Page 32 of Obliterated
“Then you can call meSergeant Skarlatos,” Max fires back. “If you want to keep things official,Noura.”
Her mouth flattens. “You went against the orders of one of the Nine. Insulted one. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Max raises a brow, flicks open his tin, and pulls out a cigarette. He takes his time, striking the match, lighting it, drawing in smoke like he hasn’t a care in the world. “Depends. Which fucking time do you mean?”
I swear her head nearly explodes. Color rises in her cheeks, her jaw flexing as she snaps, “You think this is a game? Continue and you’’ll be locked up where you belong.”
“This bullshit again? Just get it over with, you ungodly bitch.” Max exhales slowly, smoke curling from his mouth, heavy with mock boredom. Then he unclips the pistol at his belt and tosses it at Tass. She catches it with both hands, lips twitching despite the tension. “Hold on to that for me?”
“I hereby place you under tribunal custody,” Noura declares, her voice slicing clean through the bar’s silence. She turns to the Watchers flanking her, her own personal guards. “Strip him of his weapons. Let’s see how he fares without them. Make it a bit more fair for the poor Walkers.”
A stone settles in my stomach, heavy and cold. But Max? He just chuckles, then shrugs like it’s nothing. His fingers work the straps across his chest as he keeps the cigarette in his mouth, unclipping the sheaths from his arms. He doesn’t hand them to the Watchers’ waiting hands, he thrusts them into mine. The weight nearly knocks me back.
For one heartbeat, I can’t breathe. His blades. Whisper. The cleaver. Legends on their own, deservedly so.
He nods at me once, galaxies filled with promises swirling in those eyes, a look that says more than words, then leans toward Tass, murmurs something too low for me to catch. And just like that, he turns, lets himself get hauled away by Noura’s Watchers, hands in the air, smoke still curling from one of them.
As he passes Joyeus, he doesn’t even glance her way. Just flips her the middle finger over his shoulder. She nearly chokes on her own seethe, lips parting in outrage.
I swallow hard, my grip white-knuckled on the blades. “Without his weapons…”
Tass snorts, leans back against the counter like it’s all routine as she twirls the gun around her finger, which for her it probablyis. “Without them he’ll still be fine. Don’t worry about that. Maxisa weapon. He doesn’t need his precious babies. And besides, they’ll still give him something to defend himself with. We do havesomerules.”
Her grin fades, just for a second, as the double doors shut behind him. The bar hums back to life like nothing happened, but my chest stays hollow, echoing.
Because I know where he’s headed.
The Pit.
Chapter eight
Kieran
I’veneverbeentoan actual Pit fight before, but living in this poor excuse of a world after society went to shit, you’re bound to see some fucked-up things. Even with my mom keeping me shut away in our apartment most of the time, I still saw enough to learn the nature of men… and it’s not always pretty.
I’m not a queasy guy. I can handle gore, blood. Hell, I wouldn’t be patching up my colleagues if I couldn’t stomach it. But this? This is something else entirely.
The crowd roars, stamping and howling like the animals they are, and I can only fucking stare wide-eyed as the Walker that was chewing on the chest of a man just seconds ago gets yanked back behind the gate by four Watchers in full protective gear. The man’s body is still twitching, chest spasming like it’s trying to keep a grip on life, but the light’s already gone. His final breath rattles out, eaten by the noise of the crowd as he stills.
A real human being. Gone. And for what? Some stupid crime? I think he was stealing food, skimming coin. Whatever it was… I don’t think that’s worth dying for. But apparently, that’s the Pit and the life on Ibitha.
“What a loser. I mean, shit, he only hadoneWalker. That’s hardly a fucking challenge,” Tass supplies helpfully, munching on some strawberries she must’ve bartered for. Her legs kicked out, ankles crossed on the ledge, lounging like this is her idea of a relaxing night out.
Sami’s on her other side, leaned forward with his elbows on the stone, face resting in his hands. His expression is somewhere between bored and tired, brown eyes hooded, like he’s seen this exact shit too many times to count.
We’re in the front row, left of the council. Tass said they’re always seated here every fight night, which happens once a month. A neat little schedule for blood and spectacle.
That’s why they locked Max away for six days—waiting for his turn. Waiting for judgment.
Six nerve-wrecking days of half-assed research, unanswered questions, and nights without him. I slept like shit, knowing he wasn’t there watching over me. Maybe it’s pathetic… but I don’t really care anymore.
At least we’re finally here, in the old amphitheater carved into the cliffs, just before sunset. The heat of the day still clings to the stone, radiating up through the seats. Half of them are jagged rock ledges, the rest a scatter of cracked plastic chairs boltedin at odd angles. The sky above is bruising purple, shadows stretching long across the Pit, but the air is still heavy, warm, thick enough to choke on.
Every inch of me has been itching to go to him all week, but Tass said they wouldn’t let me enter. Shit, he’d probably just laugh in my face if I’d tried. That harsh, unhinged cackle of his. The one that rattles through my ribs like it shouldn’t feel good, but somehow does.
I asked Tass once what he whispered before they dragged him away. She said he told them to stick with me because he didn’t trust those guys that stirred trouble. To make sure I wasn’t alone. And they did. One or the other crashed in my room every night that week, like it was nothing. Like Max had ordered it, and they’d obeyed without question.
I know he’s their leader, but it’s still eerie… watching the way they fall in line. Not just out of respect, it’s something deeper. An unshakable kind of loyalty. The kind you can’t buy, can’t fake.
