Chapter 49 #3
Blaze and Lili fought at his back, covering flanks, driving hard. There were too many to kill one by one, so he didn’t try. He wounded, disarmed, kicked, and shoved.
Soon, they were joined by Selene and Oskar. And then they were like a wave gaining force, gathering as they went. Roman and his warriors. Omar and Eliza. Felix and Pavle. Hector and Victoria. Luc, Roslyn, and Xavier. Leda and Kelly.
And so many more. They were an unbreakable wall of fury with one goal and enough strength left for one man.
Thorne.
And there he was.
The man who tried to steal his future. Who ripped Selene from her home. Who took Mettius’s leg. Who whispered lies and poison through every port in the world for the last seventeen years.
Augustus shoved past the last man in his path, chest heaving.
Thorne stood alone in what must have been Olish’s town square, blood dripping from his blade.
Half the surrounding buildings were on fire. Ash swirled in the air like snowfall, and smoke coiled around his legs.
Selene stopped at Augustus’s side, wiping her bloodied mouth, knives sheathed.
Augustus gave her hand a squeeze before focusing fully on his enemy.
“I have to admit,” Thorne began, finger-combing his hair away from his forehead, “I didn’t think you’d fight this hard.”
“Aren’t you the ‘know thy enemy’ guy?” Augustus asked. He motioned to the men and women behind him. “You understand what a family is—maybe better than anyone. Isn’t that why we’re here? Granted, you’re actually insane…”
Wingbeats flapped through the air moments before a familiar weight alighted on Augustus’s shoulder. Little Gus’s neck curled forward, and a growl ripped past his throat. His tail hugged behind Augustus’s neck to the other side.
Thorne’s gaze flicked from Gus to Turos, who was now perched on Selene’s shoulder. Unlike Gus, Turos’s mouth glowed with building fire.
Selene scratched beneath Turos’s chin. “Tell your people to back off.”
Thorne hesitated.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “Your Vorash is no longer with us.”
The pirate captain blinked—the only sign of his shock.
“And this one,” she added with a chin nudge to Turos, “isn’t adverse to burning men alive.”
Thorne relaxed enough to motion to his remaining men. They retreated, though it was staggering and slow. White knuckled.
Thorne focused on Augustus. “What’s it to be then? Will you sic your mob on me? Or do you have a shred of honor left to do it yourself?”
“That same honor you employed on the crew of the Akias?” Augustus asked.
Another voice came in from behind. “Or the Kaeilis.”
“Or the Thalos.”
Rage and grief renewed in Augustus’s chest. “I should let them tear you apart.”
Thorne raised his chin.
Augustus looked left. Selene met his gaze with cool patience.
If she had any advice, she didn’t give it.
A long time ago, she might have suggested a way forward without bloodshed.
That was before her kidnapping and her own brand of torture at his hands.
Before he ordered her execution and had Petrina beheaded.
However, that same woman ran other men through today, taking lives without pause. She hadn’t taken them all. But those she had, she hadn’t done it with any sense of delight.
Selene offered mercy wherever she could. Even in death.
Augustus inhaled and swept his attention back to Thorne. “You came for a Triarius. I’m the only one here by that name, and I offer you a merciful death.”
Thorne’s hold on his sword tightened. “And if I kill you instead?”
He unleashed his smile. “Then good luck to you, mate.”
The crowd at his back bristled, ravenous for Thorne’s blood.
Thorne raised a brow at Selene. “Your dragons stay out of it.”
“They know this isn’t their fight,” she said. “Just make sure it stays that way.”
Augustus motioned for Little Gus to move, and the dronsian leapt into the air. He soared several feet, then banked until he came around to Blaze’s shoulder. The Ranger didn’t even look surprised.
Thorne swatted the blood from his blade, casting a splattered line of red across the stone and sand.
Slowly, the village center cleared.
Selene was the last to go. Eyes like fire-warmed chestnut and glinting sapphire stared into his. “Are you sure—”
“Don’t you dare finish that question, i psychi mou.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
“Be careful.”
“No I-love-you for me?”
She smirked, though her lips trembled. “Why? When I can just tell you later, apparently.”
Any witty reply he might have said in response never entered his mind. “Say it anyway. Just in case.”
Selene’s lips parted. She swallowed hard, then squeezed his hand. “I love you.”
Her retreating steps were slow. Heavy. And she held his gaze until the last possible second.
Thorne attacked as soon as she was clear.
The first clash of steel shattered the stillness like glass. Gasps echoed. Then the crowd roared, a tidal wave of sound urging them on.
Augustus’s bones vibrated upon every strike, and his body responded with warnings of his exhaustion.
Thorne’s attack never slowed. Every impact struck with wild and punishing demand for blood. Any style or elegance he might have once possessed was lost behind blind vengeance. The man embraced every loss that brought him to this day and let it flood him.
Augustus gave ground, let Thorne chase him across several feet, reading every shift of foot, every dip of shoulder, or grit of teeth. Learning where his body might betray him.
Thorne’s blade scraped Augustus’s shoulder.
Augustus twisted away, parried, and lunged. Their swords locked at the hilt. Faces inches apart.
Sweat beaded and rolled down Thorne’s nose. “You’re not strong enough to outlast me.”
“I don’t need to be.”
Augustus headbutted him.
Thorne staggered back, blood pouring from his nose.
Augustus reached for the last of his strength and attacked. Pushing Thorne’s retreat.
He moved like Cassia taught him. Like Mettius shaped him.
He moved like a Triarius.
Augustus gave everything he had until the very last possible moment. Until the strength left him, and his body collapsed beneath him, taking him to a knee.
Thorne disarmed him with a brutal twist and sent his sword spinning in the dirt at Selene’s feet.
Her eyes widened. She palmed her knives. One step scraped across sand and stone.
Oskar’s fingers closed around her elbow, and he whispered in her ear. Whatever he said caused a single tear to fall from her blue eye. Her chin dipped with a single nod.
Thorne pressed his blade to Augustus’s throat.
Augustus didn’t dare look anywhere else. He held that stare with bated breath.
“Anything to say?” Thorne asked.
“Only one.”
Thorne’s mouth twitched. “All right. Go ahead.”
Augustus didn’t answer right away. He just shifted his gaze over Thorne’s shoulder—
To the person waiting there.
A blink. A nod. An unspoken promise.
An understanding between the best of friends.
“He’s all yours, Lili.”
Lili flipped her axe and shifted her attention to the man who took her father’s head.
Thorne spun.
Lili didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.
She raised her axe.
And brought it down.