“Yeah, why not?” Ty said. “I could use the practice.” He smiled at the men menacingly.
Turner cleared his throat. “Ty, can I speak to you for a second?”
Ty turned to look at his cousin. He didn’t look concerned, per se, but was definitely annoyed. He walked over to him, grabbing Ena’s wrist and gently leading her over with him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Turner whispered under his breath as he stared daggers at Ty. “Take them both on at once? They’re not mortals, Ty.”
Ty shrugged. “Fine, I’ll tell them fists only. Happy?”
“Ty,” Ena said, her voice tense. “Why are you doing this? They were gonna let me go.”
Ty turned to look at her, and his heart stuttered again. How could he explain to her the guilt he felt for bringing her here? He’d known how some of the daemons were likely to treat her. He knew the things they’d say. They’d said them all about his mother.
How could he explain that he needed to do this, to show her, to show them, to showhimselfthat she was his and that he could protect her?
“Trust me,” he said. “This needs to happen. They need to see that you can’t be taken from me.”
Ena looked concerned, but she nodded.
Turner gave a put-upon sigh. “Alright, you crazy bastard, but if they fuck you up, I’m not carrying you back to your room all by myself. We’ll have to get Steig.”
Ty laughed at that. “Don’t worry. It won’t come to that.”
Turner hadn’t truly experienced what he could do. Unbeknownst to them, he’d always held back, just a little, when sparring with his friends, but he had no intention of doing that now.
Ty walked into the center of the fighting ring, placing his axe and dagger on the floor outside it. “No weapons,” he announced. “You two are due on a mission soon, aren’t you?”
Gunnar nodded slowly, placing the sword he’d selected back on the wall. “Good point,” the man said. “Wouldn’t want to disrupt Iblis’s plans. Doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, though, boy.”
Ty didn’t even respond to that. He’d let his fists do the talking.
Gunnar and Chans entered the ring with Ty. Both men had stripped off their shirts, as was custom, and he could see theironataacross their chests and arms. Gunnar had the most, given he’d been at this longer than Ty, and he was a jacked as a fucking boulder, but Ty wasn’t afraid.
Chans, on the other hand, was smaller, lither, with greasy black hair tied back into a low ponytail. His Power wasmaeror—not quite as viable in a fight, because he couldn’t imagine himself having any sadness for the man to exploit, but either way, Ty would have to make sure to keep his emotions under control, lest Gunnar capitalize on any fear and turn it into panic.
The two of them circled Ty as he raised his fists in readiness, guarding his face. He didn’t usually fight without weapons, but it was the safer bet with two daemons who were not as likely to pull deathly blows.
Gunnar struck first, his meaty fist arching towards Ty’s face. Ty ducked low, avoiding it easily, and then he felt it—the first little slip of anger.
Did this fucker not know he lived for this?
He felt the channel between him and Gunnar, and pushed it wider, feeding it with his own anger.
The way Chans had spit at Ena’s feet.
The insinuation that Gunnar wanted to hurt and fuck what washis.
Cole and his manipulations. The way he was fucking up the Underworld with his vendettas.
The way he’d kept Ena from him for nine fucking years.
The way Ty himself had let Cole win. Let her be kept from him.
The fact that his mother had left him.
The fact that his father had left him.
He was so fucking angry, and he gave it all to Gunnar.
