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Jenny and I hadn’t been friends, but I understood her. She’d made a huge step in getting here, and sacrificed it all in the end. Rage boiled up inside me, hot and familiar. I tried to call on my dragon self, but the wards held firm.
“You son of a frog,” Zee snarled beside me, purple light pulsing from his wings. His eyes locked onto Syros with murderous intent. “Let’s see how you handle death by orgasm!”
He snapped his fingers, the sound cracking across the yard.
Nothing happened.
Zee’s confident expression faltered. He snapped again, then again, each motion growing more frantic.
“Performance issues?” Syros taunted.
Zee’s wings dimmed slightly. “The fuck? I should be juiced for days . . .”
“The wards . . . It’s worn off fast,” I realized aloud.
“Well, fuck,” Zee muttered, then rippled his clawed fingers and raised his fists. “Guess we do this the demon way.”
He launched at Syros, catching my brother off guard. Zee landed a solid punch to Syros’s jaw, followed by a knee to his stomach. Syros doubled over, more in surprise than pain.
“How’s that feel, lizard balls?” Zee taunted, dancing back. “You want some more demon coming at you?”
Syros straightened slowly, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. His eyes had changed, pupils narrowed to vertical, reptilian slits. “Tickles.” Syros attacked with predatory focus, each strike calculated and devastating. Zee fought back with everything he had, his movements a blur of purple light and fury, sparks flying, wings flapping, but without his enhanced powers, and unarmed, I already knew how this ended.
I stepped in. “Syros—”
A vicious uppercut caught Zee under the chin, snapping his head back. He staggered, wings flaring weakly. Before he could recover, Syros delivered a crushing blow to his stomach, followed by a kick that sent Zee tumbling across the dusty ground.
“No!” I rushed to his side as he struggled to rise, blood soaking the jagged slash marks through his orange suit.
“I’m good,” he gasped, but his legs gave out as he tried to stand. “Just . . . just give me a second.”
Syros laughed, backing toward the hole in the fence. “Is this really all you’ve got? The great Heroes of the City? I’ve scraped more heroic things off my shoes.”
I dropped onto the dirt next to Zee and helped him to sit up. He breathed hard, ragged, and his wings had dulled.
“Go,” Zee rasped, gripping my arm. “Don’t let him get away.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I’m just winded. I’ll be right behind you, Kitten.” He coughed, then managed a pained smile.
I squeezed his hand. “Promise?”
“On my name . . . Lycian, Scourge of Demios, God of Fucking, Best Demon Ever.”
Standing, I turned to face my brother, but he was already slipping through the hole in the fence. Our eyes met for a brief moment—his triumphant, smug, satisfied. A growl simmered inside me.
“Come and get me, little brother,” he challenged, then stumbled from the fence and staggered a few feet into the starlit barren background of the Nevada desert.
I looked back at Zee one last time. He nodded weakly, his tail flicking in what might have been encouragement.
“Go be a badass,” he whispered.
I sprinted across the yard. The sirens still wailed inside the prison, but out here, with the stars overhead and the fence breached, a different kind of alarm sounded in my head.
Syros was free.
And I was alone. I’d wanted it this way, to face him one-on-one, to relive the past and make it right. But now it was happening, I missed Zee and Victor at my side. I was going to need them . . .
