Walls buckle.
The coliseum starts to collapse.
“MOVE!” Oren shouts, grabbing me around the waist and slinging me in Nathan’s direction.
He teleports us to the lower arch as Jet and Oren scale the wall to meet us. Zane melts an exit through the wall. Zeke freezes the ground behind us, slowing the armored guards.
Torren falls in at our backs, defending us as stone begins to fall like rain.
We burst out into the night—and the entire coliseum implodes behind us.
Bellona shakes.
The stands crumble.
Cracks split the earth.
Flames light the night sky.
I can’t believe it. I’m finally free of that place.
Zane laughed, chest heaving. “One star, would not recommend.”
Nathan grinned wickedly. “I’d give that a solid ten stars on the ‘creative destruction’ scale. Although I am disappointed that we didn’t get to sewer surf.”
“You would be disappointed about that.” Zane gagged.
Sewer surfing? What were they talking about?
Jet wiped blood from his mouth. Then grabbed me from Nathan and hugged me so tight I had difficulty breathing.
After only a few seconds, Oren pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair. His voice was barely a whisper, shaking with relief. “You’re safe now, baby.”
I wasn’t sure if he saw me kill Kristine, but I felt like I needed to say something. After all, she was his stepsister.
“I killed Kristine.” I stared intently at his face, looking for any signs of grief. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. That bitch deserved worse.” He kissed me hard on the mouth. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Over his shoulder, Torren stood at the edge of the group, sword still in hand.
Eyes still on me.
Expression unreadable.
He fought beside them. He saved my life. But I really didn’t think my men were going to be happy about his presence.
And I still don’t fully trust him, even after today.
By the time we make it deep enough into the woods that the glow of Bellona fades, my legs stop cooperating—the ground tilts. My knees give.
Oren catches me before the ground can. One arm under my knees, the other around my back, holding me like he’s afraid gravity might try to steal me next. He pressed his forehead to mine, breath ragged.
“You’re okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’reokay. I’ve got you.” His arms shake.
Nathan crouched in front of me and carefully took one of my hands, inspecting the burn marks and brushing soot off my skin as if he could erase what happened in that arena. “I want to kill every last one of those fuckers again,” he says softly, then sighs. “That’s the last time we’ll be apart, even if I have to stitch us together.”
By the look in his eyes, I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking. My psycho was absolutely capable of it.
