Page 73 of Bad Bunny
With his free hand, Rion reaches into his pocket and pulls out the amulet.
His eyes find mine.
“You should have been my son,” he rasps.
He drops the chain over Nora’s head. Even as she fights him, thrashing, twisting, the emerald falls against her chest, but my mate does not yield easily.
She rears back. Slams her elbow into his wounded side.
Rion howls and flings her away. She tumbles into the grass.
A low sound ripples through the clearing.
Veskar.
The great serpent rises from the flowers, taller now, gold eyes burning as they settle on Rion. “All who enter my garden answer to me.”
Rion laughs weakly. “Stay out of this, relic.”
Veskar’s tongue flicks once.
“You entered my domain,” the serpent replies. “You accepted my judgment.” His gaze stays fixed on Rion. “You are found wanting. Unworthy.”
The grass beneath Rion’s boots withers instantly, turning brittle.
I barely notice. I’m too busy staring at the line of blood that marks Nora’s neck like a leash. At the Amulet of Springtide that lies on her chest. Physical proof I have lost everything that matters. Something in me snaps. Splits open. All the restraint my father tried to teach me, all the mercy, the softness, burns away in an instant.
Rion touched Nora. He hurt her.
My bonded. My claimed. My love.
He made her bleed.
There is no world in which he survives that.
I will not simply kill him. I will tear him apart. Limb from limb.
If the cost is my soul, so be it.
If the cost is my kingdom, let it burn.
No creature breathes after touching what ismine.
A sound tears from my throat that does not belong to a civilized creature.
I charge at him. Rion brings his blade up to meet me, astonishingly fast despite the blood soaking his side, but his footing on the dry grass is unstable. Our swords clash once, twice, then I flick my wrist and redirect the force. His weapon flies from his grasp, spinning end over end before striking the vine-covered wall and falling to the ground.
He is unarmed.
He takes a step back, glancing behind him like he’s preparing to flee.
For the first time, my uncle looks afraid.
I do not hesitate.
The same instinct that felled the beast in this arena guides my hand now. Thornreaper slides beneath my uncle’s jaw and drives upward. There is resistance, flesh, bone, then a sickening release as the sword bursts from the crown of his skull.
Rion’s eyes widen.
