped back into the crowd again. The masses parted as he and his entourage made their way back to his "box," a group of seats with the best view. She doubted he paid for them. Men like him never paid for anything they didn’t have to.

She put that from her mind as she continued down to the cage. Once there, she turned to salute the crowd, one fist in the air. It was all she gave them, ever. Even if she didn’t want to, she knew she had to. They were the ones who bet on her, after all, making her popular in the ring. It was a tight, corrupt little loop.

They responded with a roar that nearly raised the roof. If the cops hadn’t already been paid off, they’d know for sure something was going on in here. No amount of sound suppressors could contain that much noise.

Turning, she ducked through the small gate in the side of the cage as Sallac held it open for her. Meeting his eye, she gave him a small nod, and he locked it behind her. It would only be unlocked again when she’d either won or was dead. Vasa’s threats held no power in here. If she didn’t win, she wouldn’t step out of the cage.

“Ready to die, queen bitch?” a gravelly voice called out.

She turned to face her opponent. Rell had at least a foot and probably well over a hundred pounds on her. On paper, the match was utter suicide. But the prize pot was the biggest she’d ever seen and the only thing that had gotten her back in the cage.

“Always,” she shot back. “Are you?”

“I’m not going to die, little girlie, but I’m gonna take you apart.” He laughed and threw his arms in the air as the crowds outside chanted his name.

She ignored his theatrics and rolled her shoulders. She’d made sure to stretch and warm up while in the prep room, limbering up. All that remained now was getting her head into the game. Taking a deep breath, she pushed everything out of her mind until her reality narrowed down to the surrounding cage, the floor under her feet, and Rell in front of her.

All that mattered was winning, her entire being focused on the outcome of this match. But she didn’t focus on the what-ifs and maybes. In here she lived a quarter minute at a time. Everything narrowed down to the next few seconds.

The bell rang and she moved.

Launching herself into motion, she ran at the side of the cage, leaping up to plant a booted foot against the mesh. Twisting violently in mid-air, she lashed out, catching Rell across the jaw.

He staggered back, a stunned look on his face. The crowd roared in approval as she dropped back down to the floor behind him.

He whipped around wildly, swinging for her. She ducked, evading his swings, and slammed two heavy punches into the left of his ribcage.

Like with all her opponents, she’d studied his form and checked out his history. Often, she watched previous matches until late into the night, figuring out how best to beat each opponent. The highly analytical approach had been both her calling card and the root of her success. It meant she knew that Rell had sustained bad breaks to his ribs on that side and had scarred lungs due to an industrial accident on the docks as well as the fact his right knee had been replaced.

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