Nishi knew we had arrived. Would my presence give her the courage to do what she had to do?
You can do this, little one.
If for some reason she wasn’t able to do this, then I was prepared to step in.
To save her.
Because no matter what happened tonight, I couldn’t allow her own father to kill her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Nishi
Logan was here. The dregs had arrived. They’d made their way inside the campus.
His presence gave me strength. Courage.
I had sensed him as I’d reached the building, my gaze automatically searching through the darkness for him. He’d been nothing more than a shadow in the dark, the whites of his eyes the only thing visible. He was crouching down in the bushes next to the building. I feared that if I noticed him, one of my father’s men would, as well. So I’d quickly turned my head, not wanting to give his presence away.
I had to win this fight. Then I could tell the rest of the Dragons to back down and let the dregs leave. They would have no choice but to do it because I would be their new leader.
And if you lose, then what, Nishi? You’ll be dead. You won’t have that future with Logan.
I had to be the victor tonight. I couldn’t let my father win.
Most of the Black Dragons had already gathered around the fighting mat. They screamed and hooted and yelled as my father stepped into the center of the mat. He made a gesture with his arm and everyone quieted.
“As most of you know,” he said in English. “My daughter has challenged me to a fight. To the death. If she wins, she will be your new leader. If I win, I will no longer have a daughter for you all to ogle.”
A few chuckles and snickers erupted around the room. Did they really find death amusing? What was wrong with these people? Or were they laughing about ogling me? Assholes. What kind of father would make a comment like that about his own daughter?
He has to die. You have to kill him, Nishi. He’s not your father. He’s a monster.
Ling stepped onto the fighting mat. While Katsu had died the night the dregs had crashed the wedding and freed me, Ling had apparently survived.
“Choose your weapons.” He glanced at my father. My father waved at me, wanting me to choose first.
Of course, he did. The person who chose last would have the advantage of choosing a better weapon over the person who had chosen first.
Since this was a fight to the death, I wanted a deadly weapon. “Knife,” I announced.
My father smirked, watching as Ling let me choose from an array of different fighting knives. I chose one with a long, serrated blade that I believed would do the most damage.
Ling turned to my father. “Choose your weapon.”
My father’s chilling gaze landed on me again. “Sword.”
My father was the best sword fighter I’d ever seen. While I had been trained in sword fighting, I wasn’t very good at it, unable to hold the weight of a sword for very long. I was better at knifes.
Be brave, Nishi. You can do this.
My father selected a sword of his liking and stepped back, swishing it through the air.
Ling motioned to us. We each took up our stance, me holding the knife, my father wielding a large sword.
Ling waved his arm down, signaling the start of the fight.
My father and I eyed each other, slowly circling. My father’s face was expressionless, cold. Calculating. He was waiting for me to mess up. So he could kill me. I wasn’t his flesh and blood. I was just a nuisance, a pesky fly he wanted to slap dead. A nameless, faceless head he wanted to chop off with his sword.
I had to think of him as a pesky fly, too, or I wouldn’t be able to do this.
He stole you, Nishi. He made you a slave, a prisoner. He is responsible for Mama’s death.
My father danced forward, bringing the sword down. I darted aside just as the blade swooshed past me, narrowly missing my face.
I followed my father as he stepped back, swinging my knife at him. He jerked back and spun around, bringing the sword down again. I danced back, but I wasn’t quick enough, and the sword struck my knife, knocking it from my hand. Pain arced up my wrist and into my arm.
Now I was weaponless against the best sword fighter I’d ever seen. My confidence slipped another notch.
You are a shadow warrior. You can do this.
I lifted my chin, meeting my father’s cold gaze.
He launched a swift roundhouse kick toward me, aiming for my head with his foot and striking out with the sword at the same time.
I bounced aside in the nick of time, his foot thrashing past my head, while the blade hissed down just inches from my arm.
That had been close. Too close.
I needed to disarm my father so I had a fair chance.
