Page 38 of Warlord's Plaything

Fuck.

Fuck.

I don’t have time to think.

We’re losing.

More of us are falling.

And I have two choices.

Run.

Or burn.

"We need to move!"

Sella’s voice barely reaches me.

I blink, shaking off the fog, the hunger, the thing in my blood that doesn’t belong.

We can’t win this fight.

Not here.

Not yet.

"Fall back!"I snarl, grabbing Dagen’s arm and shoving him toward the tunnel.

Sella is already moving, leading the others, her blade slick with blood.

I spin, slashing one last time before breaking for the exit.

The warriors chase us, but not all of them.

Some of them just watch.

And I know.

I fucking know.

We’ve lost. There is no escape tonight with half of us just staring at me. Because whatever I just did—whatever just moved through me—wasn’t human.

14

XYRON

Hira is dragged before me, bleeding and defiant.

Her wrists are bound with iron, her hair tangled from the fight, dried blood smearing the curve of her throat.

And fuck me—she looks like something out of a war god’s dream.

Bruised, battered, but still standing. Still looking at me like she owns the fucking ground she bleeds on.

The guards shove her forward.

She doesn’t stumble.

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