“The only thing I hate is what this will do to you and having to leave my people. But I know they will be in good hands. You are a natural-born leader, Brexley.” His eyes pierced mine as if he was trying to convey more. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I love you so much. But please know you are doing me a favor. I want this. I’m not meant for this world anymore.” He tucked hair behind my ear. “All I can hope is I did enough with my time here, made enough difference. Now, it’s for you to finish it.”
“You can’t do this to me,” I howled. My fingers balled into his shirt. “You have to stay. I can’t do this without you.”
“You can, and you must.” He bowed his head. “I hate all this falls on you, but it does. You are strong, caring, smart, and resilient. You are so similar to your father. He would be incredibly proud of you, Brexley, of the person you have become.” Andris croaked out, tears sliding down his cheek. “And so am I. You have so many who love you and will fight by your side. I couldn’t be prouder or love you any more if you were my own.”
“Please...” My shoulders sagged, heavily under the weight of my grief.
“I never thought one day I would be in love with a fae and leading a rebel army. Sometimes the cause chooses us.” He kissed my forehead before leaning back. “I do not regret a moment of my life. It all led me to what I was supposed to do. Finding my soulmate, my fight. And it eventually brought you back to me.”
The boos and hisses were growing louder around us. Clanks from the gates tore my attention to the sentries stomping out, ready to pull us apart.
Panic flew up my throat. “Nagybacsi.” I cried as Joska ripped me away from my uncle while Samu grabbed Andris, hauling us closer to the fire.
“Istvan! Don’t do this!” Andris tried to thrash against Samu, his petrified glance jumping from Markos to me. “Don’t you have any soul left? You’ve known her since she was a baby.”
“And she betrayed me.” Istvan pointed at me in fury and disgust. “As you did. As her father did.”
What? I craned my neck to look at Istvan. What was he talking about?
“You don’t want to kill her, Istvan, I promise you.” Andris shook his head wildly, glancing from me back to him, his tongue sliding over his lip. “She’s special.”
My limbs froze, my eyes widening as our gazes met again. I could feel it; Andris was going to tell him about me in hopes of saving my life.
If Istvan found out what I was, what power I contained, the entire game would be over. No one and nothing would survive.
I shook my head. “No.” My shadow whispered to him.
“I’m sorry.” His shade stood next to me. “I have to. I won’t let you die.” He cut the link, his attention going back to Markos. “You don’t realize what she—”
“You’re a worthless piece of shit, Istvan,” I screamed, flailing against Joska, creating commotion to override whatever Andris was going to say. “You are a coward! A pathetic, weak man who can only get power by killing, cheating, or bribing people.”
I knew how to strike his ego, knocking Andris’s words into the air.
It worked too well.
“Enough!” Istvan yelled, ire streaking his cheeks. “Burn them both! Him first!” He ordered our guards.
“No!” I screamed, watching Joska tug Andris closer to the roaring flames. “Istvan, please!”
“I gave you your option, Brexley. You chose to not use it.”
My insides drowned in acid and bile, my attention darting back to Andris and the stoic way he held his chin as they carried him toward the trench and flames.
Death came in many ways. Some so quick your brain didn’t even register pain before you died. Most laid somewhere in the middle, where you suffered for a moment, but peace took you fairly quick. Then there was the slow, excruciating way, where torment ground through you so deep and piercing it would mark the earth forever, echoing your screams and pain for lifetimes to come.
Being burned alive was the latter.
My brain began to shut down again, reducing me to my most feral instincts.
I could feel Warwick’s roar through the stadium, his energy eclipsing the chants and pitch of the crowd. I could sense him trying to get to me.
A phantom whisked in my peripheral, biting into my bones.
“Use me, Kovacs!”
I didn’t think or question, my mind was primitive, zeroing in on one thing.
I let him in. Latching on like a leech, I pulled all of Warwick’s energy into me. It wasn’t even a quarter of what I got at the train station, but it was enough.
Slamming back into Joska, I jostled him and took him off balance, giving me a chance to lurch forward, twisting out of his hold. With a grunt, my arm swung out in a right hook, smashing into his throat. Choking and gasping, he fell back, clawing at his neck.