He charged at me again, and this time the blade swiped along my abdomen as I jumped back, leaving a thin trail of blood behind. An instant sting tingled along my skin. The wound wasn’t deep, just a nick, but it still hurt.
Then my father did the unexpected. He tossed his sword aside and stepped toward me with a sneer. Did he think I was so pathetic that he could easily take me down? Or was he getting tired of holding the sword?
He’s trying to intimate you, make you feel weak. Don’t let him.
Now our only weapons were our own bodies.
Remember the moves Jacob taught you. Death moves.
Jacob had taught me several methods for killing with my bare hands that I hadn’t yet known about. I tried to visualize them in my mind right now, recalling ways to kill…
A hard strike to a temple, which was a very susceptible spot. May cause unconsciousness or death.
A fierce blow to the nasion (the summit of the nose). If struck with sufficient force may cause death.
A severe blow to the philtrum, which is the area between the upper lip and the bottom of the nose. May cause unconsciousness or death.
A strong hook to the jaw, which could snap an opponent’s neck.
A sharp blow to the Adam’s apple could cause the enemy to asphyxiate.
A blow to the cerebellum (the base of the neck) can cause mortal damage.
Apparently all the dregs knew of these moves, but Jacob was the best fighter, so he was the one who trained me. I don’t know if my father didn’t know of these killing methods (which was highly unlikely) or if he had intentionally not taught me these to give himself an advantage in such a situation. I suspected it was the latter. But he didn’t know I had been trained by the best. Tonight, I might have to use one of those methods to take my father down. To kill him.
Jacob had shown me other killing methods as well.
A powerful blow to the small of the back can cause the backbone to break.
A hard blow to the tail bone can be fatal.
A vicious shattering of the rib cage can cause internal bleeding.
Clapping the hands harshly over an opponent’s ears can burst his eardrums and cause internal bleeding in the brain…
There were others, of course. Many others. Whether or not I got an opportunity to use any of these killing methods all depended on how this fight played out. And whether or not I was actually able to deliver a killing blow to my father if the moment struck.
We continued to dance around slowly, throwing kicks, strikes, letting out grunts when we struck our mark. My father hit me in the abdomen, the thigh, and the neck. I struck him in the calf, the face, and a hard strike to the forearm. I had been aiming for his face with that last blow, but he blocked me, his arm taking the brunt of the blow. I delivered several palm-heel strikes to his chin, nose, and jaw. My father landed a painful front-elbow strike to my jaw, making my head swing back and my neck crack from the thrust of the blow. We continued to move slowly around, smacking, kicking, grunting, thrusting and darting back. I wouldn’t say we were equally matched, but I managed to land my share of blows. Unless one of us got a hold of the other, this fight could go on for some time. Stamina
was important. The fighter with the most endurance could deliver the final, killing blow.
As long as I kept out of my father’s reach, he couldn’t strangle me or snap my neck or deliver a killing blow. So I had to keep my distance. Strike and move back quickly. Try to deliver one of the killing methods Jacob had taught me. And pray my endurance outlasted my father’s.
At first, the spectators were quiet, all vying for a better view of the fight. Then, as the fight dragged on and neither my father nor I went down, the crowd grew restless, shouting encouragement to one or the other of us, some screaming obscenities to “get it on” and others cheering loudly, “Boss, boss, boss!” or “Princess, princess, princess!”
It was nice to know I had at least a few fans out there.
I didn’t know where Logan was. I was too busy trying to stay out of my father’s reach to try to find Logan. But I knew he was here somewhere. He wouldn’t have just left me. Was he waiting, biding his time?
I don’t know how much time passed, but sweat began to drip from my brow. My limbs grew shaky with exhaustion. My mind grew weary, my body less reactive the longer this went on. I was nearing the end of my endurance and wasn’t sure how much longer I could withstand. My father, on the other hand, didn’t even look winded at all. He had far more endurance than I did.
