Page 11 of In Darkness We Claim

During previous fights, my quick reaction times and my ability to assess my opponent easily have always given me the upper hand. However, thanks to the drugs coursing through my system, I no longer have those advantages, so I’m going to have to wing it.

I take a threatening step toward the man, letting him know the knife doesn’t scare me, though that’s not entirely true. If I hadn’t been drugged, I wouldn’t think twice about getting the knife off him and ending his life with it, but it will not be that easy this time.

As predicted, the man freaks out when I get too close, and he lunges for me, his blade stretched out in front of him. My head is screaming at me to move out of the way, but the fucking haze means I take longer than I’d like, and I feel the sting of his knife when it slices through my arm as he stumbles past me.

I hiss loudly as blood trickles from the wound, pain registering a few seconds later, but I don’t have time to even think because he’s turning, getting ready to lunge at me again. He doesn’t have any proper fighting skills or training from what I can tell, but with my reaction times, he doesn’t need them.

I’m able to slide out of the way at the last second, letting out a relieved sigh when he doesn’t make contact again, though this is short-lived when he punches me in the head from behind with his free hand. I spin to face him, anger coursing through my veins as I glare at my opponent, who looks almost surprised by what he just did.

“Motherfucker,” I growl.

He takes a frightened step back, before seeming to gather more courage and running at me again with his knife. This time the blade grazes my ribs, and I curse myself for leaving my side open to attack. I had lifted my arm to return the favour, punching him in the face at the same time his knife sliced through my skin.

As pain ripples through me, I experience a moment of clarity, as the adrenaline pushes past the effects of the drugs. My head is clear enough to form a plan, as I realise I’m never going to win if I fight the way I always do. I don’t have the reaction times to beat him, but I’m still the best fucking Crow Pledge for a reason.

I study the man in front of me, and that’s when it hits me: I can preempt his actions. Rather than reacting to what he does, I can monitor his movements and predict what he’s going to do next. He’s not a fighter, so he doesn’t have a set strategy, making this a little harder, but not impossible.

He’s moving quickly, not stopping to think about what he’s going to do next, and that’s working to his advantage as I’m slower than him, but now I can outsmart him, as long as my head remains clear.

Even though it hurts like a bitch, I press my finger against the cut on my ribs, hissing when the pain shoots through me. A sick smile spreads across my face when a rush of adrenaline helps keep my thoughts clear.

As the man charges at me, instead of trying to get out of his way, I raise my hands to fight him. His blade slices one of my palms, but my other hand lands a firm punch to his nose. The sickening sound of bones crunching echoes around us as blood gushes over his face.

He screams loudly, lifting his free hand to his nose to stem the bleeding, whilst keeping his knife outstretched in warning. But the pain and bleeding have him distracted, and I reach for the knife in an attempt to disarm him.

Unfortunately, he catches sight of me at the last minute, and uses my slow speed against me. Instead of dropping his hand, so I’m not able to grab the weapon, he lunges forward, stabbing it into my shoulder, before ripping it out just as quickly.

A scream leaves my lips as pain shoots through my arm, causing my fingers to tingle as blood oozes down my arm and chest. When I try to move my arm, the pain worsens, and I have no choice but to hold it by my side, taking it completely out of use.

Even with only one hand, I’m better than most guys, and the throbbing pain in my arm is providing me with a clear enough head to read his movements. When he lunges at me again, I let him hit me in the face as I swoop my hand underneath his outstretched arm and grab the knife.

As soon as I have hold of the handle, it doesn’t take much to tug it out of his grasp, and I watch the fear seep into his wide eyes as he takes a step back from me, holding his hands out in surrender.

I don’t hesitate, since I don’t know how much time I have left on the clock. With one swift movement, I slice the blade over his throat, slitting his flesh open enough for blood to pour from the wound.

He makes panicked gurgling noises as he tries to breathe, his hand flying to his neck to stem the bleeding, but we both know it’s too late. As he sways from one foot to the other, I quickly reach out and grab the key that’s hanging around his neck, holding it tight as he drops to the floor.

I watch as he takes his last gargled breath; the light leaving his eyes, though they remain open as death takes him. I step over the body as though it’s nothing but an inconvenience, though it’s not the drugs that are dulling my emotions. This is my job, and despite not knowing his crime, if the Obsidian Order wants him dead, I have to make that happen.

Once I’m sure he’s dead, I turn on my heel and stagger out of the room; the pain ricocheting through my body no longer working in my favour. When combined with the drugs, I’m feeling exhausted, and I send out a silent hope that there’s not another challenge behind whatever door this key opens.

Once I’m back in the corridor, I keep going in the opposite direction to where I first woke up, only this time, I ignore the cell doors on either side. I move as quickly as I can, turning corners until I see a different style of door up ahead. It’s a plain metal door, not like the cells I’ve been passing.

I stop in front of it, breathing a sigh of relief when I see the lock fits the size key I have clasped in my bloody hand. Now I just need to hope it fits.

It takes several attempts just to get the key in the lock, given my shaky hands, the pain running through my body, and my heavy limbs. My heart is racing with anticipation of what might be on the other side, and when the lock clicks open, I push my body into high-alert before turning the handle.

As the door swings open, I keep my feet planted shoulder-width apart, my good hand lifted slightly in a fighting stance, as I prepare to face whatever is on the other side. I tuck my injured arm into my side, holding it firm as I try to ignore how much it fucking hurts.

My whole body sags, and I let out an audible sigh when I see Xander standing in the room, his face exposed as he holds his mask in his hand. There are around ten Obsidian Order members standing behind him with their masks in place, and I can tell by the gold colour and ornate markings that every one of them are Obsidian Council members.

The person at the very end catches my attention, as I’d know my father’s mask anywhere. Of course, he’d want to be here to watch my challenge, no doubt critiquing me harsher than anyone else.

Xander’s powerful voice pulls my attention to him. “Congratulations, Lawson. Not only did you pass your assignment, but you broke the Crows’ record for the fastest completion in just one hour and forty-three minutes. I have to confess, I’m a little jealous, given I’m the one who set the record you broke, when I did it in one hour and forty-six minutes.”

The numbers echo around my brain, which is throbbing more now than before, as I struggle to make sense of what he’s saying. I would have guessed I took well over two hours searching that fucking room, let alone how long it took me to find the guilty guy before fighting him.

“I really did it that quickly? It felt like fucking forever,” I grumble.