Page 106 of The Fire Went Wild

This manisthe leader. I’m sure of it. He’s older, and he wears a casual tailored suit, which feels absurd given the situation.Blood is everywhere and the man missing his hand has started screaming again.

The leader has a gun pointed at Jaxon’s chest.

“What do you say?” he says amicably. “Let’s talk about it.”

Jaxon looks over at me, his face splattered with blood.

“Who is this?” I spit out.

The man tosses me a lazy glance like he’s unbothered by my presence. “This your girl?” He grins at me, but I can sense the fear in him. I can taste it, a syrupy darkness like my favorite Turkish coffee. “Sweetheart, I just told your boyfriend here that I’d pay him a million dollars each year to come work for me. You’d like that, huh? Fancy dinners. Expensive handbags.”

Expensive cliches, more like. I step forward, every muscle in my body quivering. “Who are you?”

The man glances at Jaxon, but Jaxon just keeps standing there like a nightmare, his blades dripping blood. I don’t think he’s moved at all. “Damien Tyloch,” the man says smoothly. “I’d offer my hand, but well, I’m currently engaged.”

I narrow my eyes. “But whoareyou?”

Tyloch studies me for a moment, his gun still pointed at Jaxon. “I run the Undying Lineage of the Stars,” he says. “And I’m afraid I made a rather grave error when I set up an arrangement with a certainentity.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I can feel Jaxon’s bloodlust radiating off him. But I want to understand what’s going on. I want to know about the man I killed, the man who awoke the Hunter in me.

“So you knew Oliver Raffia,” I say.

Tyloch laughs—he’s nervous, the laugh edged in hysteria. “We were partners,” he says. “Until I had to sacrifice him to appease an evil god.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I feel like your girl is more reasonable than you,” Tyloch says to Jaxon. “This is what I was trying to explain. We have a shared benefactor from the Abyss.”

Jaxon’s gods. That must be who the entity is, the evil god—one of Jaxon’s gods.

One of my gods.

“That’s why I’m here,” Tyloch continues, glancing over at me. “Your boyfriend is one of the best assassins I’ve ever seen. I could use someone with his skills. So talk some sense into him, won’t you?”

Jaxon glances at me with an almost imperceptible movement, and I feel, just for a half-second, a deluge of emotions. He thinks this shit isfunny. That’s the only reason he’s letting Tyloch talk, the only reason he’s letting Tyloch keep a gun trained on his chest. Jaxon’s toying with him, and he thinks I’m toying with him too. Playing the part of the scared girlfriend, Tyloch’s potential salvation.

“Why did Raffia have to be sacrificed?” I ask.

Tyloch frowns. “That’s of no concern to you, young lady.”

And then he sweeps the gun away from Jaxon and points it at my chest and, once again, my fear surges up.

So does Jaxon’s. Ismellit, stronger than Tyloch’s fear, stronger than the metallic tang of the terror and suffering pouring out of the man Jaxon wounded, who’s still whimpering and bleeding beside me. Jaxon’s panic slams over me like a wash of cold air.

Do not die.

Tyloch laughs, hard and cruel. “So that’s how I break through to you, huh?” He looks at me, but he’s not talking to me. “You know the terms, boy. You’ve got ten seconds to decide before I shoot those gorgeous tits of hers.”

Jaxon looks at me and an inhuman voice echoes in my head.

Move.

I jump sideways at the same time that Jaxon swings his cleaver and lodges it in Tyloch’s neck. The gun fires, exploding a section of the wall into plaster and wood splinters. My ears ring.

I whirl around as Jaxon jerks his cleaver away with a fan of thick blood. Tyloch topples to the floor, wheezing out one last, rattling breath. Jaxon watches him, then lifts his gaze to me.

He looks like a god of death.

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