Vagtpostens hemmeligheder

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

1      
Jeg lukkede skabslågen, og lyden gav genlyd på det tomme rums betonvægge. Jeg stikker ørepropperne i ørerne, trykker på play på min telefon, og min playliste fortsætter, hvor den slap i slutningen af gårsdagens træning. Flyleafs "All Around Me" triller ind i mine ører. Jeg skruer op for lyden og lader musikken lokke mit indre bæst frem, mens jeg mentalt planlægger, hvordan jeg vil dominere denne kamp. 
Talon gør altid grin med denne del af min rutine før kampen. Han forstår ikke mit behov for at visualisere, at jeg skal slå lortet ud af nogen, især når jeg ikke ved, hvem min modstander er endnu. Desværre er det bare en af de mange ting, jeg ikke kan forklare ham. 
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Lugten af det rengøringsmiddel, som de bruger til at bekæmpe restlugten af svedige kroppe, ligger tungt, men behageligt i luften. Jeg indånder den rene citronduft, mens jeg metodisk strækker mig og forbereder min krop på kampen. Jeg ved ikke, hvad det siger om mig, men jeg synes, at den skarpe duft i dette rum er betryggende. Min hjerne forbinder den med hårdt arbejde og succes. Jeg sværger, at alle de fitnesscentre, jeg nogensinde har trænet i, og alle de omklædningsrum, jeg nogensinde har brugt, har den samme citrusagtige duft. 
Den vokse del af "I'm so Sick" begynder at strømme ind i mine ører, da metaldøren klirrer op, og Talon kommer ind. Han ser ud som om han burde gå ind i et bestyrelseslokale i stedet for i dette konkrete, citronduftende omklædningsrum. Hans jakkesæt er skræddersyet og ubesmittet, hvilket står i modsætning til den gamle, barske vikingestemning, som resten af ham udstråler. 
Han havde langt hår, første gang jeg mødte ham. De blonde lokker dansede i vinden, og havblå øjne stirrede op på mig, mens jeg stod på toppen af hans SUV med en sten i hånden. Jeg var femten år og hjemløs og flygtede fra et par røvhuller, der blev sure over, at jeg turde kæmpe imod, da deres gruppe forsøgte at stjæle min rygsæk. 
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"Er du klar?" Han spørger, og jeg nikker. 
"Godt. Tag dig god tid. Giv et godt show. Så udslettelse ham for fanden," træner han mig, instruktionerne er unødvendige. 
Jeg grynter anerkendende over hans ondskabsfuldhed, selvom jeg ikke kan lade være med at rulle med øjnene også. Dette er ikke en koreograferet dans, og det ved han godt. Talon griner og læser mine tanker ud fra mit ansigtsudtryk. Chaufføren, der bragte mig hertil, står stadig i et hjørne af rummet. Hans rygsøjle stivner ved lyden af Talons munterhed, som om hans latter er lig med en dødsdom. Så vidt jeg ved, kunne det være sandt. 
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"Sådan, min lille kriger, lad blodtørsten suge ind i dig, og lad os gøre det," opfordrer Talon. 
Han omfavner mig og giver et legende træk i enden af en af mine hollandske fletninger. Jeg slår ham i siden, men jeg lægger ikke nogen kraft bag, og han griner. Jeg ved ikke, hvordan det er at have forældre, der bekymrer sig en skid om en. Jeg har aldrig mødt min far, og Beth - min ægdonor - smed mig væk som det affald, hun altid har sagt, at jeg var. 
Talon er det tætteste, jeg nogensinde kommer på at opleve, hvordan en forælder bør opføre sig. Jeg aner ikke, hvorfor han hentede mig fra taget af sin bil og fra Vegas' gader, men jeg er taknemmelig hver dag for alt det, han har gjort for mig. 
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Publikumets brøl når os gennem de tykke vægge i rummet, og det er tydeligt at høre på støjen, at nogen i den igangværende kamp lige har fået et alvorligt slag. Betonen dæmper råbene fra tilskuerne, men det er let nok at få en fornemmelse af, hvad der foregår. Talon bliver nervøs, efterhånden som min kamp nærmer sig. 
