Page 52 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“Yes, sir,” the kings said in unison, but the expressions on their faces said they weren’t happy about it.

Lothaire nodded like they were in agreement.

How he missed the manic sadomasochistic glint in their eyes was beyond me.

“Good,” Lothaire said gravely. “Because there’s been a change of plans with this year’s training.”

Everyone froze.

“The High Court has ordered all of you to form a legion and compete in the Legionnaire Games. The games will be held here at Elite Academy. I’ll be the host.”

I blinked.

Swallowed thickly.

I dug my nail into my lower lip. I pulled off a flap of skin.

New life plan: figure out how to kill myself before the Legionnaire Games began.

Chapter 8

Aran

BESEECHING

The beginning: Shackles—Day 5, hour 4

Flames screamed in the crackling hearth.

There was a bloodstain on the ornate rug beneath my feet.

The room was red and hazy.

Stained glass sparkled.

I’d spent countless nights hyperventilating in this room, but Lothaire’s presence made it seem darker and more depressing than usual.

He’d sucked the life out of the space.

On the ceiling, a black hole swirled lazily.

I stared at the cracks behind Lothaire where Malum’s blood was smeared against the broken wall.

“So,” I asked softly, “do I have to compete, or do I get a pass?”

My eyes wide with fear, shoulders slumped, my body language screamed, My delicate feminine constitution can’t handle any more violence, and I’ll probably pass away from the stress.

In my periphery John narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve just had enough violence for a lifetime.” My voice quivered. “It’s too much. I’m out.”

Scorpius scoffed. Orion’s eyes flashed with concern, and Malum said something under his breath.

Focusing on Lothaire, I crossed my arms protectively and stood small.

I took up less space.

“What?” Lothaire’s scar pulled as he furrowed his brow.

---