Page 180 of The Gods Order

“Something isn’t right,” he murmurs, then spins around, pointing a finger at the Dark God who entered the room first. “Fetch Seveous. He needs to come here. The God of Obliteration needs to come home.”

The soldier spins to obey and my blood turns to ice.

Home. Fuck. We can’t let that happen.

Creed’s eyes meet mine across the room.

One look is all it takes.

If the God of Pain arrives…

If Kira returns…

This mission ends here. We stay trapped here.

Creed gives the smallest nod.

My grip on the real Binding tightens in one hand while the other rightens my hold on my weapon.

My lungs empty and…

I shove my sword through Kelshin’s back at an angle and twist.

Gurgles come from the back of his throat and numbness spreads through my veins. I snatch my weapon free, watching his blood spray across the stone floor. It should be stark red.

It’s pitch-black.

As he hits his knees, my gaze lands over his head. Creed withdraws his sword from the heart of the god Kelshin ordered to get Seveous. For a breathtaking, terrifying second, silence reigns through the chamber.

Kelshin’s body slumps sideways. His lifeless eyes stare across the room as thick black blood pools beneath him.

No one moves. No one breathes. The Dark Gods simply stare. Their gazes dart from Kelshin’s corpse to the other fallen god, then sweep wildly across the empty room.

“What…”

The whispered word barely reaches my ears.

“Where did they—”

“Someone’s still here!”

An Oblirian lunges toward the place the Dark God had fallen, swinging his blade through empty air.

“No one is here,” another shouts.

“They are.” A massive Dark God shoves his way through the crowd. There isn’t a trace of uncertainty or fear on his face or in his voice. “Find them.”

Find us. As if it were that easy.

Slowly but surely, everyone has been moving into position.

Iric, Doren, Nero, and Vullie have formed a line of protection in front of Yemi and me. We brace and hold our power in place as my men, Sevryn, Mara, Gladian, Barir, and Prath spread across the room, surrounding the small army.

“Now.”

Kyzen moves the moment the word leaves Amick’s lips.

He slips through their fractured line like time given form. One sword slices across a throat while the other drives beneath a breastplate. Before either body hits the floor, Creed is there, catching a third beneath the jaw with enough force to snap his head back before finishing him with a clean thrust through the chest.