Imminent Threat

by Felisha Antonette

  He grips my waist and steps closer than I expect him to. “Now what?” he asks.

  I stiffen the muscles in my neck, and with my heart pounding, I whisper, “Kiss me.”

  “Where?”

  Everywhere. I smile at the thought. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

  He shrugs. “Trying to see if you are for real. If you’re into me or just fueling your curiosity. Or your interest for the moment.”

  “Do you like me?”

  “You know I do.” He squeezes my waist harder then let’s go. “I would pull you closer, but I don’t want you to take your shirt off,” he says with a smile.

  I laugh too loudly, throwing a gentle punch in his gut. I can’t believe he mentioned that. “That happened,” I admit, cheeks burning.

  He nods, hiding his open-mouthed laugh with a bowed head. I’ve never seen him laugh or smile this freely before. It’s cute. His bottom molars are all silver, and his fronts are white. Maybe that’s why he hides his smile. His lips lighten with their stretch over his happiness. They’re smooth and fit impeccably in front of his teeth. The laughter dies out, and he says, “Yeah it did, but it’s fine.” A grin remains.

  “I think I broke down your walls,” I say, my somber display of emotions ready to shine through.

  Marc quickly sobers, smile vanishing. “No one can soften me, Ky.” Like clouds blowing in and shadowing a town from the sun, Marc’s hooded eyebrows lower, stealing the light from his upbeat disposition. The heavy rasp in his voice puts meaning to his words in a depth of seriousness that makes me want to retract my words.

  I drop my arms. “I’ve… just have never seen you smile freely like this.”

  “Don’t try to uncover me, Ky.”

  Wall to my back, I lean as far as I can away from him. “Why not?”

  His hands fall from my sides, and the emptiness is heavier than when his hands were resting there. “Do you want me to uncover you?”

  I do actually. I’m that wrapped up in you. “Yes,” I answer. His brows knit, and he purses his lips. “No come back for that one, Marc?” I question, stoned by his silence.

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t anticipate that response.”

  “What’s yours? You want me to be with you so you can be with me, but we only exchange short hugs and kisses,” I accuse.

  “No, we started in conversation, and I opened up to you then,” he says, pointing to his chest. “I’m open with you now. Too relaxed.” His shoulders fall as his confession deflates him.

  “And the problem is?” I don’t understand how this works, and maybe that is the problem.

  “I like you, Ky, but we won’t get serious. Never will.”

  My palms are sweating. I look away from him. “You only want to kiss me?” I accuse, moving from the wall to walk around him.

  He steps forward, blocking my way. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”

  My trigger finger twitches when I try to step around him again, and he blocks that way too. “You are not saying much else, Marc.” His rejection steals my confidence, and I need to get away before I reveal that.

  “Can you wait, just for a minute?” I try to move again, and he moves with me. “You are working on getting pinned against this wall.”

  “You are working on getting a knee to the gut.”

  He moves fast and has my legs pinned with my arms at my sides being held there by his. He’s crazy strong and uses his strength to keep me still. “Will you let me explain?” he asks in a low voice. His lips graze my ear, and his chest presses against mine, helping to pin me against the wall.

  “What?” I snap. Him denying what I thought we felt for each other doesn’t level or abolish this thirst or his allure or this senseless attraction. And this is another problem. I have too many forbidden feelings, and every time I reveal them, I could be incriminating myself. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.

  “Hear me out.” The rasp lightens in his voice. “I don’t want to just kiss you. I told you before, I like you, and before I wouldn’t have expressed that, but it happened. It’s okay that it happened.” He kisses my neck. “I wanted it too. But you know we can’t get too involved or too serious because it’ll cause distractions.” Against my mouth, he continues, “As we discussed earlier, you wouldn’t choose me over Luke, and I wouldn’t choose you over Sean. If we get caught up,” he kisses me once, “what do you think will happen?” Stepping away from me, he lets me go. “If you get to know me too well or I get too wrapped up in you, we could risk letting our feelings for each other dominate over the care we should have for our twins.” He leans down halfway to kiss me. “Do you understand?”

