Page 37 of Obliterated
Then Max twirls the spear once, twice, slow and deliberate, testing it in his hand.
Tass groans, dragging her hands down her face. “Oh, please tell me he isn’t going to do it.”
“He is,” Sami mutters, voice flat with certainty. “Heisgoing to do it.”
My eyes go wide, breath choking in my throat, as Max plants his feet and lets out a guttural shout when he hurls the spear.
Straight at the council.
Chaos explodes. They duck, red cloaks flaring, screams echoing, the crowd going wild, half in terror, half in awe. Coins fly into the air, the roar of voices deafening.
Only one man doesn’t move. Commander Roe stays seated, head thrown back as he laughs, the sound lost in the pandemonium.
The spear slams into the dais with a violent crack, burying itself dead center in the wood right beneath Noura’s chair. Splinters spray down in the arena.
She shoots to her feet, face red, eyes blazing, seething like she could combust on the spot.
And then… dead silence. The entire arena holds its breath.
Max just tilts his head, expression all faux innocence, smirk curling sharp. “Apologies, Magistrate El-Amin. It slipped out of my hand.”
Noura’s composure cracks. Her voice rips through the Pit, shrill and unhinged, echoing off the stone: “The fight was over. That was a direct defiance against the magistrate, againstme. Bring in more! Ten more! Feed him until he chokes on his own arrogance!”
The crowd gasps, then roars, chaos swelling like a storm about to break.
Oh fuck no. No, no, no. Not more. Not ten more while he’s already exhausted. He might not show it, but I can see the drag in his shoulders, the hitch in his breath. It’ll be the end of him.
Not now. Not yet.
But Max just lifts a finger. A single, lazy shake of his head, like he’s telling the magistrate herself to sit down and shut up. And the fucked-up part? She does. The whole crowd does.
“The fight isn’t over,” he shouts, voice ringing through the arena. “Collateral damage still counts. It’s allowed.”
“The fightisover,” Noura spits, sounding venomous.
“It isn’t.” His voice carries without effort, cutting clean through the uproar. He gestures toward the arena floor, to the last pitiful Walker dragging itself forward on shredded limbs. Hardly anything left of it, just a twitching carcass with teeth.
Max saunters toward it. No limp, no flinch. Just slow, deliberate steps that make my stomach knot tighter with every one. He raises his boot—then drives it down, skull caving in with a sickening crunch.
“There,” Max announces, standing tall, blood dripping from his boot as he turns toward the council. “Now it’s over.”
Silence cracks—then shatters.
The audienceerupts. Absolutely fucking delirious. Stomping, screaming, chanting his name until the stone itself rattles beneath us.
Max. Max. Max.
That fucker spreads his arms wide, chest bare, grinning like a mad god standing in the wreckage of his altar.
And I can only stare, breath caught in my throat.
He’s absolutely terrifying.
He’s everything I should fear
And he’s everything I can’t stop wanting.
Chapter nine