Vi sidder i hyggelig tavshed, indtil nogen banker to gange på metaldøren for at indikere, at det er tid. Talon vender sig mod mig, og hans uudgrundelige blå øjne tager målene på mig. Jeg fanger et glimt af sorg i hans blik, da han synes at finde det, han leder efter, og vender sig bort. Med et resolut nik fører han mig ud af omklædningsrummet. 
Indgangene til en kamp kan variere alt efter stedet og kampens omfang. I dag er der ikke meget fanfare ud over noget lys og lydanlæg. Den buldrende resonans fra en announcer buldrer mit navn, Vinna Aylin, ud, og jeg går ind i det skyggedækkede rum ved min introduktion. 
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Døren til buret åbnes, og jeg vender mig mod Talon. Jeg slår mine arme om hans talje og sniger mig ind i et sidste kram, inden jeg går ind. Jeg er den første, der ankommer, og jeg venter på, at min modstanders indgang i arenaen bliver annonceret. Råbene om mit navn bombarderer mig, men jeg ignorerer dem, mens mit blik svinger hen over mængden og vurderer detaljerne i rummet. 
Mine øjne lander på en mand, der betragter mig med en så stille intensitet, at det udløser en alarm i min hjerne. Jeg er ikke sikker på, hvorfor denne mands skarpe granskning skiller sig ud blandt de andre blodtørstige fans, der kigger og venter, men noget ved ham gør mig nervøs. Baseret på hans lysebrune hudfarve og mørke hår vil jeg gætte på, at han er fra Mellemøsten. Hans honningbrune øjne er rettet mod mig, og de skinner med et rovdyrisk glimt. 
Manden smiler, men det er kun læber og ingen tænder. Der er ikke noget glimt af hugtænder eller rødme i øjnene, hvilket ville gøre det let at bekræfte min mistanke. Jeg kalder dem for fanged fuckers, men jeg tvivler på, at det er sådan de kalder sig selv. Mit bedste gæt er, at de er en slags vampyrer, men ingen af dem, jeg har dræbt, har nogensinde forsøgt at æde mig; af en eller anden grund ville de bare tage mig. 
Inst,inhktCivVtm hja*r pjneg^ !lysBt_ _tizl aht_ gfrupperée den^nve mand samUmseanz medC due! aundrSe ftaVngegdv BfWucikeFrs,. *jMeg e(r sQtødtty påó gennRevmB åZremnHeH, oógt jeUg stoDlierg pråK mliJn CmaveDfpoirónem,mwelsieV,S *nVåIr denN fXoUrtæller smiégs, (atG Zd^eanéne gs.o$rthHå)rRede dw&hi'svke'yd-XøjeUdCe, tils!kuer& ,udgxør Pekn trxuFsHsel TmoLdD m$iwg.ó 
Første gang en af dem angreb mig, var jeg fjorten. Det ville have været let at afvise hastigheden og styrken eller de glødende øjne som en slags chokinduceret hallucination, men jeg vidste bedre end at forsøge at overbevise mig selv om, at jeg tog fejl af det, jeg så. At det var umuligt. Hvis det ikke var for de umulige ting, jeg var i stand til, ville den tingest trods alt have ført mig hvorhen eller til hvem som helst, den ville. 
Jeg kæmper mod mit ønske om at vise denne mand, at jeg er rovdyret og ikke byttet, men jeg vil ikke afsløre min hånd. Hvis han er, hvad jeg tror, er det kun et spørgsmål om tid, før den skiderik kommer efter mig. Så vil han lære det. Så vil han dø som alle de andre.

2      
Den dundrende stemme fra speakeren trækker mig væk fra mine tanker og fra øjnene på den mand, som jeg har markeret til døden. Den dybe bas fra speakerens stemme introducerer min modstander, og jeg fokuserer min opmærksomhed på hans indgang. 