Come on, Nishi. You can do this.
Then my father delivered another roundhouse kick that I thought he was aiming toward my head. Instead, he kicked at my legs, tripping me.
I let out a gasp of dismay and tumbled to the mat. I rolled and lunged to my feet, narrowly escaping my father’s hold.
My father let out a soft grunt of annoyance, obviously pissed that I’d gotten away. Was he getting as winded as I was, but was somehow managing to hide his weariness?
We slowly danced around each other again.
Then he came at me hard and fast. Quick thrusts, punches, strikes, kicks. I managed to dodge one, but the others all struck home.
Smack! Thwack! Crack!
My head jolted backward from a hard palm-heel strike to my chin. The breath whooshed from my lungs after a brutal front elbow strike to the abdomen. My brain rattled from a painful forearm slam into my ear. I gasped under the assault, stumbling backward. My father lunged himself on top of me, his hands going for my throat.
He was aiming for a chokehold. He was going to strangle me.
I squirmed sideways, trying to slide free of his hold.
Then my father’s arm pressed against my throat as he held me down. His eyes were wild, black with hate and revenge. Did he really hate me that much?
He blames you for Mama leaving him. Of course he hates you.
He pressed harder on my throat, leaning his weight against my neck as he cut off my air. “Goodbye, Nishi.” He leaned his face over mine so that I was staring up into his cold, hate-filled eyes. “You fought well, but not good enough. Now you must die.”
I gasped and choked, no air reaching my lungs. My fingers grasped at his arm, his face, anything...
I inhaled, trying to find air.
There was none.
My father’s face turned into an ugly monster before me, snakes wreathing out of his eye sockets, a forked tongue flickering out of his mouth. I was losing it, my mind going along with my oxygen.
Use one of the killing methods Jacob taught you, Nishi. Do it now! Now!
At such close range, there were only a few methods I could use.
I gasped once more in a desperate attempt to breathe, but no air reached my lungs. My eyelids drooped.
Kill him, Nishi. Do something!
I forced my eyes open and stared up into his hate-filled eyes.
Sounds of a battle broke out somewhere behind me. Had Logan and the other dregs decided to step in, realizing I was about to die?
My father jerked his gaze away from me, a snarl working free from his lungs. “You brought the dregs here? You stupid little fool.”
Kill him, Nishi! Do it now!
I pulled my arms back, cupping my hands, and slammed my palms against his ears as hard as I could.
Thwack!
My father grunted, jerking back and releasing me.
I sucked in air, gasp after gasp after gasp, as he backed away, slowly shaking his head from side to side. But he wasn’t dead yet. He wasn’t going down.
My father gave a final hard shake of his head, then charged at me again. His eyes were wild, his equilibrium obviously off as he stumbled toward me, weaving from side to side.
Get up, Nishi!
With a burst of energy, I bolted to my feet and struck out at him, taking advantage of his weakened state. Smack! Crack!
I kicked him in the abdomen, struck him in the calf.
Then I spun around, aiming for his Adam’s apple, remembering that a blow there could cause an opponent to asphyxiate.
Crunch!
He gasped, gurgled, tripping back again. He wheezed, his eyes going wide, but he still didn’t go down.
Go down, go down!
Then more fighting broke out across the room. I spied Tracker and Jacob in full-blown attack with the Dragons. They were fast, their moves smooth and fluent. Jacob, in particular, was impressive to watch. He twirled around like a whirlwind, dropping men like flies, almost too fast to see.
More fighting erupted on the opposite end of the building. I swung my gaze in that direction, spying Nate and Tony as they battled more Dragons. Tony would literally disappear for moments at a time, then reappear somewhere else, taking another man out. Wow. The dregs were really good. They were giving the Dragons a run for their money.
Still more fighting sounds came from behind me. I turned, seeing Ryan and Luke fighting even more Dragons. Even with his prosthetic arm, Ryan was an impressive fighter. Luke moved like a machine, his expression cold and lifeless as he took Dragons down, one by one.