Whirling around, I sprinted for Samu, using the vigor Warwick pumped into my muscles. I dove into Samu, taking him to the ground, punching and kicking resembling a frenzied beast, as if killing him would release serenity through me like an endorphin.
Is this what Warwick meant when he said, “nothing but killing made me feel anything.”
“Kovacs!” Joska’s strangled voice hacked through the air, the memorable cock of a gun whipped my head around.
Joska stood next to Andris, his gun pressed to his temple.
“Get off Samu. Now.” His eyes were wild, his stance reminding me more of a gorilla than a man.
My lip curled, slowly rising to my feet, my eyes on them. I could hear Samu choking and sputtering in his own blood. Unfortunately, I was sure he’d live, especially since he was on those new pills Istvan created.
“There’s no way out of this.” Joska seemed to struggle to form and speak his words. He pushed Andris closer to the fire. “You both are finally getting what you deserve.”
It was only a second. A single moment. A smirk.
Joska shoved him into the ditch of flames, my uncle’s clothes instantly ablaze. Andris’s guttural screams shredded through every tiny molecule, ripping, tearing, and demolishing my heart and soul. He fought to climb out; the agony of his torture howled through me.
My legs moved without thought, the need to save him overtaking any logic.
Joska jumped out in front of me, stopping me.
I heard a crackle of lightning in the distance, matching my roar of fury. My instinct was to attack anything between me and the person I loved, like a mama bear. Yanking what was left of Warwick’s energy, I went for Joska. As he swung to me, I ducked under his arm, popping up, my knuckles striking his temple with such force. He stumbled to the side, his head dipping while my knee slammed up into his nose with a crack. Joska crashed into the dirt with a groan, blood leaking down his face.
Zipping past, I ran for my uncle, stopping short in a horrified gasp.
He had crawled out, but I no longer recognized the body lumped on the ground. His skin bubbled, oozed, and blackened, reminding me of what Warwick looked like on the battlefield the night I saved him.
“Nagybacsi!” I collapsed down next to him, sobs racking up my spine and back down again. The smell of burnt flesh making me dry heave.
He wheezed for air, his lids barely open.
“You will be okay. You can heal.” I rocked next to him, no longer understanding what I was saying.
A louder wheeze came from him, and I realized he was trying to speak.
“What?” I leaned in closer.
“Please...” He gasped. “I beg you.”
A sob broke free when I realized he was begging me to kill him. “I can’t.”
His body was violently shaking, and I knew he was in so much agony. “Please,” his shade whispered next to me in agony. “Do it.”
I peered back at the gun on the ground next to Joska, who was starting to regain consciousness. Swiping it up, I held the cool metal in my hand.
My head bowed as a cascade of tears trailed down my face, landing on my uncle’s.
His disfigured and crisp hand reached up, touching my face. “Let me go. I need to be with her.”
Hiccupping through my wails, I rose, my legs wobbling violently. My arms trembled as I lifted the gun.
Andris’s eyes looked into mine, a plea…for me to end his suffering. “I love you, drágám. Never forget that,” he said through our link.
“I love you too. So much.” The words barely made it out, cracking and breaking my heart.
Bang!
The bullet went right between his eyes, killing him instantly.
The gun dropped from my hands. A wretched cry tore from my chest, my shoulders sagging as I took in my uncle’s dead, burnt face. I could see serenity in his expression, a slight smile on his lips as if he were finally at peace.
I was the opposite. Beyond any hell I could ever imagine. The grief was so acute, so excruciating, my brain could no longer compute anything else. His death wasn’t just emotionally painful, but I could actually feel the bond we shared rip out of me, death’s scythe cutting the connection.
I had just killed my uncle. Even if I was ending his pain and suffering, it didn’t take away the notion his blood would forever stain my soul.
Whatever will I had left vanished from my body. Everything drained from me in a wave of grief. Curling into the dirt, a wrenched wail howled from me like a tempest.
Until I heard clapping behind me, I hadn’t realized the arena had been silent.