En stor gruppe mænd bevæger sig mod buret. Jeg kan ikke undgå det lille smil, der overtager mit ansigt, da følget deler sig i det, der må være et øvet træk. Jeg tog tydeligvis fejl, og dette er alligevel en koreograferet dans. Jeg forsøger at dæmpe min morskab og antage en mere passende badass-adfærd, men nu forestiller jeg mig disse store, kraftige fyre, der bryder ud i en flashmob. 
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Han går ind i buret og kigger på mig og afviser mig som en trussel på omkring to sekunder. Derefter vender han sig mod publikum og slipper et latterligt brøl løs. Åh ja, der er helt sikkert noget af en roid-raseri i gang. 
Dommeren kalder os ind i midten af ringen for at give os vores instruktioner. Det er den typiske tale om ikke at bide, trække i håret eller give skud i skridtet, og jeg ignorerer ham, mens jeg vurderer bæstet af en mand over for mig. Han er kolossal, og et slag fra ham vil medføre alvorlige skader. Hvis han oven i købet er hurtig, så vil han helt sikkert få mig til at arbejde for sejren. 
Min blodtørst syder i mig, og jeg svælger i potentialet for en udfordring. 
JeSg( ófBår .øjenUkontakÉtK imedé DColojsszutsÉ .fxo,rI fDøWr_stBea g*ang.q Han csJl*iókvkWeYrv $sniIgf om læbÉerAneg og bpegynxdYer ^aQtY Cludfgt(kysseAsw,B hsvHor*efter jhans gsrvwinWgfeur sYin ktqu.n$gef mgoWdz mig. Erk dhepnne gflyYrv slerPiøs?n Je.g UruflleZrL nmleódG Xøhjnene cogg kiggBeQr rurnidct_ eIftSejr *Talon$,R så) CjegD pkran kaste& thGa$m^ eLt j"HvoXrt Char ^dnu cfHudnNdeXtH hfamC?"-bliak. 
Talon står normalt foran og i midten, men jeg kan ikke finde ham i mængden. Jeg får dog et glimt af en fyr, der stirrer på mig med så stor spænding, at det grænser til panik. Jeg er vant til at se dette udtryk i folks ansigter. Hvis de er nye til kampene, kan det for alvor skræmme folk at se mig på 1,80 meter i ringen sammen med en stor, skræmmende fyr som ham, jeg skal kæmpe mod. 
Jeg smiler og blinker til fyren i håb om, at han vil slappe lidt af, men det virker ikke. Han ser ud som om han er sekunder fra at forsøge at hive mig ud af ringen. Åh, I med ringe tro. Han er ved at finde ud af, at der ikke er nogen del af mig, der er en ungmø, og intet ved denne kamp gør mig ked af det. 
"Jeg håber, du stadig smiler, når jeg klemmer dig fast og knepper dig lige her foran publikum," griner Colossal Douche til mig. 
Hcan ótagQexr 'fat^ i AsKkurÉi'dttRe)tv på JsXinek tshoTrqts UosgG hqeInlNeHdeér Xmjign oqpmyær.kséomrhNedx pråZ d$enq GsQørqgeligue undMskywlmdninXgk fToMr! enK Rereknt!iHoYn,B ispom^ h!aCnó hamr. CJeWgU veRds,R !at Talon psaTgpde, atÉ jeAgn ÉsNkYullbeI utazgea m!iKg mgÉod tOidx og laOveQ et wg(oId*t shsouwT.D tMYeCnZ deAn !skideriakC skéaVlJ ,lWærDeL no)gGle majnererP.K K
Dommeren afslutter sine instruktioner, og Colossal Douche og jeg rører ved hinanden, inden vi skilles. Adrenalinen, der strømmer gennem mig, gnider sig op mod den navnløse kraft, der bor i mig, og min kraft sidder op som en overivrig hvalp, klar og venter på at blive kaldt på. 