  I stare at him, stalling, before I push off the wall and kiss him. “I understand.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Good run-through this morning. All of you have improved, and I am proud to see there are no more failures.” Jord stands on the stage, overlooking us as though he’s a god, while his heavy voice echoes through the mess hall. “Today, there will be one on ones. Everyone will be fighting regardless of your title.”

  Everyone scarfs down the rest of their lunch, each of us eager for the next round of tests. Whoever wins moves up a level. Lose, and it’s not a decrease in spotting, but losers clean the toilets and have to handle the trash.

  After having two days off, and Separation coming up quickly, we’re fighting even harder to prove ourselves. Yesterday, we were required to fight against random members of the teams, and after we kicked their asses, Jord and Seits fought each of us leaders. Many of us still have bruises, too proud to let our twins heal them.

  A few belches sound over Jord as he calls, “Marcain. First up.” Jord didn’t break a sweat going against most of us, only Luke and Marc put up the best fights. But in my defense, Jord is in his thirties, twice my size, and has a right hook that can take out a diesel engine.

  Marc stands from beside me on the floor. Cory jumps to his feet. Seated closer to the front, he leaps onto the stage, saying, “I’m fighting against Marc.”

  “You okay with that, Marc?” Jord asks.

  Marc eyes Cory as he jumps onto the stage in one swift movement. “Yes,” he answers, deep rasps causing me and a couple others to clear our throats.

  “This oughtta be good,” Luke says.

  I adjust so I’m sitting with my knees pulled to my chest, gaze pinned on the two enemies ready to break each other’s necks. “I agree.”

  Cory’s face is a mask of jealousy and anguish. Marc smirks as he cracks his neck. Knowing he doesn’t like Cory, he’ll likely enjoy this.

  “My money’s on Marc,” Luke whispers.

  “No way am I making that bet, we all know Marc is going to kick Cory’s ass.”

  “Ready!” Jord announces. “Until one of you can go no longer.” They both nod, and he says, “Okay. Go for it.”

  If Marc’s able to beat Cory, that may mean bad vibes for Cory as a captain.

  Cory approaches Marc with a punch Marc dodges. Marc comes back with a punch to Cory’s stomach. As Cory bends over, Marc’s elbow connects with Cory’s back, and as Cory lowers from the impact, Marc drives his knee into Cory’s face, causing Cory’s head to whip back hard.

  “Oohh,” sings from the crowd.

  Cory grunts and Marc steps back, letting Cory gather himself. Cory rubs his hand over his mouth, shakes himself out, and glares at Marc.

  Everyone’s quiet, watching the fight.

  “They probably need this to get past the anger you caused between them,” Luke says.

  “Hey, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Don’t be naive. You had everything to do with this.”

  I ignore Luke, turning my attention back to the brawl.

  Cory kicks Marc in his chest. The impact sends Marc flying off his feet and smacking the hardwood floor of the stage.

  I cross my legs to keep from getting up and running on the stage to check on him. He lies there for a second, and Cory quickly cross
es the floor. Drawing his knee high, the heel of his boot plows through the air and onto Marc’s rib cage with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Marc cringes from multiple kicks Cory applies in seconds. Cory snatches Marc up from the floor by his neck. It’s evident in Marc’s red-turning face that Cory has got him tight. Cory’s saying something we can’t hear.

  “He’s too close,” I mutter to Luke.

  “Damn right he is. Watch this.”

  Marc draws his head back and comes back with a rocking headbutt.

  Cory drops him, stumbling back, hand clamped over his nose. Unlike earlier, Marc does not let him rest. He punches him twice, and Cory continues to stumble, head still rocking. Marc rams his foot into Cory’s chest. He lands a kick much like the kick Cory gave to him.

  With his back to us, Cory falls back off the stage. He hits the floor on his back hard, sending everyone scooting back.

  Marc jumps from the stage.

  In the back, we can’t see, and I’m the first of many to stand.

  Before Cory can fully get up, Marc grabs him by his vest, lifting him just enough but not pulling him from the floor. This perfect position allows for every punch he jabs into Cory’s face to be worsened by the back of Cory’s head bouncing off the tile floor. Over and over, he punches Cory, drawing blood by jab number four.

