Page 90 of Obliterated
Sure enough, the big stone bowl next to the cliffs looms up over the trees, its tiers rimmed with eager faces, looking through the holes and cracks at how we approach in a mad run. We dash out of the treeline to the flat rocky terrain, over the path to the back gate which is used for Walkers. It’s a black, waiting mouth, a rope ladder dangling from the floor above, where Sami and three other Watchers are waiting.
“He’s gaining on us!” I shout, and that ass—Max’s ass, glorious and infuriating—slows for a heartbeat. He turns his head, dark eyes wild, and for a second I almost run straight into him.
His eyes go wide as he looks past my shoulder, then he turns completely, shoves me forward to the Pit with brutal, quick strength. “Go, Kee. I’ll distract him.”
“Max,no!” I snap, because my stupid idea to come along for this was mine. I couldn’t let him do this alone. We’re armed to the teeth—Whisper, the cleaver, daggers—but guns and bullets are one thing; Chompy’s jaws are another. If we miss, if he misses… those jaws will close around him in a heartbeat, and a bullet won’t pry teeth from bone.
“I got this.” He pushes me again, and I know better than to argue. I know he’s quicker than me, stronger, a warrior at heart.
Not to mention, it’shisfucking horror-pet. The thing’s a damn zombie, but Max’s convinced he’s less inclined to eathimthan me.
Sure, buddy.
Deciding to trust my partner, my heart, I don’t waste another second and launch for the ladder. The cheers from the crowds rattle through the stone; it’s deafening, fucking insane. I don’t dare look back, not at the sound of snapping jaws, not at the sound of a swishing blade, not at the sound of—
Is he fucking laughing?
“Come on, Chomps!” I hear above the hollers, closer than I thought. “Just a little further, buddy!”
My hand finds the wood rungs, and I scramble up, breath burning. Before relief can even settle in, Sami and another Watcher clamp hands on my shoulders and haul. I’m up, pulled over the lip, and for a second all I can do is lie on my back, stare at the stone ceiling above me and gasp for air.
Max! I need to know Max is okay!
I twist in a hurry, heart thudding stupidly hard, and see him.
And he’s absolutely fuckinginsane.
He launches himself like a mad thing. Hands on the ledge directly above the gate, swinging his legs up with the core strength of a man who’s forgotten fear, of a man whose religion is exercising. Half-naked. Which is a show on it’s own.
Chompy bursts into the Pit in a spray of snapping and teeth, too late to stop.
“Now!” Sami roars, and the lever snaps. The gate rattles down with a brutal, grinding finality.
He’s locked up. Exactly where we wanted him to be.
Stupid fucking plan.
My breaths hitch; my heart claws at my ribs, but I take a couple of deep gulps of air to calm myself before I shuffle forward until I’m directly above him.
All I can do is stare down at Max, clinging to the stone above the gate like a damn spider.
“Hi there, pretty,” he calls up, grinning huge and filthy. I scoff, because what else do you do?
“We should do this again,” he adds, like it’s a date.
“Without Chompy, I assume?” I press my lips together, keeping the stupid smile in check, then flop flat on my belly with Sami to haul him the rest of the way over.
When he’s up, he lifts me like I weigh nothing, curls me into his arms, and kisses me like the world can wait—slow, claiming, his teeth nipping at my lips between lazy, hungry pulls. “Next time, it’s just you and me in the woods,” he murmurs against mymouth, the promise hot and low. “I’m the one chasing, and when I get my prize, I’m going to keep it.”
“Can’t wait,” I mumble, my face burning for more reasons than the run.
“Hey, lovebirds. Glad you survived this grand idea of yours and all, but hurry—the sentencing’s about to start,” Sami says as he climbs up.
We pull apart, fingers still tangled, and follow him through the stone corridors. People glance up from their seats as we pass. A few that watched our little spectacle and now walk back to their places nod as we move toward the front row where the Pit yawns black and terrible.
Roe is already on the dais, beret pulled low, and now the center of everything, acting as interim-magistrate. He nods when he spots us coming closer, like he’s been waiting.
As we cut across the tier, hands clap us on the back; someone hoots, another slaps my shoulder hard enough to sting. Ever since that fight a month ago, everyone seems to know who I am, and it's weird as fuck. Maybe it’s because Max claimed me in the middle of the Pit—publicly, loud, beautiful—or maybe the rumor mill had me pegged before that.
