Part 3

We ran at each other.

Our swords clashed and we held the other.

"I certainly hope you've improved your fighting skills after all these years."

I turned under my arm and pressed Francisco sword to the side and down. "Me?"

I turned spun right, aiming to wedge my sword in Francisco's neck. He blocked. "I was at the top of Conrad's class. You were the one who was in dire need of practice."

He pushed my sword back down, forcing me to turn the opposite way and bring my sword around and knock away his blow, which was aiming for my legs.

I circle his sword away and made a swipe from his head, but head ducked.

He made a swipe for my stomach, forcing me to jump back.

I twirled my sword in a figure-8 formation, trying to distract him, before I bore down on his head.

We held each other, each struggling to push the other down.

Suddenly, his free arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer while he pushed my sword to the side and down.

There was no space between our torsos and he enjoyed it.

He smirked down at me, purring, "You've become very well endowed over the years."

I sneered at him and circle my leg up, slamming it right into his side and forcing him to release me.

I threw myself into a spinning kick and kicked his sword right out of his hand before planting my feet, firmly, on the ground and holding my blade to his neck.

I smirked up at him, basking in the triumph. "How has that young girl survived all these years with you as one of her body guards? I'll never know."

Anger blossomed over his face, making my smirk brighter.

He grasped my wrist and, harshly, twisted my arm behind my back, forcing my blade to fall from my limp fingers.

As I struggled against him, Francisco kicked my blade away.

Then, he grabbed my free wrist, halting my struggling before he whispered into my ear, "You always did get too cocky, too quickly, Adri. It was always your greatest weakness."

Now angered light my heart and my pride over took me.

I dug my heel into his toe and kicked his in the shin before he released my wrist.

I brought my elbow back, striking him on the temple and forcing him to release me.

I spun away and glared at him, waiting for him to recover from my blows.

Once he had done so, I took a wide stance and rise my fists in threats.

Shockingly, he started chuckling, full heartedly.

I narrowed my eyes at him and said, "Would it be too much trouble for you to let me in on the joke?"

He, smugly, said, "You are the source of the joke; you know well that you're horrible when it comes to fighting with your bare hands. And, even if you weren't, I don't fight young ladies, no matter how shrewish they may be."

"Hold your tongue! Turn and fight, coward!"

I started swinging my fists at him, randomly and savagely. And he, cool, calm and collect as ever, dodged without a single problem.

Finally, I threw everything I had into an arching left hook.

That's when he decided to end things.

He ducked and pushed himself off the ground, tackling into me and slamming me to the cobblestone.

He pinned my arms above my head and sat right on top of my legs, making it impossible to move them effectively.

I wriggled and thrashed beneath him, struggling against his grip and wait, to no avail.

He chuckled down at me, saying, "14 years and I can still get you into this position."

I glared up at him, snarling, "GET… OFF… ME…"

His smirk widened. "I don't want to."

He started lowered himself onto me, making me struggle harder.

I thrashed my head about, trying to stop him. I was throwing my head around so hard that my hood slipped off and my hair tumbled out.

He was inches away form making contact and I was just glaring up at him, silently telling him to back off.

Suddenly, a gruff voice sliced through the night air; "Keep looking! I'm sure I heard someone yelling!"

We both froze.

I shipped my head to the side and looked towards the city clock.

Midnight.

I snapped my head back to Francisco, in cold, harsh, hissing realization. "The Caribinieri's Midnight Check!"

He didn't need to be told twice.

He leaped off of me and dashed to his sword, swooping it up and sheathing it.

I kipped up to my feet and swooped my sword up as well.

Once I had it sheathed, Francisco said, "Back to the hide out."

I grabbed his forearm, stopping him. "No time. We're to far away. If they don't catch up to us, another division will."

We had no time to think.

Francisco grabbed my hand and we started running.

We ran through the streets and alleyways of Neo Verona, trying to find any hiding place.

And, while we managed to loose one Caribinieri group, we nearly ran into another.

Finally, Francisco tugged me down an alley way on the side of pub.

Imagine our panic when it turned out to be a dead end.

I heard a member of the Caribinieri come closer to the alley way, saying "I'm sure I saw something."

I ripped out of Francisco's grasp and rested my hand on my sword, smirking. "Only one thing left to do.

Footsteps came closer and my gripped tightened until my knuckle were white.

Shadows loomed at the entrance of the alley way.

'Time to draw.'

In that moment, time slowed.

I heard fabric being thrown off.

I started to draw my sword.

Francisco grabbed my hood.

He tore it off.

My hair tumbled back out.

He pulled me back behind him.

He threw me against the wall.

He threw himself on me.

He pinned my shoulder to the wall.

He crashed his lips on top of me.

I snapped my eyes open.

For me, time froze with my body.

I was only, vaqueuly, aware of everything.

Francisco's big hands, wandering and rubbing my body.

His lips against mine, starting to become more sloppy and wet.

And two Caribinieri soldiers, standing at the end of the alley.

They're words echoed in my head; "Oh, it's just a couple disgusting drunks." "Leave 'em be; if they keep that up, they'll end up inside soon enough."

Their fading footsteps stayed with me.

I looked around at the scene.

Francisco's coat, discarded and left on the ground. Both of us with long, mussed-up hair. His shirt, hanging open. His wet and sloppy kisses. His roaming hands.

The Caribinieri was right; we looked like disgusting drunks.

That was what saved us. Francisco had saves us. Had saved me.

That thought disturbed me.

But what disturbed me more; the realization that Francisco wasn't stopping.

He arms had found their way around my waist and held me fast.

His kiss became less sloppy but it was still hungry.

And there I was, hanging, limply, in his arms, letting him have his way, like some fool.

All my anger, all my frustration, all the pain; Everything that this man had caused me filled my eyes as the worst glare I could possibly muster.

I dug my heel into his foot, making him falter.

I kicked him in the shin, making him release me.

I slammed my knee into his stomach, making him bend over.

I slammed my fist into his lower jaw, sending him back wards onto his ass.

I leaped over him and broke into a run.

I tugged my hood back over my head.

I couldn't let him see my tears. I couldn't let anyone see my tears.

'He just had to do that. He just had to take a knife and twist it.'