The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

There is no banter. No last words. Ninnis is a hunter and he strikes like one.

Without hesitation.

Without mercy.

And with perfect aim.

He leaps into the air, raising the bow above his head, and with a battle cry that turns my stomach sour, plunges the bow into Tobias’s chest. Tobias’s body twitches under the impact. Ninnis twists the blade, and the body lies still.

Tobias is dead.

Revulsion helps me find my voice. “No!” I scream.

But there isn’t time to mourn Tobias’s death. Kainda stalks toward Em where she lies, motionless on the ground. She raises the hammer—a weapon strong enough to crack cresty skulls and shake the very ground. Issuing her own war cry, she brings the weapon down. A loud crunch brings a sob from my mouth.

Kainda picks up Em’s limp body and tosses her hard. Her body skids across the area floor and stops fifty feet away. Motionless.

My surrogate family is dead.

And kidnapped.

And I can’t even avenge their deaths.

But I have to try.

I bend down, head swirling, and pick up Whipsnap.

As Ninnis walks toward me, I hold the weapon between us. But my shaking hands make the defensive posture just look pitiful.

Kainda remains still, watching with crossed arms and downturned lips.

“I saved you,” I say to her. Her frown deepens, but I’m not sure if it’s from guilt or shame at needing to be saved.

I face Ninnis. He’s just ten feet away. “I saved both of you.”

He stops just out of Whipsnap’s reach. “Your life is a series of mistakes, Solomon.”

When he says my name again, I realize I have an opening to put a wedge between these two. “You’ve told her then? That you failed to break me? And that your failure resulted in Ull’s death?”

I see surprise register on Kainda’s face. I turn to her. “I killed Ull. Your father covered it up.”

Ninnis bares his teeth and a growl enters his voice. “Kainda and I have both failed when it comes to you,” Ninnis says. “It is a shame we bear together. And it is a shame we will correct together.”

“You cannot break me again,” I say. I’m not sure if it’s true, but I need him to believe it.

To my surprise, he nods, but then says, “I do not need to break you again. I simply need you to give yourself—willingly—to the spirit of Nephil.”

“Never,” I say.

“Then the boy will be killed.”

My stomach tightens. Luca is alive.

“I will give you seven days to reach the gates of Tartarus. You will come, as Ull.”

“I’m not Ull,” I say.

“Then you must be convincing,” he says. “You will give yourself to Nephil. He will break you himself. And the boy will be spared.” He grins wide, showing his rotting teeth. “You see? I am not without mercy!”

Filled with rage, I lunge, stabbing Whipsnap toward his chest. But my former trainer is fast. He dodges to the side, and in the time it takes me to blink, there is a sword in his hand. Before I have time to contemplate where it came from, he strikes Whipsnap with the flat side of the blade. The tip of the sword wraps around Whipsnap. With a tug, he pulls my weapon from my hands and flings it away.

He holds the sword out toward me. Its blade is once again straight and razor sharp. “Meet Strike,” he says. “A gift from Enki. And if you do not reach the gates of Tartarus within seven days, Strike will be the source of little Luca’s prolonged and agonizing death.”

Ninnis becomes a blur. I see a flash as Strike coils itself down to the hilt, which then strikes my head. I fall to the ice, staring up at the blue sky above. Ninnis stands over me and says. “Seven days.”

Then he’s gone. I can hear his feet on the snow, walking away. Kainda’s too. Neither of them speaks. They’re just leaving me here, with my dead friends, and a demand I have no choice but to grant. I don’t believe Ninnis will spare Luca, but I can’t leave the boy. I can’t let him be killed. My head lolls to the side and I see Kainda at the top of the arena wall.

She glances back at me, meets my eyes, and shakes her head.

Then she’s gone, along with Ninnis, and Luca.

I picture the boy in the darkness of the underworld, surrounded by killers and monsters and remember what I was like as a six year old. The experience might very well break him.

I shout and try to rise. If I could only regain my strength I might be able to stop them before they disappear into the depths. But my body doesn’t respond. I can’t move. I can’t fight.

I can’t win, I think, so I do the only thing I can do.

I weep.





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