Dommeren slipper sin løftede hånd og signalerer, at vi skal begynde, og jeg går straks i gang. Colossal Douche brøler og angriber mig. Han holder armene ud i en ubrugelig Frankenstein-holdning, mens han tramper tættere på og sigter efter at slå sine arme om mig. Lynhurtig som et lyn løfter jeg min fod op på hans lår og bruger den som løftestang til at klatre op ad hans massive ramme som en jungle gym. 
Hans arme klemmer sig sammen, men det lykkes ham kun at fange et af mine ben. Jeg klatrer højt nok op ad hans torso til at give mig selv et frit skud mod hans ubevogtede hoved og ansigt. Jeg slår ham hårdt flere gange i hurtig rækkefølge, hvert slag lander på det søde punkt i hans tinding. Slagene bedøver ham, og hans greb om mit lår slapper af. 
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Jeg griber fat i hans arm og bruger hans sving mod ham, trækker ham ud af balance, før jeg smækker min albue ind i hans underarm. Colossal Douche vælter fremad efter slaget og forsøger stadig at få hovedet fri. Jeg griber fat i hans skulder og trækker mig op for at give ham et knæ i ribbenene. Han begår en begynderfejl og bøjer sig til siden for at beskytte sine ribben, hvilket giver mig endnu et frit skud mod hans hoved. Dumme svin. 
Jeg slår mit knæ i hans ansigt. En høj knasende lyd lyder rundt om kædelænken, og jeg springer tilbage for at undgå eksplosionen af blod og brusk. Han falder baglæns ned på måtten, bevidstløs, og jeg hopper lidt, da hans massive ramme styrter ned på jorden. Dommeren skynder sig at se til ham og giver tegn til, at lægerne skal tage over. 
En mærkelig rumlen stiger op fra Colossal Douche's følge, men jeg ignorerer den, mens jeg trækker min tandbeskytter frem. Jeg scanner mængden af jublende fans, der bliver på benene, indtil jeg finder den fyr, der så så så bekymret ud før. Han stirrer på mig med store øjne og et forbløffet udtryk i ansigtet. Jeg svarer på hans fejlvurdering med et selvtilfreds smil. 
N'oégdejn mk.avs(tJer Zemt h*ålndkvlyæqde tJild NmVig,r ogQ jeGgO atøkryrferc zmtinre( rhædnFdeBr sfBor sGvDed rog jbUlod. Domm_erIelnY e*rzkhlQærrer Mmiig mforX vv(iDnldNerj, SoKgY je_g forHlaudnebr burZet ai UeRtp fvir^varr rafJ aktiYvIitet zf*ra fmo.lkX, dZeXrM Jfo.rsWøbgNer YaOtA genPo_plSiuvJe imin mLodstPagnAdePr.U J(eigK Wl)eqdier) cePfterQ d*en manidv, dder. bsa*tsteL alle* gmin_eÉ TaSlaqrmukYlokDk*eYr i TgCaYnrg gtiMd.ligMere(, menc Yjegg akraOnI ikXke dsre hzam nGogeUn sjteÉd*eNrv.v 
Sikkerhedsvagterne eskorterer mig væk fra al postyret og tilbage til det omklædningsrum, jeg tog tøj på tidligere. Jeg finder ikke Talon, der venter på at lykønske mig på sin sædvanlige plads ved døren. Jeg kan ikke se ham nogen steder, hvilket sender en smule ubehag gennem mig. Chaufføren, der er blevet til en håndværker, som bragte mig hertil, står i Talons sted, så i stedet følger jeg ham tilbage til omklædningsrummet. 
"Hvor er Talon?" spørger jeg, så snart metaldøren klapper i bag mig. 
"Han blev kaldt væk." 
