Garrett
Chapter 8
The clashing of metal on metal rattled my bones. The vibrations rippled up my arm, making my teeth clench. Every strike tested my body’s endurance. Pierce met me at every turn, blocking and twisting, to try and get a clear thrust straight into my body.
I stayed focused, biding my time, and waited for him to make a mistake. Pierce swung at my head, and I barely dodged it. I didn’t want Ava to see this; to witness a man die, because one of us would.
Pierce’s sword skimmed across my skin, swiveling off my sword to hit my bicep. Blood seeped profusely from my right arm and the son of a bitch grinned, hollering at Hanson for another sword.
Fucking cheater.
“We are gonna finish this quickly, eh?” Piece taunted. A sword flew in his direction, and he swung both around in the air. “Any last words?”
I stood silent, keeping my focus off the pain. Pierce whirled both swords at me, aiming for my right arm again. Switching hands, I paid special attention to his left hand, hoping to spring the sword free. Pierce noticed my gaze and charged.
Dodging him, I watched Pierce stumble forward when I tripped him. A mouthful of curses cracked through the air and I lunged, slicing his back and ripping through the fabric of his shirt. Pierce howled in pain and flung one of his swords at me, his back still toward me. I easily evaded it and stepped closer to my victim.
As I raised my sword, Pierce quickly turned, blocking my blow. Being a larger man, he shoved me back, knocking off my footing. Taking full advantage, Pierce elbowed my chest and brought his arm up to crack me in the jaw. Pushing off me, he kicked me in the stomach, driving me to the ground.
“You sure you don’t want those last words, son?” he goaded.
“Fuck off,” I croaked. Pierce shrugged and pivoted his sword down. I rolled onto my injured arm as another blow came from Pierce. I kicked at whatever body part I could land and struck his knee.
“Damn it!” he bellowed, his face red from exertion. Wincing, I pushed myself up with my bad arm, blood running into the grass and pain exploding in my head. The air fled my lungs as Pierce's foot slammed into my chest. He raised his sword again and froze. Another blade exposed itself through his chest and quickly disappeared. Pierce’s eyes widened as he coughed up blood onto my face. Falling to his knees, his hands clutched his chest. He gasped for air and collapsed to the ground.
A bruised and bloody George stood behind him.
∞∞∞
The night was alive with the whispers of crickets and the eerie call of an owl. I watched Ava sitting near our small fire, aglow in the orange light. She was wrapped in a blanket for extra warmth, the day’s emotions painted on her face.
She’d made George lie down for the night. He looked like shit; black eye, bruises everywhere, and a nice slice on his side. Once George killed Pierce, Ava had ordered my men around like they were hers. She made them fetch water, had another make a fire, and the rest take their prisoners away, tied “extremely tightly,” she had said. That had made me smile. None of them complained; they did as she asked.
Afterward, Ava asked one of the men to bring something for George to eat and a decanter of brandy. Kneeling on the hard ground in front of me, Ava began to tend to me. Her soft fingers had ripped at my shirt sleeve, so she could evaluate my bicep. I didn’t know if she could tend wounds, but I didn’t care. I just watched as she took the brandy and tore a piece off her dress to tie around my arm. She asked me questions, but I was focused on her, not her words. The way her auburn hair cascaded off her shoulders, her eyes narrowing and concentrating at dabbing her brandy-soaked dress on my wound.
Now, four of the Elite Eight were huddled around the fire with her, passing worried looks amongst each other. I noticed that she hadn’t eaten much at supper, but I wasn’t going to push it. I sat next to her on the stump of a fallen tree while she glanced at me. Looking back at the men, Ava nodded, and they departed from the fire.
“Are you the leader of my men now?” I asked with a raised brow.
Ava played with her fingers. “I wanted to speak with you.”
“Oh?” I replied, picking at a small branch. “Is it that bad?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
“How are you feeling?”
Her lips thinned in a straight line. “No need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“My men seem to think otherwise,” I retorted softly as I glanced at her. The firelight shone softly on her face, showing off her small chin and high cheekbones.
“You mean, your little spies?” she retorted, the corner of her mouth coming up.
I raised an eyebrow. “Who said that?”
“Those men.” She nodded in the direction they had gone. “You’ve ordered them to look after my father and I for the last three years. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I can never repay—”
“George told you,” I accused, in a harsher tone than intended.
She nodded again, not affected. “Yes.”
I looked at her. “Does he tell you everything?”
She let out a weak laugh. “Obviously not. I didn’t know he had so many attempts on his life until recently. I’m sure there is more I don’t know.”
She looked at me then, the fire reflecting in her eyes. “I am forever in your debt. I don’t know if I should be honored for eight men, or insulted that you thought I was so much to handle.”
“I’m starting to think I didn’t need any,” I put in. “I don’t know of any woman who would headbutt someone.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t want my good deed of bringing you back to good health to go to waste.”
“I didn’t ask you to stay that long,” she countered. True, she hadn’t; I’d wanted to. I had no reason to stay that long, I could have had one of my men report back to me.
I shrugged. “My father wasn’t going to do it. So, I decided to use mine.”
“So you trained eight men to protect me.”
I looked at her, wide-eyed. “How much did my big-mouthed brother tell you?”
Ava smirked and glanced at me. “Enough.” She stood up and brushed her dress off. “Good night, Garr. Sweet reveries.”
She walked away in the darkness, her hips swaying with the sweetness of her voice echoing in my head.