Jordan Novak | Jack of Spades

It wasn’t a pretty fight. Of course, there were no pretty fights, not really. When Jordan had challenged in fencing when he’d been fifteen, that had been a pretty challenge, more like dancing than a battle. But this was different.

Maddox Hobbs was not his equal, he thought, and they both knew it. But the Seven wasn’t as useless with blades as he and Ethan had made him out to be when they’d been talking about it. He was fast, and he didn’t hesitate with his knife. He hadn’t earned his reputation wrongly, really; he had the marks of a good killer. And Jordan supposed that killing the king’s cousin would either be a terrible mistake or a notch in Maddox’s belt. Maddox was likely to think of it as the latter. That was the sort of man he was.

Jordan fell back slightly - as if he was regrouping - and waited to see Maddox’s reaction. There was a curve to the other man’s lips then, a slight smirk, and if it was practice, Jordan would roll his eyes at it. Cocky, he thought. There were too many of them who had that as their downfall. It wasn’t fatal during training.

But they weren’t training.

He waited for Maddox to move, and he didn’t have to wait long for the other man’s lunge forward. The rest of what happened was too quick to see, unless they were accustomed to watching this kind of thing. Which likely was most of the audience, Jordan thought as grabbed Maddox’s wrist with his left hand, twisting it and the Seven’s dagger away from him hard enough that they could both hear the grind and pop of the bones. Maddox’s eyes filled with sharp pair and hard anger, but Jordan was still moving, and a moment later the Seven’s expression went shocked and then blank.

The former Seven, at least. He wasn’t anything anymore, Jordan thought as he pulled his dagger from between the other man’s ribs, the steel smearing bright red. Then he let go of his wrist and let Maddox Hobbs fall to the floor of the exercise room, his blood staining the floor beneath them. Jordan Novak turned away, his expression cool and still as he moved to clean his blade. Michael wouldn’t be pleased with what he’d done. For himself, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to feel. Maddox Hobbs was the first man he’d killed. Maybe there was something fitting about the fact that it was to come back to the Spades.

He should do something about the wounds Maddox had managed to get in, he expected.