Assaulted me.
Kidnapped me.
He’ll pay with his life.
“Thea, no,” Zaid tries again, grabbing my arm. “You can’t use your dagger on him. Fuck, you know you can’t. Sweetheart, stop.”
Everett, Rafe, and Krystian have Ares contained, but I have no idea how long that’ll last. Ares is a god, and even three of the most powerful supernaturals are no match for him.
It’s now or never.
I don’t look back at Zaid as I move towards a prone Ares, still lying on his back.
“Thea,” Krystian exclaims, alarmed.
“No!” Everett barks.
I lunge at the God of War.
Ares gasps beneath me, the tip of my dagger hovering just above his heart. He’s bleeding from half a dozen wounds—Krystian’s flesh-eating arrows, Rafe’s blood-forged spikes, Everett’s monstrous mauling, and Zaid’s claws—but it’s me he looks at now.
Good.
I want him to see the end coming from the person he thought was the weakest.
“Winnifred… Thea…” he whispers, blood drizzling from his parted lips.
Behind me, my guys seem to be holding their breaths, terrified of making any sudden movements.
“You don’t get to say my name. Either of them,” I whisper, pressing the blade deeper.
Not a killing blow, though. Not yet.
He spits out blood, laughing weakly. “You think you’ve won?”
A feral grin unfurls on my lips. “No. This isn’t a win. This is justice.”
The dagger burns hot in my hand—hotter than ever before, as if it can sense the enormity of the god’s power ripe for the taking. The hilt hums against my skin, channeling something cold and righteous inside of me. The earth beneath us shakes, and the sky above turns still.
I apply a little more pressure, digging the blade in?—
Krystian grabs my wrist, his eyes wild. “Thea, no.”
I snap my head towards him, but he continues to beseech me with his gaze to listen.
“Who knows what the fuck killing him will do to you? Can the dagger handle that much power? Canyou? What about his soul? Will it consume you? Thea, please. Don’t. Please.” Tears beginto stream down his cheeks. “I love you, Thea. I love you. Please don’t do this.”
A tremble works its way through me.
One of Everett’s three heads swivels and pierces me with an unreadable look.
“Don’t,” he growls, his voice a booming baritone.
But if I don’t, then Ares is going to be set free. The guys don’t know how to kill him, and even if they did, they wouldn’t risk angering the gods.
I need to do this.
For them.
