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teasing tone.  “Lover’s spat, you two?” 
     
    “Rachel,” Devyn said, her tone sharp.  However, her eyes were focused primarily on the man before her, green matching green, both flashing emerald as though they were warning each other not to push it.
     
    Without warning, Gerard reached out and grabbed Devyn’s hand, pulling her underneath a nearby tree where he knew they were secluded from both cameras and people who wanted to overhear their conversation – their fight.  People like Rachel.
     
    “This may come as a shock to you, but women now are allowed to do whatever they want,” Devyn said, crossing her arms over her chest.  She tried to ignore the slow pain that was building up in her back, but it was so hard to do when it was getting worse and worse.  “They don’t need a man’s permission.”
     
    “I’m not a sexist,” Gerard said, his brow furrowed in confusion at the mere notion that he was.  He placed his hands over his chest as he said, “I love women.  I’ve fought against strong women.  But what you’re doing is out of stubbornness.  You’re not doing this because it’s right or anything like that.  You’re doing this to prove a point.”
     
    “Oh really?” Devyn asked, arching a brow and giving Gerard a challenging stare.  “Then, pray tell, what point am I trying to prove since you know me so well.”
     
    “It’s what you said,” Gerard said, taking one step closer to her as though he was trying to remind her how tall he was, how strong he was.  Devyn would not allow herself to be intimidated by him.
     
    Or distracted by how close he was to her.
     
    “By you getting injured only twenty-four hours before and then coming out to fight, you’re telling everyone that you are not broken,” Gerard said, his voice suddenly quiet, his eyes suddenly calculating.  “Even the best warrior needs to know when to take a break.”
     
    “Listen,” Devyn said through gritted teeth, after allowing her mind to process everything he said.  “I don’t know how they did it in Scotland, but if you miss one day of training and they find out, they bench you.  You don’t get to participate in this little game they’ve conjured up.  They have no problem saving you for the next one they’re probably going to have next year.”
     
    Gerard looked like he was about to argue, but slowly shut his mouth.  If such a thing were true, he couldn’t exactly blame her for at least attempting to train.  But that still didn’t mean she should.  Though she wasn’t bleeding very much, she was still bleeding to the point where it was noticeable and he knew he would have to dress her wounds.  Not that he minded; he was just frustrated she had them in the first place.
     
    “And I’m not going to let Rachel down,” Devyn continued, though now her voice was hushed and her eyes were fixed somewhere else.  “If I’m benched then so is Rachel because I’m her training partner.  I can’t let that happen.”
     
    “Why do you want to be a part of this competition so badly?” Gerard asked her.  He wasn’t being rude or angry, but he was frustrated that he couldn’t understand her.
     
    “Freedom,” she said in a whisper, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “Freedom.” 
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    The following two days went pretty much the same way.  Devyn and Rachel would train together, and though Gerard never admitted it, he watched the two fight in order to ensure Devyn didn’t hurt herself anymore while fighting with Hugh.  After lunch, Gerard would take Devyn back to her cell, but instead of engaging in procreation, as they should be doing, he would dress her wounds and make sure that she was all right. 
     
    The two, though they would never agree, were decidedly getting along, better and better with each passing day.  They still argued constantly; it wasn’t uncommon to see Gerard approaching Devyn after she attempted to do some move that she