I’d gotten my first rune tattooed on my body at age eleven. I couldn’t remember a day when I hadn’t activated them. If I shit too hard, I’d even had one on my ass to ease that.
Now I had nothing. I was as soft as a toddler.
While my eyes watered, I focused on not losing track of the rune still forming in my left hand.
Suddenly, Xan appeared precisely where I had been. More prepared than I was, he chambered one leg forward and donkey-kicked Ashkar off me.
The two grappled while movement in my peripheral vision showed me Erick madly diving for the hatch. My rune clicked into place, and I shot a blast of pure energy at him. The filthy Londoner rolled out of the way only to hit the wall of the tiny space. The sound of snapping fingers echoed loudly, and something hot and sticky wrapped around my legs, pinning me to my brother. A body that had not previously been in the Alun bumped my hip, and a loud crack split the space.
“Son of a bitch,” Rowan swore. The big ox stooped and rubbed his head, where I could only guess he had struck solid stone.
A fist connected with my gut again. It was my turn to swear as my full attention returned to Emil, who was stuck under me thanks to Erick.
Six bodies crammed into the Alun left us with no space to move, and we became a ball of elbows, knees, and rage.
A whoosh of fresh air hit my lungs. Erick leaped through the trapdoor. Rowan pushed down on my hips to barrel after him. With the freed space, Ashkar hit Xan hard, and the Architect landed on the ground next to me.
“You can’t be here,” Emil’s voice once again made me focus. “Our Prophet’s dead. Someone must control the family.”
I snarled as anger ignited every nerve in my body. “We never needed to be controlled.”
Rage made me stupid. I struck out at Emil and broke his nose with a sickening crack. Next to me, Xan let out a painful grunt. The Architect wasn’t a fighter, but without my tattooed runes, I couldn’t take both men.
My distraction gave Emil enough time to wiggle free and glare at me with murder in his eyes. “You empowered us,” he gasped. “Showed us we could fix the world—” His lips curled. “Don’t fight us. Lead us.”
My stomach twisted.
“The world needs to bow to the Sun God.” Dark green lines formed at his hip. “Every woman should experience his blessing through us.”
Red swallowed my vision. I slammed my shoulder into his chest. He went flying back into the wall. His head cracked against the curved ceiling first, though his runes minimized his impact. I didn’t give him a chance to recover. The rage I hadn’t let myself experience vibrated in my fists. No woman, no person, should go through what I did. I started punching. While the only thing I had left was whatever strength my human arms contained, it didn’t matter that his network of runes protected him.
His face was my face. My Prophet's face. The face of our horrible cult that destroyed everything it touched.
My third punch cracked against his shield—bone breaking in my hand. The pain didn’t stop me. It fed me. How much hurt had I caused? The fourth sent a jarring ache down to my elbow. How many lives had I destroyed? I punched and kneed the copy of myself until I couldn’t feel my hands.
At some point, the runes on his skin dulled as they ran out of juice. I was too numb to feel the difference. Instead of impacting the magic protecting his body, my fists split flesh. Bones broke, and skin parted under my assault. I missed a half-drawn rune he’d somehow managed with his right hand. He smacked it against the side of my face. Agony blinded me, and my ears rang, but I didn’t move off the bloody copy of me. My vision returned to find Emil trembling with pain and struggling for every breath.
I put my hand on his chest and drew. He didn’t even struggle.
“It’s my time,” Emil rasped, blood bubbling between his teeth. “The Prophet has seen fit, Sun God’s will…” scripture carved into my very soul hissed through his broken jaw until I connected the final line of my rune.
At my will, his heart stopped.
Someone touched my shoulder, and I spun around, only to find Xan with his hands up. Ashkar slumped lifelessly against the wall. His vacant, dead eyes looked at nothing, while his body didn’t have a mark on it.
A shiver ran down my back.
Xan lowered his hands. One of his eyes puffed angrily. “Their minds were too deeply poisoned. There was nothing else we could do.”
“Did you look?” I barely recognized my rough, battered voice.
Xan inclined his head.
My gaze dropped to Emil’s bloody corpse. My raw insides clawed at me. On some level, I wanted it to be me on that floor. “Will you look inside mine?”
Xan reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. His baby-blue gaze met mine. “I don’t need to, and you don’t need me to. Quinn needs you. This world needs you.” His fingers pressed into my shoulder. “Feel what you need to feel and lean on your friends. You will get through this, Cayden. You will.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
