Chapter 27
Kinzer’s eyes flitted open. He felt tired, groggy. Like the sort of hangover he’d experienced ever since his wings were clipped. He groaned out loud, wincing before glancing around whatever room he’d wound up in.
As his vision cleared, a trickling sound caught his attention. Water ran down the wall before him, into a pool of water that ran alongside the floor.
Kinzer turned to see a figure lying beside him. It was Hayde, his ankle trapped in some sort of shackle, a chain running from it to a bolt in the wall.
“Hayde,” he muttered as he started to crawl toward him, but he didn’t make it very far before he felt a tug around his neck and fell back, the sound of rattling chains echoing around him. He grabbed the obstruction—some sort of collar.
“Fuck,” he said as he realized what a shitty situation he was in.
“Oh, Kinzer,” a voice came from behind him.
He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. That voice stirred so many emotions, the strongest of which was betrayal.
He rolled onto his knees, toward the voice.
On the opposite end of the room, on a raised platform centered between two columns, stood a throne. Janka sat in it, claiming his self-appointed reign over the realms. In white suit pants and white shoes that shone in the overhead lights, Janka remained shirtless, allowing his good wing to stretch out. His other, cut from one of Kinzer’s previous encounters with him. His body was as impressive as it always was, his arms bulky with the veins on display, the outline around and between his abs defined even in his seated position. His broad shoulders and thick pecs reminded Kinzer of just how strong he was, even for an immortal. How much fun they’d had on nights when Janka would toss him around the room, fucking him in all the positions Kinzer had enjoyed so much.
Flanking the throne, two large immortals with white wings and wearing black metal masks stood tall, their hands on the hilts of their swords, which faced down, the tips touching the stone floor.
Janka looked down at Kinzer, a twisted smirk on that arrogant expression of his. His dirty-blond hair was spiked in the front, short on the sides. He had a bit of scruff, meticulously groomed, decorating his square jawline. The smirk he wore wasn’t an expression like anything Kinzer had seen during their time together.
This was not the compassionate, friendly lover Kinzer had been with—or at least, that he’d believed he’d known. This was a monster, ego-driven, wild with dark ambitions.
Janka slid off the throne and walked down a set of steps off the platform, his sword shifting about in the sheath affixed to his belt. He didn’t move as though he was in any particular hurry, but like he had the luxury of millennia ahead of him. It was not the frantic pace Kinzer felt was appropriate for the apocalypse.
“How are you, Kinzer? You seem weak.” Janka’s tone was cruel, spiteful.
But Kinzer wouldn’t let it affect him. Pushing off his palm, he rose to his feet and stood tall, though not nearly as tall as Janka. “Vera should’ve killed us,” Kinzer said. “It would have made your life a lot easier.”
Janka chuckled. “Kill you? You think I need Vera to kill someone who’s no more powerful than a mortal at this point? Or maybe his little flit friend over here, who is probably as useless in terms of strength as a mortal?”
“You don’t have your immortal strength anymore either,” Kinzer reminded him, taking delight in the fact that he’d stripped him of that as well when he’d clipped his wing in their previous encounter.
Janka’s expression grew serious as he approached him. “I have enough,” he said. He snatched Kinzer by his throat, gripping above the collar, and Kinzer could tell he wasn’t wrong about his strength. He was much stronger, far too strong for Kinzer, who thrashed about, hitting, pushing, trying to get Janka to release him.
Janka held him in his grasp, taking his breath. He pulled him close so that Kinzer was forced to stare into those blue eyes he once associated withlove. That word seemed so foreign in juxtaposition with the bastard who stood before him.
Janka released him, throwing him down on the ground. Kinzer took a fresh breath of air as Janka turned and walked away, moving toward Hayde.
No. He couldn’t hurt him. Kinzer would have done anything, given his own life, before letting that happen.
“This is about me,” Kinzer said. “You can leave him alone.”
“Is it about you?” Janka asked. “I mean, admittedly, Kinzer, you’ve been quite a thorn in my side ever since this all began. Of the two of you, I certainly believed you’d be a lot easier to manipulate, but you keep impressing me.”
He squatted down beside Hayde and slapped the back of his hand against his face. “He must’ve gotten a much bigger whiff than you to be under this long,” Janka said.
As he said the words, Hayde sprung to life, wrapping his arms around Janka and pulling him to the ground.
Clever flit.He must’ve been pretending to trick Janka.
Hayde grabbed the hilt of Janka’s sword and pulled it from its sheath. Rising onto his knees, he raised his arms over his head, preparing to drive the sword down upon Janka, who lay on the floor. While Janka reached into his pocket, Hayde brought the sword down with a force that Kinzer was sure would put an end to their worries, their struggle, their strife, and the despair of all the realms. But before he could strike, Hayde’s body twisted and jerked. He released the sword, which Janka seized by the blade. Hayde collapsed onto his side, leaving Janka chuckling, his lighthearted amusement transforming quickly into a cackle. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and pressed the tip of the blade to the floor, pushing himself to his feet.
“Oh, Hayde, aren’t you a smart little flitty bastard?” Janka said. “Unfortunately for you, I discovered what this remote was for while you were sleeping. Such a brilliant little device it is that you have on him, Kinzer. Kinky, for sure.” He winked. “I’m curious to understand the circumstances through which it was necessary to restrain your own ally, but—”
“It was a little mix-up,” Kinzer said.
