One of the Last | Book 3 | ✔

24. | A Dance with the Devil

I move to the table of sweets, wanting to get a better look at the stage. Men stand everywhere, the occasional woman standing beside him. But most have left.

Xander, Killian, and Peyton stand on the other side of the table. I snatch a glass of champagne, wanting something to do. I drink from it, despite my dislike for it.

"Greetings, ladies and gents!" The host, a man in his mid-forties with dark hair and a beard, exclaims. "As most of you know, we normally do a bidding. But tonight, we've decided something different."

My heart pounds in my chest. I hate it. I want it to stop. I need it to stop.

I swallow the rest of my drink in one gulp before I grab another off a tray. I do the same thing. My body starts to feel light and slowly, ever so slowly, my heart rate returns to normal.

"...the game for this ball shall be stick fighting. Each will get a stick, and the last one standing wins," He moves his hand to the side, the spotlight following. "the girl." He says into the microphone, gesturing to Lilly who has ropes around her wrists and duct tape on her mouth. I stand up straight, my glass almost falling. Her cheeks are stained with tears, mascara staining the trail.

My fist clenches around the champagne glass in my hands.

I notice Peyton, Xander, and Killian all glance at each other from the corner of my eye. They start whispering to one another, but it's too low to make out.

"Who would like to go first?" The host asks the crowd with a smirk. A man raises his hand and the host gestures to the circle created by the crowd. Nobody else speaks. "I would like to add that if no one is willing to participate, the first participant gets this gorgeous young lady." Their whispers get more frantic.

My breathing picks up as my control starts to slip. I finish the rest of my champagne and slam the glass on the ground, catching everyone else's attention. "I'll do it." I declare, wiping my mouth.

The boys are quick to my side. "Grace, what are you doing?" Xander hisses at me, but I ignore him.

"A woman wants to fight me? For her?" The man in the middle asks.

I step toward the circle. "Why not?" I shrug. "Unless you're afraid you'll get your arse handed to you by a woman." I taunt.

He squints his eyes at me. "Fine. Let's do this." He speaks after a long second.

"Great." I smirk. I hold my hand out and someone throws a stick toward me. I catch it and slam it on the ground, my dress sparking fire. It transforms into a white tank top and black leggings with a pair of black high-heeled boots. My silver hair is also up and out of the way in a ponytail. "Ready for a dance with the devil?" An evil grin slips onto my lips.