I spun back around as my father stumbled toward me, clutching at his throat. His eyes were filled with so much hatred that I took an involuntary step backward.
Why wouldn’t he just die? Why?
He drew in a raspy breath. “You will die for this, daughter. You will die.”
No. He would die, not me.
He flew at me, launching a few kicks, thrusts and punches. His movements were a little clumsy from his equilibrium still being off, but his elbow still managed to connect with my stomach, bowling me over. Another hard blow struck my cheek. I gasped, pain arcing through me.
Kill him, Nishi. Do it now!
I rose and swung out at him, thrusting the palm of my hand up into his nose.
Crunch!
He stumbled backward. One step. Two.
Then he dropped, collapsing into a heap on the mat.
I stared at him, waiting for him to just die already.
My father lifted his head, blood spurting from his nose, and sent me a fierce glare. Then he stumbled to his feet and advanced on me once again.
No! Why won’t you just die?
There was a sudden blur of movement behind my father, and then Logan was there. Logan. Noah followed right behind him, ready to assist, his gaze locking on my father. Logan yanked my father back, spinning him around and landing several hard strikes to his head, abdomen, and knees. My father stumbled under the onslaught, losing his balance, and toppled backward. Logan’s normally gentle eyes were hard, a fierce, determined concentration on his face. He was out for blood. Right now, he was a killer, not my gentle lover. The change in him was shocking. I almost didn’t recognize him. Under the dark paint, he looked like a zombie creature from a movie, the whites of his eyes standing out against the dark background of paint on his skin. But it didn’t frighten me. Logan was here because he loved me.
I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t interfere. I was still reeling from all the painful blows my father had landed on me. My lungs ached from lack of oxygen. My limbs quaked from overuse. My entire body hurt from so many hard blows. Unable to stand upright any longer, I collapsed onto the mat with a sob. A
n overwhelming rush of emotion choked me, tears bursting free from my eyes and spilling down my cheeks.
This wasn’t me. Fighting. Killing. Death blows. I was just a girly girl underneath. I liked styling my hair, wearing makeup, painting my nails, dressing up on occasion…
Another sob burst out of me. I didn’t like to fight. I didn’t want to kill. I had never wanted to be a Black Dragon. Ever.
The fighting continued on outside of the mat, then gunshots erupted with loud bangs that echoed around the room.
I closed my eyes and curled into a ball, trying to block everything out. My brain was shutting down, my body at its limit. I wanted to hide. I wanted everything to go away.
I want Logan.
Logan.
As if my thoughts had conjured him there, Logan appeared beside me, gently drawing me into his arms.
“It’s okay, little one,” he murmured gently. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be all right.”
I snuggled into his heat, his strength. “My f-father?”
“You’ll never have to worry about him again,” Logan assured me. “The blows you inflicted on him ended up killing him. He never got up after I knocked him down. He’s gone now. You did awesome.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, another sob bursting free. “He never loved me.”
Logan’s arms tightened around me. “My father never loved me, either,” he whispered in my ear.
I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. I remembered reading his file and the mention of Logan’s many half-siblings and all the horrible things that had been done to them. Both our fathers had been monsters. The dregs had killed their father a few months ago. And now, finally, my father was dead, too.
“Let’s get out of here.” Logan rose, cradling me against him, and carried me from the mat.
I relaxed against him, burrowing deeper into his warmth, as he carried me away.
We had defeated my father.
I was finally free.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Logan
Nishi had killed her father. She was finally free of him.
She clung to me as I carried her outside, away from the violence. The other dregs still fought inside the building. I spoke into my mic, telling them I had Nishi out, so they could leave whenever they wanted. Then I headed across the campus grounds, cradling her small body close, eager to get her away from here. She was my first priority. I would get her safe first. Then, if the other dregs needed help, I would return to help them.
The Trainer (military romantic suspense) (The Dregs Book 5) Page 25
