Page 120 of The Alpha’s Heir

“You know what the price is, soldier?” Mars asked.

No, I did not, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could take on a god. Pitting them against each other, though? That I could get behind.

This wasn’t my fight.

I nodded anyway.

“One day, I will call upon you for a favor,” Mars said; his voice, like Ares’s voice, carried the haunting depth of a battle command.

I refused to cower under it. “I accept your terms, as long as they don’t require me to take on the role of champion for you, or another god. One favor, that doesn’t harm anyone I love—mentally or physically—in exchange for your protection from Ares.”

“Someone knows their history.” Mars’s smile was not a kind one. “It’s a pity, though. You would’ve made a great champion.”

Mars turned at the last second, meeting Ares’s sword with a clash of godly steel.

I’m sure I was missing something in the terms of the arrangement. Gods always found loopholes. But I was working with what I had, and most of it was vague memories of bedtime stories, so I took what I could get.

I had no idea what this champion bit would entail, but if it was anything like my current position, I wanted nothing to do with it.

I was done with military contracts.

If I fought, it’d be on my own terms. That was still who I was. But a warrior who lives is one who knows when to fight or when to save it for another day.

“He’s mine!” Ares roared, parrying Mars’s powerful swing as he shoved him backwards.

I’m not ashamed to say that I ran like a bitch.

The room shifted and changed as I felt along the walls for an escape. The gods sliced each other behind me. An exit sign—cold and lifeless—appeared in the corner of the room.

My shoulder slammed against the door as I threw it open. Something laced around my ankle and dragged me backwards.

I hit the floor, rolling, and attacked the… shadow… it was a shadow. The wisps snaked around my leg, traveling up my arm. I pulled the knife from my belt, trying to cut it off to no avail.

The gods were still locked in a death dance, but the shadows reached out in every direction, more heading towards me.

And I pictured my father, sitting under the blanket with the light on his face and laughing as he told me a ghost story.

I fumbled with my utility belt, pulling out the flashlight. The beam made the shadows hiss and curl away as if they’d been burned.

I scrambled to my feet and took off running.

The flashlight beam bounced off the walls as I searched the long hall, finding the unlit exit sign above the utility stairwell.

There was a second where I caught my breath, wondering just how high up I was and how many floors I’d need to climb down.

The clashing of metal and roars of gods of war grew louder as those cursed shadows raced into the hall after me.

I threw myself into the stairwell with seconds to spare, shining through the glass on the heavy metal door when it slammed shut.

The shadows stopped.

I took a step backwards, still holding the flashlight.

And then I took another.

Twenty-four floors, if the sign above the door was correct. That was a lot of stairs.

Could I turn and outrun the shadows?