“Oh, thank fuck,” she chokes out.
“As a special treat to you all, the God of Judgment is allowing you to pick up your weapons now as you proceed to your sides.”
Sevryn’s head pivots toward the God of Judgment, who smugly smirks and nods at him. I pull my shoulders back as he grips Yemi by the elbow and marches over to two discarded swords.
There’s one a few feet to my left and the moment my fingers wrap around it, my body goes cold.
My thumb smears the blood on the handle, and the sticky texture has my throat catching fire.
“Come over here, Thayla,” Sevryn orders darkly and I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
With every step, I scan the crowd booing us on my entire miserable march to their side.
Their hatred for us is solely because of association with Sevryn. They may hate him for whatever it was the announcer meant, but I find myself gaining a little respect that I don’t want to have toward him.
It takes courage to go against everything you’ve been raised to know. I’m not saying that’s what he did—fuck if I know—but if I’m correct in assuming the announcer means he betrayed his father, then in my eyes, he’s on our side of this fight.
In here and out there.
“Before we begin, we have two more surprises for you. First”—an elated smile splits the announcer’s face as he holds his hand out toward us—“the son of the God of Pain’s do not kill order has been lifted.”
Holy fuck.
Nearly every being in the crowd jumps to their feet, cheering and pointing. Dimitri’s laugh cuts through all the noise as he holds his stomach, aiming his sword at us.
Sevryn doesn’t move. He stays staring ahead as his face falls, but mine heats at least ten degrees.
This is fucked. It’s so wrong.
All of this is wrong.
“Your second surprise.” The deafening noise simmers down as the announcer raises his hand. “Sudden death!”
A wave of power blasts through the center. Right before my eyes, piles of weapons form at the thresholds of the awaiting arches.
“You bastard. I’ll kill you for this,” Dimitri shouts at the God of Judgment, who’s falling apart in a fit of laughter.
“Fuck. Move, we have to get away from the edge,” Sevryn demands, then takes off, dragging Yemi behind him.
“What does this—”
I cut Yemi off as my feet pound beside hers. “They’re all about to attack us. Is this a last man standing kind of thing?”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“Don’t deviate from the plan. They’re almost here. Stay close, Yemi.”
Sevryn spins to face me, angrier than a pissed off taurn. “Stop living in a fantasy and filling her head with naïve fucking hope. No one is fucking coming.”
“Keep talking to me like that, you dickhead, and we’re going to leave your ass here when they get here.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes widen, and his arm shoots out beside my head. I spin on instinct, dropping low and readying my sword.
The individual, who obviously has a domain under the God of Endurance to be able to catch up to us that quickly, is convulsing on the ground.
Sevryn’s eyes swirl as he holds his hand out as though the man’s throat is clutched between his fingers. With a vicious grunt, he slams his fists closed and the man stops moving.
He peers down at my crouched position. “You were planning on taking me with you?”
