Hammer did look bad. His thinning blond hair dripped with sweat. His swollen face was purple with heat and rage. His wild and bloodshot eyes bulged, and his words rang out unmuffled by his helmet.

As he raged, the crowd quieted.

“I’ll kill you,” he shrieked at Adam. “You betrayed me. You know what happened. Nothing you say is true.”

One of the men in the crowd shouted, “Not serious. Must be a trick!”

As Hammer’s voice grew louder and more vicious, a slick of white foam crusted the edges of his lips. “You’re a liar. You told reporters I stood by while people died. You can’t be trusted. You told the press I refused to give that woman my antibiotics. I’m a hero! No one can trust you. You worthless piece of shit, you fucking coward, fight me!”

Over the murmurs and protests and shouts of the crowd, Adam heard a slight, feminine voice call his name. “Adam!” Elle. At last, Elle had arrived. “Adam, your sword.”

For the first time, Adam relaxed. She was safe. Now he knew this would come out well. And with the sword, he knew he had a chance of survival. He backed away from the raging madman who stomped his feet like a toddler in the throes of a tantrum.

“Adam, this way.” It was a siren’s voice, a siren’s call.

The source of Elle’s voice guided him; he didn’t dare take his gaze from Hammer. Hammer, who vibrated like a volcano about to blow.

As Adam neared the edge of the arena, Elle spoke right by his side, her voice low and comforting. “Take your sword.”

Adam turned to see Elle there, inside the arena, holding the scabbard with the sword’s hilt pointed toward him. Urgently he said, “You shouldn’t be here.” He pulled the blade free.

Something about Elle caught his attention, a remnant of wide-eyed terror and shock—and triumph.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

A roar of warning broke from the crowd.

Adam took heed. “Run!” he said to Elle and turned to face the charging bull that was Hammer. He braced himself. He lifted the sword, deliberately baring his midriff.

Hammer zeroed in on Adam’s vulnerability and slashed toward his belly.

Adam leaped aside and brought his sword down onto Hammer’s stained steel blade.

Hammer’s elbow bent at an awkward angle. His sword leaped out of his gloved hands. He gave a howl of rage or pain, an animal sound that stood out from the crowd’s shouts, and fell sideways. He writhed on the ground in what looked like a seizure.

Adam stepped away, but he didn’t take his gaze off Hammer.

In that evil man’s face, he saw a flash of cunning.