Page 150 of Decadence

But this was the new universe, and although he had won the right to carry out his blood-revenge on Rexu, Ikriss had thought long and hard about it since coming back from the dead. Revenge was as innate to Kordolians as breathing, but perhaps Rexu was worth more to them alive.

The guard at the entrance gave Ikriss a respectful nod as he passed through the secure Qualum doors.

Into perfect darkness.

There was not a single ray of background light in this place. Even with his sensitive dark-sight, Ikriss found it a little difficult to see. He came to a row of five secure cells. All of them were open, except for the very last one.

“Molgu,” he said. Open.

The Qualum doors unravelled to reveal a figure sitting against the wall, staring straight ahead.

Sagarath Rexu made no effort to move. He didn’t say a word. His once arrogant sneer was gone, replaced with an expression that was utterly devoid of emotion.

The former Death Squad soldier had given up. After surviving an interrogation by Tarak himself, Rexu’s mind was broken.

He was just waiting for the Goddess to take him.

Ikriss’s desire for revenge waned. What would be the point of tearing Rexu apart now? There was no honor in destroying a man that was already weak and defenseless. It would be too easy.

So he forced himself to ignore the dark instinct that threatened to consume him, because there were more important things that needed to be done.

I should tear you apart with my bare hands right here and now. I should make you feel the very same pain you so carelessly inflicted on my cherished mate, and I should multiply it a thousandfold. But she is stronger than you could ever have imagined, and you are nothing more than a bad memory to her.

His mate’s strength and determination gave him life. It purged his darkness.

He dropped to a crouch in front of his enemy and stared into Rexu’s flat crimson eyes.

“The General has left your fate in my hands, and I have decided that you’re not worth killing.”

The Kordolian let out a soft grunt of surprise. In his world, such an admission could be seen as weakness.

Ikriss knew that very well.

In fact, he was counting on it.

“I know that you serve the eldest son of the Imperial Line,” he said softly. This self-styled Amun was more than likely an impostor—Xalikian’s brother had been declared dead many revolutions ago—but Ikriss carefully hid his skepticism.

Rexu’s eyes widened in surprise. “Emperor Amun,” he said reverently. “How did you know?”

Ikriss carefully concealed his disgust. He fought to keep the icy rage out of his voice. “That is not important now. Listen very carefully, Sagarath Rexu, because I am not going to speak to you again. You are being granted a reprieve from death. What you do with it is your decision alone.”

A glimmer of hope entered the Kordolian’s eyes as they widened even more. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ikriss was already rising to his feet.

The prisoner didn’t attempt to attack or follow him. He was too confused.

Good.

Without saying another word, Ikriss turned on his heel and left, and the Qualum fibers fused together behind him, sealing Rexu inside that small, lightless space.

Outside the cell, Ikriss rubbed his eyes and forehead and took a deep breath. His claws were out. The urge to kill was so powerful that he actually trembled.

In the past, he would have eliminated Rexu without a second thought, but now he was going to give his blood-revenge to another.

See, now Jeral had staked a claim on the bastard too.

And Ikriss was going to let a confused, disorientated Rexu loose on Zarhab Groht, and he would send Jeral of the First Division to hunt him from afar.

To follow him.

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