Unease tensed in Acacius’s stomach. He squeezed his fists tighter, a war of emotion battling in his chest. A mess that he couldn’t decipher but couldn’t escape either.
Marina losing her title meant nothing if he didn’t get to see her suffer when it slipped from her grasp. In this state, she didn’t seem to care, like the night he pinned her down on the rooftop in Tenebris. Just as she claimed.
Iliana cleared her throat at his side, a subtle reminder that it was his turn to speak.
“Then you may proceed.” As the words left his mouth, Torin did not waste a breath.
The god disappeared and materialized in front of Marina as the Council evaporated as a whole, leaving behind plumes of vapor that braided together.
Acacius’s feet touched the solid ground of the coliseum’s highest level. It had a vantage that overlooked the entire hall.
Quickly, he stepped up to the railing, watching closely with an accelerated heart.
Torin extended his arm to the side. An abyssal longsword formed in his grasp.
Marina made no effort to move or dodge him as he plunged the blade into her sternum.
What the hell is she doing?
Marina choked out a wet sound, blood spewing from her mouth like spilled wine.
Torin released his makeshift blade and fabricated another in his other hand.
Marina curled over, giving Torin plenty of time to clasp his hands together and drive the weapon into her spine.
Acacius’s fists squeezed at his sides, tensing the muscles of his forearms.
Torin tangled his fist in the back of her hair and slammed her face into the floor, cracking webs into the stone. Again and again, her skull ruptured against the solid ground.
Sickness curdled in his stomach. Her nose snapped, and the bones of her cheeks sunk in, shattered and unable to mend faster than Torin’s assault.
Fuck.
Rage bristled in Acacius’s chest, furious with her for doing nothing—for letting a god like Torin have his way so easily. This was unlike her. Even when he found her alone all those years ago, overlooking Evander’s punishment, she’d acknowledged Acacius with a blaze in her dark eyes.
Torin held her up by the hair, grinning darkly. “I’m glad you kneeled to me with such ease. Your reign is over, Lady Marina.”
Acacius held the railing in a steel grip, careful to keep from damaging it.
Torin let go, and Marina collapsed onto the floor in the scarlet puddle.
Get up.
Torin stood tall, proudly towering over the fallen goddess.
That ugly, growing knot in Acacius’s chest, eager to see her fall, quickly untied in his stomach.
Not like this.
At this rate, she would actually lose her title.
The air constricted in Acacius’s lungs.
This is what you wanted.
His pulse reverberated in his skull.
No.
