Ryker looked at Sterling. Sterling looked back. The unspoken conversation was short: you go. No, you go. I’m not going. I’m not going either. Someone should go. Not me.
Kael threw a feint. Maddox didn’t bite. Maddox threw the same feint. Kael didn’t bite. They reset. Tried again. Same feint. Same non-reaction. Somewhere their father’s ghost was either laughing or taking credit.
"You hit like our father."
"You fight like you take a piss sitting down."
"Stop aiming for my face."
"Stop having a face worth aiming at."
"I hope that hurt."
"It didn’t."
"You’re limping."
"Stylistic choice."
In unison, they grabbed each other, falling to the floor, and rolled.
"I’m going to kill you."
"You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes. I’m still here."
"I’m building to it."
"Build faster."
"Stay the fuck down."
"Make me."
"I’ve made you. Twice."
"And yet I keep getting up. Must be frustrating."
"You have no idea."
"Are they always like this?" a visiting lady whispered.
"Last time involved a table, four chairs, and a chandelier," an elder answered from across the hall. "The chandelier lost."
From the floor, both heads snapped to the elder simultaneously. "That was fifteen years ago," they said together.
Their heads snapped back to each other, wearing matching looks of hatred. They separated, stood, and resumed circling like the interruption had been a commercial break.
"Private room. Both of you." Ryker’s voice carried across the gallery from somewhere behind Maddox.
Somewhere in front of him, Kael still had teeth. One of those problems was getting solved first.
Kael swung first. Maddox caught it. Maddox swung second. Kael didn’t catch it. The scoreboard updated.
"I just pardoned you. This is how you repay me?"
"You tackled my mate. We’re even, little brother."
"She’s MY mate."
"Does she know that? Before you TACKLED her and marked her."
"You punched your king."
"You headbutted your Fourth."
"You deserved it."


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