A Freedom to Fight For
K.D. VanBrunt
YA Urban Fantasy, Paranormal,
Romance, Suspense
Evernight Teen
Publishing, 95k, Editor’s
Pick
Conclusion of best-selling The
Cracked Chronicles Trilogy
All Jace has ever wanted was to
escape the control of Cracked and run. Now, Gray is on the escape-from list
too. She can’t bring herself to ever face him again, not after his
betrayal. Angry, disillusioned, and broken, Jace accepts a permanent assignment
to the President’s security detail, intending to never see Gray or Cracked ever
again.
But
something changes inside her. With the United States facing an
unprecedented threat that only she and Gray may be able to stop, Jace confronts
a choice. She can cut and run, or stand and fight alongside the boy she
swore she would never let inside her heart again.
Buy Links: Evernight
Teen ARe Amazon
14+ due to language,
violence, and adult situations
Excerpt:
JACE
Lauren and I
head down Pennsylvania Avenue making for a nearby gym with a boxing ring,
trailed by a considerable crowd of onlookers, most of whom are Secret Service
agents. Once inside and changed, I make my way into the ring, dressed in blue
boxing shorts and a white sports bra. Roz helps me slip on the red, Everlast
boxing gloves. These are my competition gloves I had sent over from Cracked.
James has agreed to let Lauren and I fight without headgear. Otis helps Lauren
with her gloves.
Roz
appointed himself my cornerman and cutman, as if I need either, and he insists
I call him Mick. Whatever. I allow myself a quick glance around the gym. A nice
crowd has assembled. I recognize many of the agents who are betting against me.
Otis said he’d been approached by other agents about getting a piece of the
action. I told him I was willing to put up to $15,000 on the line. Otis hit
that ceiling in an hour. Apart from the agents, I see a number of staff I
haven’t met. In the few days we’ve been here, I’m amazed how many people have
heard about the two bad girls who are constantly at each other’s throats. James
holds the ropes apart to allow me to squeeze through into the ring. He’s going
to ref the fight, which will go on for three two-minute rounds.
Lauren and I
square off in the center of the ring, and James gives the signal for the first
round to begin. She starts off fast, trying to bombard me with combinations,
sending me on the defensive for most of the round. I dance back from her,
blocking her punches and dodging away. She doesn’t manage to land much of
anything on me, but I can’t land anything solid either. I think I see what her
strategy is, but then I realize she fooled me, and Lauren slams her left glove
into my mid-section, almost knocking the wind out of me. This is not Lauren.
This is Clubber Lane. Her fist feels like a granite boulder. The round ends. I
know she won round one with that punch. But I also hear a silent ka-ching, as I
mentally pocket $500 from Agent Saunders.
Roz hands me
a bottle of water, which I greedily drink from, while trying to control my
heavy, labored breathing. When round two starts, Lauren tries to go on the
offensive again. She immediately attempts the same combination that worked
before, when she just about emulsified my insides with her punch to my gut. But
I’ve already seen this move and when she tries to land the body punch again, I
lash out with a right uppercut that tags her on the chin, sending her reeling backwards
into the ropes. I hear gasps from the crowd. Before she can recover, I begin to
rain blows on her, causing her to cover up and then clutch at me. She’s rescued
from me by the bell clang signaling the end of the round. I watch her retreat
to her corner, a glazed look on her face. Score this round to me. The match
will come down to round three.
The final
round starts out slow, with both of us dancing away from each other’s blows,
our punches tentative. I don’t know what Lauren thinks she’s doing, but I want
to land the knockout blow, so I’m waiting for Lauren to make the one big
mistake that will enable my quicker hands to take her down. The problem is she
has the best boxing form of anyone I’ve ever faced and there’s no room for
error; one mistake and she’ll clean my clock—and vice versa. But the mistake
never comes, so, frustrated, I stop dancing and move in on her. Lauren steps
toward me and we both start swinging as fast and as hard we can. I manage to
land a vicious right hook to her jaw followed by a wicked left jab to her
forehead. This staggers her, but she steps closer to me and we stand
toe-to-toe, hurling punches at each other non-stop. I drop any pretense of
style and finesse. Lauren manages to get in a stinging blow to my mouth and I
can taste my blood. Then she lands another crushing punch to my stomach,
causing me to back up until I’m up against the ropes, but I’m not covering up.
Lauren gets in another punch to the side of my head, but I tag her with a good
right cross to the nose that staggers her and then I follow with a left to her
jaw. Her knees are wobbly and I think that if I can land just one more shot,
she’ll go down, but the round ends before I can deliver that one last blow. I
let my gloves drop. I’m exhausted. I know my lip has been split open, and I
feel my blood freely flowing down my chin. Lauren has her own river of blood to
contend with, as her nose is oozing a steady stream of snot and gore.
About the author:
K.D. Van
Brunt
During the
eight hours of the day when I’m not writing, reading or sleeping, I’m a lawyer
in Washington, DC. I grew up in Southern California, moved to Seattle
before coming east to Boston to go to school. Now, I live in the great
state of Maryland with my wife, my dog—a standard poodle named Buffy
(and who do you think named her?), and my hot Camaro. One of the few
things I like better than pizza is driving fast. So, if you happen be in
the DC area and a black Camaro with a red stripe and a rear spoiler roars by
and blows your doors off…thaaat could be me.
Website: http://www.kdvanbrunt.com
@kdvanbrunt
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