Power(106)

“Did you know a slow-bled pig produces the most succulent meat?” His voice gave him away as full-on crazycakes, just in case the words themselves hadn’t gotten it across.

“That’s good to know,” I said. “But there’s not going to be anything slow about how I bleed you, pig.” I kicked him in the chest, once, our grips with each other anchoring him to me. He took it with a grunt of fury, and I kicked him again. His sternum and ribs broke and he screamed in pain and rage. “You’ve been talking all along like I’m some kind of object that’s yours for the taking.” I kicked him again, faster than he could heal, and he really did squeal like a pig. “Like I’m a puppet that you can control. Like I’m something that’s yours.” I reeled him in close as he continued to make that pitiful noise. “This should go without saying, but you’re crazy as hell, so let me make this clear—I’m a person.” I punched him in the jaw. “I make my own decisions.” I smashed him in the side of the head. “I do what I want.” I twisted his arm behind his back and broke it as I faced him away from me, pushing hard to dislodge it through his skin. “And I am not beholden to you or anyone else.”

With that, I kicked him in the back and heard it break. He plummeted toward the earth, screaming as he fell. I sighed and watched him drop, breathing heavily as he went.

Of course he stopped himself a few hundred feet down and healed, and I wondered exactly how much damage I was going to have to do to him to kill him.

He came back at me again, because apparently that wasn’t enough. I just watched him get closer.

He will keep coming, Wolfe said.

He will not stop, Bjorn said.

He is unmerciful, Gavrikov said.

He is unstoppable, Bastian said.

“So am I,” I said.

“You can’t beat me,” Sovereign crowed as he came back up. He looked like hell, true, but he was alive. “You’ve tried. You’ve tried again. It ain’t happening.” He sounded like he was off the edge a little. Maybe he’d gotten a grip on his sanity, if such a thing existed.

“You’re an idiot,” I said.

He laughed, further driving home that certainty that he was cuckoo crazypants. “You can’t beat me, I told you. I am unbeatable.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve beaten you quite a bit.”

“Aren’t you tired of it?” He shook his head. “Tired of fighting? We’re made for each other.”

“You abso–frigging–moronic knucklehead,” I said. “I’m made for my own damned self, not for you.”

“Just give in,” he said, opening his arms. He was still laughing, crazily, but laughing. “You can’t win.”

“Gavrikov just called you unmerciful,” I said.

“He knows me,” Sovereign said with a smile, voice as smooth as poured honey. “You can’t. You won’t.”

I just rolled my eyes. “All my life I’ve been told I can’t. Had walls put up. Doors closed. Funny thing about that is that after you’ve gone through a few head on, you start ignoring them.”

“You can’t ignore me,” he said.

“I can’t stop you either, sadly,” I said, and shook my head.

“Glad you finally realized it.” He was smirking now, basking in his impending victory, probably.

Then I pulled the rug out from under him. “You don’t understand. See … a hero would just stop you. I’m going to have to kill you.”

He rolled his eyes right back. “You can’t do that, either.”

“I told you I would, no matter what,” I said. “That willingness is the gift my mother gave me. You haven’t seen the ‘no matter what’ part yet. But you’re about to.”

Now he had that faint crackle of amusement. “This should be good. Bluster is always worth a laugh. Though I’d thought you were finally caving to reason.”

“You left reason behind a long time ago,” I said.

“You. Are. Outmatched,” he said. “Just give up and surrender to reality. It’s going to happen. You can’t beat me. You can’t kill me. You can’t—”

“There go those words again,” I said, and I knew my expression was darkening. It was a little colder up here in the air. I felt a revulsion fill my stomach at the realization of what I was going to have to do. “All my choices, light and dark, have led me to this moment.”

He stared back at me. “Now who’s monologuing?”

“I’m sick of you,” I said, and the righteous anger was really getting rolling now. “Sick of your smug face, sick of your psychological games, sick of your bullshit inevitability gimmick, trying to beat me down and make me think I’m defeated without ever finishing the job.” I could feel the air humming around me as it seemed to crackle with electricity. I didn’t care. “This is a fight, and you haven’t won yet. This is a fight, and I’m not your girl. This is a fight, and you are my damned enemy, and I will KILL. YOU.”