  Cory grabs Marc’s hand on his next punch. He lifts his lower body, wrapping his legs around Marc and slams him backward on the floor using the strength of his legs.

  Marc’s head hits the floor as he falls, slowing him down. Cory has slowed, trying to regain some endurance after Marc likely shook his brain.

  I relax a little, and the muscles in my shoulders ease as I breathe. I don’t know who I want to win because I don’t want either of them to lose. Cory has been my friend forever, and even though he’s been an asshole, he was there when I needed him, and in all honesty, I don’t want him hurt. I’m attracted to Marc, and I care about his well-being. It physically hurts me to see him in pain.

  It’s better if I don’t watch.

  I look down at my boots. My eyes shift back and forth between Luke’s and mine. At every punch and grunt, I change which pair I look at. Something on one of the fighters breaks, the crack causing the crowd to cringe while others cheer.

  “Okay,” Jord yells. “Twin!” There’s no inflection on time that indicates his surprise or expectation of the winner. “Heal, then remove yourselves.”

  It’s silent when I expect people to talk about what happened. I don’t look. I’ve not looked.

  “Collins,” Jord calls.

  Marc returns to my side. We sit, and the girl I saw in Luke’s room stands, saying, “I’ll fight Collins.”

  “Okay,” Jord says.

  Collins is going to murder her.

  “You couldn’t watch me pummel your boyfriend?” Marc asks when we’ve settled onto the floor.

  “Had no doubt you’d win. You got tangled up in his web a few times though, and it made me uncomfortable.” I downplay the event, not wanting to tip him off.

  He snorts.

  Luke pulls my arm and says in my ear, “You are a liar.”

  I peek at him. “Nobody asked you anything.” He’s right, but that’s not what matters. “Watch your girlfriend whoop your other girlfriend.”

  “Yes, Collins is going to beat the shit outta her. But neither of them deserves the title of being my anything.”

  I meet Marc’s stare. Before I speak, he looks away. He’s not an idiot, and it’s pointless to lie to him.

  Collins does away with Luke’s playmate quickly. That wasn’t even a challenge, but I give her props for taking Collins on.

  There’s no one I want to fight, and from what I know, I’m in good standing with everyone here. “Ky,” Jord calls.

  “I’m going to fight against you, Ky,” Luke says as I stand. I nod, walking away from him, as I overhear him say, “I’ll fight against Ky.”

  “Yes!” Jord cheers. “I have been waiting to see this.” He claps and leans forward on his knees.

  Well that’s just great. I jump onto the stage. Luke’s right behind me. He smiles at me, and I return it. “You are going to take it easy on me, right?” I joke.

  “Never.” He steps to the side and brings his arm up so I will meet it with mine. I walk to him, placing my forearm to his. “I’m going to try to kill you.”

  “I hope so.” He bumps the side of my fist with his.

  Jord laughs and says to his sister, “This will be interesting.”

  She responds, “Like you and me.”

  Luke smacks my face. “Pay attention,” he says laughing.

  Reverting my attention back to him, I shake my head. “Cheap shot for you, Luke.” He backs away. Our vests are off, tossed aside. We wait for Jord to yell for us to start.

  “If you two kill each other there will be no one available to heal you,” he says with humor in his tone. “Ready!” I peer at Luke through my lashes, daring him. “Okay.”

  Before Jord finishes the word, I charge toward Luke, jumping to kick him in the face. He ducks, dodging it and roughly shoves me once I’m over him. I tumble in landing, and quickly rise back on my feet.

  He doesn’t approach me.

  I charge toward him again. I slide under him, clipping his legs so he falls forward. He hits the ground, face-planting in the wood. I’m up, rushing across the floor. I kick him hard enough he flips over, then I straddle him. Punches lightning fast, I throw jabs in his face and neck.

  He coughs and gags, trying to block my fast blows. I hit him harder when he doesn’t stop me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see his legs rise beside me. They wrap around the front of my neck. I’m pulled back, and he slams me hard onto the floor. He lifts me back up, using his lower body, and slams me even harder twice more.

