Page 33 of Obliterated
“It’s so weird they just… go back to their regular life after this,” I mutter, voice thin, eyes locked on the Pit floor, still slick with blood, still wet from the last poor bastard who got ripped apart.
Sami snorts without looking at me, arms now entirely folded across the rail, head resting heavily on his forearms. “Only if you survive.”
Three went before Max, Two stumbled out alive, dragged half-dead but breathing under the roar of the crowd. The last one… he died screaming, torn open like paper while the masses howled like it was entertainment.
All of them had only one Walker.
Not Max. He’s going to have nine. And he’s last, for maximum effect. For impact. For blood.
My fists ball tight in my lap, nails biting half-moons into my palms, nerves sparking like live wires under my skin as thegate to the prison suddenly opens—rusted iron screaming louder than the crowd—and there he is.
My Max.
They shove him forward and he stumbles into the light.
My heart almost fucking implodes at the sight because Maxneverfucking stumbles.
“Oh, fuck.” My stomach bottoms out. Something’s wrong. His shirt’s gone, ribs a mess of purple and black bruises like someone took a hammer to him. One eye’s half-shut, swelling fast, his jaw stiff with pain.
Despite that, he smirks. Of course he does. He takes another step, another stagger, like defiance alone can hold him upright.
“Oh no, they didn’t.” Tass’s voice cuts sharply beside me, no trace of her lazy lounging now. She’s bolt upright, strawberries forgotten, eyes locked on him.
My heart falters, cold panic flooding my chest. “Did they…?”
“Torture him?” she snaps. “Weakened him so he’d lose?” Her fingers clamp the railing so hard her knuckles turn bone-white.
“That’s not fair,” I choke out, hating how weak I sound. “Are they even allowed to—”
“Of fucking course not. But it’s not like anyone will confess,” his best friend spits, her voice like steel. “This has Noura written all over it. Joyeus maybe.”
My gaze goes upward before I can stop it, snagging on the balcony above the Walker’s gate. She’s there. Magistrate El-Amin, wrapped in red like blood itself, eight companions at her side like she’s sitting on a throne. Her eyes glitter, her mouth curving into a smile just as Max hobbles into the center.
“How can the rest approve this?” My voice shakes. The answer’s already twisting my gut. “Isn’t this against the laws?”
“It is,” Tass says, venom dripping from every word. “For any changes in law or regulation, they need approval from all Nine.That’s why I know Max may use a weapon today. Roe would never vote against it.”
My eyes drift to the tawny-skinned man seated on Noura’s right. Big. Broad. His black beard trimmed close, eyebrows dragged together in a frown. A red beret sits heavy on his head instead of a cloak, the mark of his authority. Dark curls peek out under the edge.
Commander Roe. Head of the Military and Defense department. The man who runs the Watchers, who sends them where they’re needed. He’s staring down into the Pit with a storm behind his eyes, and he looks angry, furious even.
“And why wouldn’t he vote against her?” I ask as I focus on Tass again. “Doesn’t the entire council hate Max?”
“No. They don’t.” Her words are clipped. Then her sharp green eyes cut toward me, narrowing. “Wait. What? You don’t know? Max didn’t tell you?” She’s frowning at me like I’m the dumbest bastard on the island.
I blink. “What didn’t he tell me?”
She rubs her forehead like I’ve given her a headache, sighs to the skies, then mutters, “Dear Gods, help me. Why is he such a fucking tool?”
“Who? Max?”
“Yes.Max.” She waves a hand toward the Pit, toward him, sauntering forward, bruised and bloody and still smirking like a lunatic. “Mister dangerous and mysterious. What the hell do you two do all day besides stare at each other like lovesick idiots? Exchange some more meaningful looks? Play eye-fuck for hours on end?”
My cheeks heat instantly, fire crawling up my neck. “We talk,” I mutter, defensive as hell. “Sometimes.”
Tass barks out a laugh. “Then he should’ve told you. Roe isn’t just our commander. At least not for me and Max.”
My gaze jerks back to the man who somehow wormed his way into every corner of my head. Max. He’s rolling his shoulders now, neck cracking as he walks up before the dais, the arrogance and confidence oozing off him like he bleeds it. Even broken and bruised, he looks untouchable.