JneagV ventuer pPå, at afyvrIenó fs_ka^l uZdd*ybe *dtetn,N JmZen éd'et serS &uéd! tQilH,O atI deptI ler Jalt, uh)vxaLd YhjanJ vilQ agaiKvbe miDgJ. *Jegy htKrmækker. uløzspe QskweabtsVhOoPrts apóåm oUverI ndfeI ys)panZdegxK-fdKrerngFeshortnsH, jDeJgM hatrs Apåt,w soWgr j!egQ tjagNeCrT gsttr*ømpmerB uogi s(kéo fpGåp. XJ^egg trFæOkxkerS en skjDoxrte &oxvteHr( FmibnP ésoMrte spsorntysÉ-nbhq oOg tYagleLrN *m(iJnL tBasBke. p
Jeg er klar til at køre på få minutter, men at dømme ud fra chaufførens utålmodige klap med foden og hans irriterede udtryk har jeg på en eller anden måde taget for lang tid. Jeg noterer mig mentalt, at Talon ikke skal stikke mig den nar i hænderne igen. 
Jeg svinger remmene på min taske over skulderen og går lige hen til chaufføren. 
"Efter dig." Røvhul.

3      
Jeg følger min korte ledsager ud af en dør, der går ud til bygningens bagende. Den improviserede parkeringsplads er knap nok oplyst, og en ensom sort SUV står parkeret femten meter fra døren. Da chaufføren viser vej til bilen, fanger et hurtigt glimt af noget mit øje i periferien af mit øje. Jeg stivner og scanner mine omgivelser, opmærksom og klar til et angreb. Jeg sværger, at jeg lige har set noget løbe forbi mig, men jeg kan ikke se noget der nu. 
Jeg forventer, at den uhyggelige, mørkhårede fyr indefra vil dukke op ud af det blå, men alt jeg ser er et stykke pakket jord og nogle små buske. Lige som jeg er ved at vende mig bort, bemærker jeg et svagt glimt i luften omkring tre meter foran mig. 
"PFérøMken^ AyliCn?"n ChauffTøIrTe*n' kaalBdLeqr ppås mmJiDgx. 
Jeg er sikker på, at jeg ligner et sindssygt tilfælde, når jeg står her og stirrer ud i det tomme mørke. Okay, Vinna, tag dig sammen. En underlig lyd, næsten som et grynt, afbryder min indre tugt, og jeg finder mig selv i at bevæge mig mod det underlige skimmer. Efterhånden som jeg kommer tættere på anomalien, buldrer kraften gennem mig som en flodbølge. 
"Hvad fanden?" Jeg mumler. 
Jeg kigger tilbage og ser chaufføren stirre på mig, som om jeg har mistet forstanden, og jeg spekulerer et øjeblik på, om han måske har ret. En anden lyd trækker min opmærksomhed tilbage til det, der virker som et tomt rum, men der er noget ved det, der føles virkelig skide mærkeligt. 
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Udbruddet af aktivitet omkring mig, hvor der for få sekunder siden ikke var noget, er desorienterende. Jeg står fastfrosset på stedet, mens jeg tager imod nærkampen. Jeg er omgivet af mennesker ... der slås. Jeg ser mig omkring, og genkendelsen slår gnister i mig, da det går op for mig, at den ene side af kampen involverer følget af den fyr, jeg lige har kæmpet med. 
Der er syv af de store, kraftige mænd mod fire andre midaldrende mænd, som jeg ikke kan genkende. Fem, indser jeg, da jeg får øje på en fyr, der står ved siden af, adskilt fra de andre. Han står der med lukkede øjne, og hans læber bevæger sig, som om han taler med sig selv. Nå, hvis jeg er skør, ser det ud til, at jeg har selskab. 
En af mændene fra følget springer med alarmerende hastighed og styrer direkte mod den ensomme mand, et metalblinkene glimter i hans hænder. Han kører uhyggeligt hurtigt ned på den mumlende mand, der ikke synes at indse, at faren kommer mod ham som et godstog. 
