“The challenge goes to Oliver,” the announcer shouted.
Oliver winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. That match was nothing.
But it made an impact. The crowd didn’t cheer, but they didn’t boo either. Neither did the warriors. Everyone stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what Oliver had just done.
“Up next, Theon, a blood-banded angel from the Devils Squadron, has challenged his own squadmate, Oliver.”
Oh, shit.
The warriors thundered their approval, hollering, pounding their chests, and shooting bursts of flame and water into the air. The crowd, caught up in the excitement, followed suit.
“You two sure know how to make friends,” Alexei commented.
“Hard to make friends with angels that suffocate you daily,” I replied.
Alexei flipped his dagger, considering Ichi. “Is that so?”
Ichi turned and gave him a slight bow. “I wasn’t a part of it, but I stopped it.”
“You should’ve said something, beautiful.”
I crossed my arms. “Why? So the big bad Dreads could come to our rescue and make us look weaker?”
He had no response to that—because he knew I was right.
Theon luscelered into the ring, pumping his fist in the air, and the cheers grew deafening. He paraded around as the crowd threw flowers and coins at his feet, even a few lace panties. I wanted to find those females and tell them they were better off saving their panties for someone who wasn’t a rotten piece of shit.
Oliver leaned on Marcel’s sword, looking as unimpressed as I felt. Not that my opinion of Theon could fall much further—it was already seven circles under.
Theon reached down and picked up a red lace thong, sniffing it as he grinned.
Heavenly Hell, he made me sick.
Still crouched beside his new pile of panties, Theon raised his hand—and water slammed into Oliver’s chest, knocking him flat. He never saw it coming.Inever saw it coming. Theon had played into our expectations.
He luscelered, blurring across the short distance. He double-fisted his axe, raised it high, and swung for Oliver’s head with everything he had. No pause. No hesitation. Theon wanted to take Oliver’s life—fast and viciously.
“Roll!” I screamed, my skin itching.
Oliver didn’t.
Instead, he whipped up the sword, and steel clanged against steel, ringing through the crowd’s noise. Theon bore down on him. Metal screeched as Oliver held the axe at bay. Blood bloomed through the glove of his left hand as his arms strained against Theon’s burly strength.
Why didn’t he just roll? Oliver’s muscles were half Theon’s size. And he was fighting from his back.
Theon’s axe pushed lower, inching toward his neck.
“Use your power!” I shouted. He should’ve done that from the start.
What was Oliver playing at?
He didn’t listen. Theon grinned, and water swallowed Oliver’s face—a green light refractedthrough the liquid.
So, he was using his powers. But they weren’t enough. Either they didn’t affect Theon, or he had a strong mind shield, and Oliver couldn’t penetrate.
The axe lowered further.
I lurched forward, only to be stopped by Ichi. “We don’t intervene.”
