Page 181 of Romancing in Rot

Her smile vanishes, and she charges.

Here. We. Go.

Lyla’s voice snaps through my head. Don’t meet strength with strength if you don’t have to. Redirect. Move. Make them spend themselves.

Rhea comes in fast, faster than I expect, one fist swinging for my face. I duck, but not enough. Her knuckles graze my temple, and pain bursts white behind my eyes. I stumble sideways, boots slipping in leftover blood.

Rhea turns with me and drives her knee toward my stomach. I twist, taking it against my hip instead. Pain shoots down my bad leg, and my scar burns like the bullet is still there, still fresh, still taking pieces of me.

Russ’s voice whispers from somewhere in memory.

You wouldn’t have made it far anyway.

I bare my teeth.

Watch me.

Rhea swings again, wide and angry this time, her fist cutting through the air where my jaw was a second before. I step inside the arc before she can pull back and drive my elbow into her ribs. Bone bumps hard beneath my strike. She grunts, breath bursting from her mouth in a hot, sour rush, and I hit her again, lower this time, right beneath the cage of her ribs where Lyla taught me the body keeps its softer truths.

Rhea’s face pinches.

I don’t give her room to recover. I slam my palm into her shoulder, turning her just enough to throw off her balance, then hook my fist into the meat above her hip. She staggers, boots slipping through blood, and I hear Lyla’s voice in my head like she’s standing beside me.

Soft spots. Joints. Throat. Eyes. Knees.

Places that make the body remember it is only meat and nerves.

Rhea snarls and reaches for me, but I drop low and kick the side of her knee. Not hard enough to break it. Not yet. Just enough to make it buckle. Her leg dips, and the crowd roars as she catches herself with one hand against the tile, fingers sliding through someone else’s blood.

She springs up fast and grabs my hair.

Pain rips across my scalp as she yanks me down. I slam my fist into her thigh once, twice, then she knees me in the side of the head. The mall flashes bright and tilted. My knees hit the tile, and warm blood immediately soaks through the denim.

The crowd roars approval.

The world tilts.

Then Poppy screams my name.

I drive my shoulder into Rhea’s stomach and tackle her backward. We hit the tile hard, sliding through blood and grime. Something sharp digs into my palm. A tooth, maybe. A piece of bone. I don’t have time to care. Rhea claws at my face, nails cutting hot lines down my cheek. I grab her wrist and roll, trying to pin her, but she bucks under me, strong and furious.

Too strong. Better trained. Probably used to this.

So I fight ugly.

I slam my forehead into Rhea’s nose.

Bad idea.

Pain detonates through my skull so hard I almost vomit. Rhea screams as blood pours from her nostrils over her mouth and chin, thick and immediate, running into her teeth while she curses at me.

She shoves me off, and I roll onto my knees, breathing hard. My white tank top is streaked red. My sweater hangs off one shoulder, torn at the sleeve. Blood drips from my chin, though I don’t know if it’s mine or hers.

Probably both.

Rhea wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m going to peel you open.”

I pant and spit blood. “Is that what they’re doing now to your brother?” I gesture around us.