”Logan! Wait!”
”What?”
“There’s still one left. Let me put some stitches on it…”
“Just leave it. They pay for the blood, not sutures…”

Last ten years we have been traveling with a group of fighters. Some of them mutants, some humans. During those years crowds have gotten more eager for blood. The more of it gets spilled, the more they are willing to pay. We have been planning to skip the boat before going gets too rough. In my opinion it got that way well over a year ago. That’s when Logan made me quit fighting.

“Oh, God…”
“Don’t worry about it… I’ll heal…”
“You’re bleeding all over the place!”
“Stop fussing… Oh, fuck! Stop fucking poking me!”
“I have to! You don’t heal fast enough! You’ll bleed to death or something!”
“Leave my liver alone! It’s already shot to hell! Just… Oh, shit… Give me that!”

He’s gotten quite skilled at stitching. We both have. We had no other options. When they started allowing machines in the arena… Even Logan’s healing can’t keep up when he goes few rounds against a harvester.

“There.”
“Careful. Don’t get up yet… Logan, sit down! You’ll tear it open again!”
“Don’t have time… Mac’s still in there…”
“You’re not going back in! Logan!”
“I have to. Mac doesn’t heal… That fucking thing will tear him to pieces…”
“Logan!”

That thing. Don’t know where they found it. I don’t know how they got it running again. It doesn’t matter. I screamed when they wheeled it in. And Logan was grinning like a fucking maniac. A sentinel. A fucking sentinel.

“Got there in time. It had gotten Mac cornered.”
“Uh-huh…”
“I got him out of the way just in time.”
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about Mac. I don’t give a shit about this fucking freak show. I don’t give a damn if we have to live in some ditch and eat roasted roaches. What I do care is you. You could have died today. I may be a selfish bastard, but do you have any idea what that would have done to me?”
“Marie… Kid…”
“Don’t you dare to apologize. Don’t you dare to say you’re sorry. I saw you. You’re not sorry. You were loving every fucking moment of it!”
“I…”
“You have no intentions to quit this.”
“Uh… No. But Marie…”
“Fuck you! You said we would quit before one of us got hurt! One of us! That includes you, too! That fucking machine nearly gutted you like a fucking fish today! You do realize you’re not immortal? Or are you just so fucked up that you enjoy the pain?”
“So what if I am! What if I am fucked up? Huh? Shouldn’t be a surprise to you! I went back there today, because Mac was in trouble! Mac! The guy that has saved both of our hides about thousand times already! I wasn’t going to stand by and watch when a fucking sentinel finished him off!”

We rarely fight. When we do, it’s usually about this. About how Logan seems to think that his life doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t matter. That his death wouldn’t make any difference. Like it would be okay and perfectly acceptable to die, if he just has a good reason for it.

“Fuck this. I need a drink.”
“Don’t even think about walking out that door!”

Uh-oh… Forgot how quick he is… Kind of hard to breathe when you’re dangling up on the wall, Logan’s fingers wrapped around your throat.

“You were saying…?” Eyebrow. He just gave me the eyebrow.
“Logan… You’re strangling me…”
“Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, Marie. Do you know why? Let me tell you a secret…” In an other situation this might be sexy as hell, his thick and strong thigh lodged between mine, hard body pressing against me and his breath caressing the side of my throat. I can feel his lips move against my earlobe when he whispers.

“We can’t fucking die…”

We can’t. Not as easily as others. And I have never been as grateful for that than I am now, still against the wall, Logan forcing his way in, pinning me to the place like a butterfly through my shoulders with his claws.

We can’t die.