Page 87 of Havik: Warlord Brides
The tasks reordered themselves. Eliminate the reinforcements. Then drive a blade through Kaos’ black heart.
“Surrender. You cannot win now,” Kaos boasted.
Sand exploded. A large kumakre burst through, claws slashing all in its path. On its back…
Havik blinked because he was obviously hallucinating. Perhaps he was already bleeding out onto the sands. These last moments were nothing more than random firings of his neurons and synapses because that made more sense than what he saw.
Thalia rode the back of the kumakre, a fist held high as she let out a war cry. A cold wind blew her hair into every direction, the color of sand and green. She glowed in the moonlight, a vengefuldencadizthere to deliver justice at the point of a sword or fearsome beast.
The kumakre shrieked and reared back, deadly claws lashing out.
Kaos’ warriors scattered, diving for cover.
Thalia called his name, pulling him into the maelstrom. Something in her raised hand gleamed in the moonlight. She flung it toward him, and he caught the object. With a confident grin, she dove off the back of the kumakre, gracefully tumbling onto the sand.
The kumakre’s tail curled and flexed, displaying pale blue stripes.
“Stabs?”
Thalia
The paint was obviously worn and flaking, but she knew her Stabs in an instant. He was ginormous and seemed to understand this was not the time for a reunion. She did not have time to wonder at his rapid growth.
They burst through the sand to find Havik surrounded and weaponless. Fortunately, their entrance caused enough of a distraction that she flung the utility knife to Havik.
Kaos rushed her man. Havik lashed out with the utility knife, aiming for the unprotected swathes of skin: hands, neck, and face.
A red line bloomed across Kaos’ cheek. He roared, swinging the mace with force. Havik rolled to dodge but he moved too slowly and caught the blow on his shoulder.
Kaos stood over him, mace raised and ready to bludgeon his only son. “Beg,” he said.
Thalia knew in her core that Havik wouldn’t beg for mercy from a male who would murder his child for perceived insults to his reputation. She just needed him to live long enough for her to think of something. He needed a weapon, a proper one. Something stabby and shooty.
She scanned the crowd, hoping for a conveniently fallen body and gun. Stabs made progress through the minions, judging from the screaming. Blood splashed across the sand, black in the moonlight. She dashed to the closest body.
The man fell face-down on top of his rifle. Well, face-down if he still had a face. Stabs took off his head and he bled profusely.
Gross.
With both hands on the body’s side, she tried to roll him over, or at least shift him enough to retrieve the rifle. The fucker was heavy.
And sticky.
“You are a bad warlord and a terrible father and a worse male,” Havik said. “You should beg me.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Havik should not be antagonizing his dad. She just needed more time. Her back strained and her arms felt like jelly. She was so tired.
The body rocked. She succeeded in freeing half the rifle. Frustrated tears rolled down her face and she shouted, beating her hands against the impossibly heavy headless bastard.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t be what I needed,” Kaos said, bringing the mace down.
Thalia screamed. No. She just found Havik. She couldn’t lose him.
He picked her.
The universe owed it. It fucking owed her.
Stabs’ long stinger pierced Kaos from the back, directly through the heart. The mace fell harmless to the ground. The man gasped and twitched. His eyes went wide, as if he could not believe that such a thing would happen to him.
