Enjoy this excerpt for the novel The Benighted.
“Don’t be disheartened, Princess,” Kingston continued, pulling her attention back to him. “You’re just another tool when it comes to the games of men.”
Her hand tightened around the metal that wrapped around her knuckles, still hidden from view. “Is that what you think?” she growled.
“It’s what we all know.”
Skylar took one last look at his unmarked face before she backhanded him with her fist, the brass knuckle slicing across the side of his face. He screamed from the shock of the force, and from the pain that trailed along right behind it.
“How does that change feel?” she asked before using that same fist to punch the other side of his face, impacting his teeth through his cheek and smashing passed his nose. Taking a step back, Skylar surveyed Kingston’s bleeding face and the wild fear that sparked in his eyes when he stared back, pain and panic-stricken.
“You cannot stop what has to come to pass!” he shouted, using the sound of his words to regain his confidence. He had begun to fall forward, his equilibrium working against him, until Harlin grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back.
“You’re right,” she falsely agreed, grabbing him by his jaw and bending close to his face. “If they ever let you speak again, let your comrades know that they will get change.” She struck him with the brass knuckle before he could speak, making him wail.
“Let them know,” she continued before striking his face again, “that killing my brother wrote their own deaths!” She rammed the metal hard into his face now, his screams choked out from the impact that was cracking his jaw bone. “I am the change they will forever regret!” Each following word rose higher in anger, and in between each word she struck him. “Because I. Will. NOT. YIELD!”
The guard was semi-conscious and bleeding by the time Skylar stepped back again and realized what she had done. She could almost see herself, fading into the rain that was pouring down around them, her hood long thrown off, steam rising from the burning adrenaline that had made her sweat. The grey-green world washed away down the prison walls, the cold stone surfacing just enough to be recognized. But despite the phenomenon, he was still there watching her. She gasped to say something to the hazy figure that was Harlin, still standing behind the guard, still keeping him upright.
Read more about the author of A.M. Dunnewin’s guest post: The Benighted – A Different Kind of Heroine