I wanted him to be afraid. Wanted him to feel a fraction of the terror Merrilee must have felt.
I pulled back my fist, aiming for his face, ready to end this—to crush his skull and paint the floor with his blood—
Blaster fire.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space, impossibly loud.
Pain exploded through my side—white-hot and all-consuming, like someone had pressed a burning brand against my ribs.
I looked down and saw the burn mark spreading across my skin, the flesh charred and blackened, the smell of my own burning meat filling my nostrils.
Another shot.
This one caught me in the shoulder, the energy bolt tearing through muscle and tissue, spinning me sideways with its force.
I hit the ground hard, my vision blurring at the edges, darkness creeping in.
Hewes's guards surrounded me now, at least six of them forming a circle, their blasters trained on my body from multiple angles.
I tried to push myself up, tried to force my body to move, but my arms wouldn't cooperate. My body felt heavy. Wrong. Like it belonged to someone else.
Blood pooled beneath me—dark and spreading, soaking into my clothes and hair.
Hewes was on his feet now, cradling his broken wrist against his chest, his face twisted with rage and pain.
"Stupid," he spat, blood flecking his lips. "Stupid, arrogant bastard. Did you really think you could kill me? Here? In my own throne room, surrounded by my guards? What kind of fool—"
I couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. Each attempt to draw air sent fresh agony lancing through my chest.
"Shoot him again," Hewes said, his voice cold.
"Sir, if we kill him—" one of the guards protested. "He's valuable in the pit. The crowds love him. We can still use him—"
"I don't care!" Hewes's voice cracked, high and hysterical. "I don't care about the crowds or the profits or any of it! Shoot him!"
Another blast.
This one caught me in the chest, directly over my heart.
The world went white—pure, blinding brightness that consumed everything.
Then red—the color of blood and fire and dying.
Then nothing.
The darkness closed in like a tide, pulling me down into its depths.
And I let it take me.
My last thought was of Merrilee. Of her face. Of the promise I'd made.
Three days.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Chapter 16
