Page 56 of The October Trials

She’s everything I wanted her to become.

Behind her, Dimitri is still thrashing against the guards, his chest split open and charred black at the edges. It’s a miracle he’s still moving.

But then again, my mother still fought like hell for hours after she was killed in this very room.

An idea sparks, and I snap my attention back to Blair. “Shoot him.” She looks my way, eyebrows creased. “Shoot him, and you win. Everyone else is already dead. You can walk out of here with the money and never look back.”

Lie.

“He won’t fucking die, don’t you see?” she shrieks, waving the gun around.

“I’m tired of this nonsense. Guards!“ my father roars. “Shoot her! Now!”

The second the order leaves his mouth, pure, blinding panic floods every vein, the kind that used to send me running from him as a kid. I don’t run anymore.

And like always, the anger comes following along right after.

My hand finds the blade strapped to my thigh, and in one fluid motion, without even a second thought, I draw it and hurl it across the room.

It buries itself inside Archon’s throat.

Still soaked with Blair’s blood.

He chokes on a cough, and I’ll remember the sound for the rest of my life. His hands fly to his throat as blood pours between his fingers. His eyes go wide with shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping on land.

Then he drops from his throne onto the floor he built this whole rotten kingdom to sit above. Fitting.

I don’t feel an ounce of pain or regret for being the one to end his life. Isn’t it ironic that the son you bring into the world can take you out of it?

The entire room goes silent. Every guard, every contestant, every sick fuck on the screen—they all stare at Archon’s body as it twitches on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Wood creaks under my boots as I step forward. A few guards shift toward Blair, weapons still raised.

“Stand down,” I command.

The guards freeze.

“I said stand down.”

One by one, they lower their weapons.

They have no choice.

With Archon dead, the chain of command is clear. It doesn’t care about grief or shock or payback—only rank. And I am currently the highest-ranking member alive in the Legion.

I am the new Archon.

Reaching my hand out, I signal for the guard closest to me to hand me his gun.

Just as he does, a soft, familiar laugh drifts through the smoke and dust, and the temperature drops ten degrees in half a second. Mother.

She materializes beside me, her translucent form shimmering at the edges like heat off asphalt. “This is it,” she sings. “Kill the girl. Take the title. We can rule as Archon and Archess as we always were destined to. Her body is perfect for me. Do it now while she’s still soft enough.”

I hesitate.

“Kill her.” My mother’s voice sharpens, her form solidifying slightly as she circles Blair like a predator, slow, savoring, then turns back to me.

I shake my head.