39

Connor stood defiant before General Pascal. “You promised to let Amber go.”

The general tossed his empty bottle into the pit and smirked at him. “Only if you won.”

Gloating at Connor’s indignant and crestfallen expression, Blaze kept holding the machete to Amber’s throat.

“But I defeated your champion!” Connor protested, pointing to the groaning Hornet being borne away by his fellow soldiers.

“No, you lost,” declared the general. He stabbed a finger in Connor’s chest. “Showing mercy makes you weak. Only the death of your enemy makes you a true victor. But you will learn that—in time.”

“What do you mean?”

General Pascal’s eyes twinkled. “You’re my White Warrior now.”

Connor stared at him in disbelief. “I’ll never fight for you.”

The general laughed. “But you just did!”

“No, I fought for Amber’s freedom.”

General Pascal laughed. “How romantic. For that gesture, I’ll let her live. But only for as long as you remain my champion.”

He turned his attention to Amber. Stroking a lock of her fine hair between his fingers, he mused, “Maybe I could take this flame-haired beauty for my wife?”

Connor felt his blood start to boil.

“Oh, don’t worry, my White Warrior. I’ll take good care of her.”

The general looked to Blaze. “Tie them both up. We don’t want them running away. And in the morning hunt down her baby brother. I want that little rat back in its trap.”

Blaze sheathed his machete with a growl of disappointment and ordered No Mercy over. “Help me secure these two,” he muttered.

With a gun to his back, Connor realized that any further resistance was futile. As the two of them were roughly manhandled over to a stand of trees, Connor caught a faint whiff of expensive aftershave. The scent was out of place among these unwashed rebels, and he looked sharply around. Just beyond the light of the kerosene lamps, a man stood in the shadows. It was too dark to make him out, but General Pascal had walked over to talk with the mysterious stranger.

As Blaze and No Mercy bound them, Connor strained to hear their conversation.

“. . . keeping these children captive could draw unwanted international attention,” the man was saying.

“Why? They’ll be presumed dead in the ambush,” replied the general. “Besides, the boy has great potential.”

“I don’t care what you do with them,” said the man. “Just make sure they never leave this valley alive.”