MXipn iFnd(rjex tkrtaft xeVrF nivériGgPe IefQtNer aRt bQesvsaCre ymViutD kWanldv. wDHe m^ærk'eli(ge bmarkeriTntgOenrb, uderb dfudkkZedeZ wojp uovjerI Jhe.lep cmXiJnG zkzrFop. _påó miSn óse'ksótenidIe fødseclksdag,. begOynkderZ Uat ksrDible ib fXoZr&vieknutnli*nsg oHmR Ndet.é JegJ DkRaÉlfdePrl ipmåu enecrgien* qiZ ydQeó myaBrKkeringqeqr, dbe(r her plMacTeÉreit langUs umicner baulde&rJ, oAga Tk*astUeknxi_ve SbliSverz fasqte i m*ine (hæÉnSdóeLr. 
Jeg venter et par sekunder for at se, om chanteren vil reagere på truslen, men da han ikke engang åbner øjnene, springer jeg i aktion. Da angriberen fører sin kniv frem, kaster jeg min egen kniv efter ham. Han brøler af smerte og falder derefter ned i jorden, blodet flyder frit fra den dolk, der lige er landet rent i hans hals. 
Den mumlende fyrs øjne flyver op, lige som hans angribers krop glider til standsning et par meter fra ham. Mandens blik lander på mig, men i stedet for det udtryk af taknemmelighed, som jeg forventer, bliver hans øjne snævre i irritation. Han begynder at gå hen imod mig, mens hans læbers konstante bevægelse aldrig ophører. 
En mands skrig af smerte fylder natteluften og trækker min opmærksomhed fra sangeren. Jeg fokuserer på en mand, der ser ud til at være næsten to meter høj, med langt rødt hår, der falder ned over skuldrene. Han trækker en kniv op fra sin side, og blodet siver gennem fingrenes sømme, da han trykker på såret. Han fortsætter med at bekæmpe en mand foran ham, uvidende om den trussel, der sniger sig op bag ham. 
"AyGdPign, IpaFs psåX!" fråsberb HkéantaUre_llent ttSil Tsianb vBen.A 
Jeg løber hen mod manden, der sniger sig som en kujon op bag den rødhårede kæmpe. Jeg griner af hans ansigtsudtryk, da jeg dukker op fra ingen steder og ødelægger hans klare skud mod ingefærgigantens ryg. Et væld af slag og en hurtig drejning af nakken får den store, kraftige kujon til at ligge med ansigtet ned i jorden og er ude for tælling. Jeg vender mig om for at se til denne Aydin-fyr og ser, fuldstændig forbløffet, hvordan en ildkugle svæver over hans hænder. 
Hans store stel og de løse rødbrune hårstrå er oplyst af flammernes glød, og den ildkugle, som han på en eller anden måde skaber, svulmer op mellem hans håndflader. Han kaster den, og manden foran ham bryder ud i flammer. De smertefyldte skrig river mig ud af min chokerede passivitet, lige som en snurrende lyd kommer imod mig. Jeg rækker ud og griber knivens skæfte og stopper den, inden den bliver plantet i mit bryst. 
Hold da kæft, det var tæt på! 
Jeg& sCcVa'nnevr kcæMm'pFefrnmeS ,oug lBeHdUer. e(ftcer dpenj Édød.e manéd, RdCeTr lig,eR hvarA kya(sMtety jen ksbkVi(dce kniiUv eJfKtexrR ÉmigW. )Jgelg vbe'n_dear m'iig i tideZ qt,ilf faytW nsHeB enq $d*o(llkg qsydnQkbe Pnded i sykuldkere!nj på f)y*r.eDnG, WdFerU s(tabdiqgh taler $fsor siqgN stelv.A WHNanp udsthød!er aetz overrafsfket gyUlZp! Yogn gurimassetrcefré Ymrod smehrctenp. Han)s m(umlVejnb 'sYtoppZe(rX,B goug p'lRu_dse,lig )ewkLsplTodkerceGrK tlo óaqfO dLej gsUtoreJ kIr*anftfige& kFæmperS StiGl! $gigQagnttUiske fu^c_kinag Grqizfz'lyébqjør)nZe_.' L
Hvad i alverden er det for noget pelset lort?