  My head’s spinning.

  I’m limited with options to get out of his hold.

  I punch him as hard as I can on his inner thighs until he lets me go.

  I move from him, needing to make sure I have my balance and can focus after having my head slammed into the ground. I float for a second. Luke lets me have this moment. I take another step back, rubbing the back of my head. It’s dry, thankfully.

  “You ready, Ky?” he asks.

  He finally stops swaying, and the room stills. I nod, and he charges toward me. I spin out of the way and ram my foot into his back on my turn around. I jump, giving him another kick in the back. He hits the floor again.

  He’s back up before I know it.

  When fighting Luke, I’m good if I can avoid his punches. He packs a massive punch that can knock me unconscious.

  He charges.

  I try to bring my fist to his face, but he ducks and punches my stomach twice. I buckle over, and he rams his fist into my cheek, drawing back twice.

  I’m dazed, stumbling away from him. He stalks me like a lion hunting a gazelle. Like a hungry claw, his fist draws back again, ready for attack. I grab it before it connects and bring my elbow down on his arm, hoping it breaks. Shit. It doesn’t. I release his fist, using my now free hand to swing a punch at his face.

  Effective.

  I hit his jaw, busting my knuckles.

  Enraged, I use the pain and take two steps back and kick his chest. He stumbles back, and as I shake out my hand I just busted, I bring my right to punch him anywhere my attacks will land.

  Going in for my third punch, he grabs my hand, and his other takes my neck. He swipes my feet from under me, lifts me and slams me down on the floor harder than he needs to. “Ahh,” I groan from the pain shooting through my back.

  He yells over my agony, “Call it, Ky.”

  I analyze my predicament. “Not happening,” I tell him, lifting my leg to hook around his neck. Something he wasn’t expecting.

  Choking him with my thighs, I flip him, and his lower body smashes against the edge of the stage. He grunts in agony from the impact. I lock my legs around his neck, trying to s
trangle him. His neck hardens under my legs as he clinches, fighting for his life. He knows I have him. I grab his arm that is punching my legs, and I hit his face. This way I have his body half on the stage and half off makes it difficult for him to flip back and get out of my hold.

  He twists my arm, and I punch his shoulder to stop him. He grunts loudly, and I bend it, never letting up on my hold or my jabs.

  Luke grabs my knee in front of him. The pressure around my kneecap builds. “Call it, Ky!” he tells me, squeezing the joint harder, trying to pop off its cap.

  “AAAHHH!” I scream, punching him. “Give, Luke,” I yell, pained and aggravated.

  He slams the arm he’s twisting into my abdomen. My legs loosen from the pain, and he pops my knee. I ram my foot into his shoulder, and he falls off the stage. I buckle over in pain—lying on my side—one arm around my stomach, the other around my knee.

  He grabs me, turning me onto my back, and punches me in the face. By my shirt, he tugs me to stand. Blood’s pouring into my mouth from my busted lips. His arm comes back, and I grab it before he hits me again.

  I jump, ignoring the pain in my knee, and use him as my leverage to help wrap my legs around his neck. One movement. I yank back and slam us backward on the floor. It stings and causes a jolt of pain to shoot down to my toes.

  I rest on my back, not intending to knock myself out from my maneuver. Luke flips me on my stomach and sits on my back. He bends my legs back with his arm wrapped around my neck. “Call it, Ky. I got you.”

  He does have me choked, and I can’t get my arms around him or use my legs because they’re bent awkwardly behind me. I claw at his arms around my neck, but he tightens his grip.

  Seits comes to the stage. With Luke’s chokehold, she fades in and out as the darkness takes over the edges of my sight. “Don’t give up, Kylie,” she tells me with her elbow slowly driving backward.

  Yes!

  With as much might as I can muster, I ram my elbow into Luke’s side. A couple of his ribs crack under the impact.

  He lets go.

  I fall to the floor on my arms, gasping for air. I take the two seconds he’s down to catch my breath.

  I need to be up before him.