The Mouse and The Monarch

4

His desperation was evident in the frantic movements of his hands, clawing at her leg his nails digging into her flesh as he tried to get her to break her hold.

Ophelia just turned off the part of her brain that felt pain, using each of his attempts to tighten her grip, a silent declaration of her dominance.

She would not move until he gave up.

Until he showed everyone she had beaten him.

"Tap out," Ophelia whispered, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, devoid of any hint of emotion.

The people around her watched with rapt attention and a sense of respect in their eyes.

Even the quiet sniper in the corner couldn't help but stare at her, she could feel the heat of his gaze roaming over her.

He knew she was a threat, maybe not to him in hand to hand, but a threat nonetheless.

It made her stomach tighten.

O'Conor tightened his grip on her legs, hoping to distract her with the pain.

She just stared down at him with unblinking eyes. She'd learnt to push the pain away years ago.

"C'mon Ginger, tap out before you die," she crooned softly as she gazed down at him.

She heard Callisto laugh again but didn't pay attention as she stared into the man's eyes, watching that bright light flicker and dance like a flame being snuffed.

He was suffocating.

His desperation reached a fever pitch, his hand snapping out to strike her leg in a final, desperate bid for freedom.

The gym's atmosphere turned electric as O'Conor's hand slapped against her leg three times.

The signal for surrender.

With a graceful roll, Ophelia disengaged, rising from her perch on his neck.

She smiled a little, her new team respected her now. Would trust her to have their back in the field.

Thanks to him.

Ooh, how that probably stung his massive ego.

O'Conor, now freed from the clutches of defeat, drew in deep, rasping breaths while coughing loudly, spit flying from his lips.

"Fucking hell, are you insane!" he bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of the struggle and the bitter taste of defeat and wounded pride of a man.

O'Conor's enraged outburst reverberated through the gym, a volatile mixture of frustration and disbelief.

There was never such a pleasing sound as a man with broken pride. Ophelia wanted to bottle it and use it as a perfume.

Her only response was a sly, unapologetic smile that danced across her lips.

Her brown eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and triumph as she looked at the people people around her.

Decked out in tactical gear holding all sorts of weapons.

If they weren't insane, they were in the wrong profession.

She lifted both eyebrows in a mockingly innocent gesture, her smile widening as she gestured theatrically to the people around her.

"Um... have you seen where you are?" she quipped, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

She saw her new teammates smile and laugh, even as O'Conor's face went red and his jaw clenched.