The Darkest Torment. Gena Showalter

movement. The same freeze-frame clearly overtook Pandora, her expression strained as she fought the immobility.

      Only when he made a conscious decision to stand down—won’t act, not here—did he gain his freedom.

      “Now, then.” Hades stalked toward them. “You broke my only rule. You tried to kill my other slave.”

      “You never said attempting to kill Baden was a problem,” Pandora replied. “Only that I’d be killed if I succeeded.”

      How did he know of Pandora’s crime?

      “Pippin.” Hades clapped his hands.

      The white-robed man appeared in a puff of dark smoke. Like before, he clutched a stone tablet.

      “Yes, sire.”

      “What’s my only rule?”

      “That there are no rules, sire.”

      “And?” Hades prompted.

      “And whatever else you decide, sire.”

      “That’s right. Whatever else I decide.” Hades spread his arms, the very picture of smug masculinity. “I’ve decided even an attempt to kill each other is a punishable offense. You won’t be beheaded for it, even if you succeed, but you will be penalized—and wish I’d killed you instead.”

      Baden swallowed a curse. “If you’re allowed to change your mind whenever you wish, how can we trust you’ll keep your word and liberate the winner?”

      “Do you have any other choice?” The king pinched off a piece of the still-beating organ and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste. “Spy is so much better than chocolate.”

      Pandora flinched, and Baden frowned. Had she sent someone to spy on Hades?

      “Send another one, Pandy girl, and you won’t like what happens.” Hades dropped what was left of the organ and wiped his hands together.

      Well. That answered that.

      “Now,” the king said. “You’re lucky I have a heart today.” He kicked the one he’d dropped like it was a soccer ball. “I’m going to go easy on you. For attacking Baden, you are hereby stripped of your point.” He glared at Pandora, daring her to respond. “And you.” He focused on Baden, his anger seeming to double.

      Baden waved his fingers, all bring it. He would not apologize for defending himself.

      “You have yet to acquire my coin.”

      That was the male’s beef? “This particular task requires time. Your words, not mine.”

      Hades winced on Baden’s behalf. “Time, yes. Eternity, no. To speed things up, Pandora will aid you.”

      A roar rose from deep in his chest. Calm. Steady. With or without the game, Baden would be the one to find the coin and slay Aleksander. My point. My right.

      “I’ll ensure Pandora can flash to the male. In the meantime, I have a new task for you.” Hades held out his palm and Pippin placed a piece of stone in the center.

      The stone caught fire, turned to ash and when that ash drifted Baden’s way, he inhaled it.

      New images popped up in his mind. A bearded man with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. He had multiple scars on his arms. Thin straight lines, as if sliced by a blade.

      Baden’s mind jumped the track to Katarina and her scars.

      The pang returned to his chest. The pain she must have endured—

      Stop. Concentrate!

      New information continued to barrage him. The man was a sociopath, killing without concern for the age and gender of his victims. After every murder, he notched both of his arms as a memento.

      Baden ran his tongue over his teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

      “Bring me his head. Today.”

      In the past, Baden had only ever killed during battle. And he’d never enjoyed it. This time, he thought he might cheer alongside the beast.

      What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

      Katarina’s words danced through his mind, and he frowned.

      I have a mission to do, a point to earn. An evil act against an evil man.

      Would Katarina understand? Would she castigate him for his actions?

      Concentrate. Why did Hades want the head of a human?

      The answer rose. The target played host to some sort of dark presence. Not a demon, not even a creature like Destruction. But something even worse. Something Lucifer hoped to obtain to use against Hades and give himself an edge in the war.

      Baden would catch it and escort it to the underworld along with the head. Because, as much as he disliked Hades, he wouldn’t allow evil to roam free on the earth. Not if he could stop it. He would also do anything, even remain a slave, to prevent Lucifer from ruling supreme over any more territory.

      “Consider it done. A point earned.” He pictured his target... flashed to a small log cabin. Despite the light cast by multiple kerosene lamps, doom-and-gloom tainted the air—or maybe the blame was the scent of rot.

      Baden strode into the kitchen...found a dead body strapped to a long wooden table, the chest cavity opened, and several organs removed.

      His target perched at the end of the table, eating what looked to be a liver. Nice. He was talking to the corpse.

      “—was nekkid as a jaybird. I almost spit my soda—” He noticed Baden and grabbed the rifle propped against his chair. “You stay right thar, now, you heer.”

      Baden flashed to his side, grabbed the gun and slammed the handle into his temple, then his yellowed teeth. Jab, jab. Impact sent him tumbling to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count. He crab-walked backward, blood trickling down his face, catching in his dirty beard.

      “Don’t be hurtin’ me. Please.” He tried to stealthily reach inside his boot, where a dagger hilt peeked out.

      Thinks to stab me?

      Baden flashed over and stomped on his hand, breaking the bones.

      As a scream of agony cut through the air, Destruction laughed with delight—so did Baden. Then the man pissed himself, and one of the beast’s memories knocked on the door of Baden’s mind.

      He fought to remain in the present...but he...he...the cabin was replaced by a cell. No longer a child but finally a man, he stalked to the first person he’d seen in centuries. The lord of the castle. The one who’d paid his mother a few measly coins for the privilege of “taming” him. The one who’d ordered his imprisonment when he’d resisted the taming.

      The lord was draped in expensive velvets, with different medals pinned to his shoulders and chest. How many battles had he won? Countless. And yet, he urinated as the distance between them vanished, knew his time had come—

      In the present, Baden’s feet were knocked out from under him. He blinked and shook his head, breaking the tight grip of the past. His target stabbed him in the chest and raced toward the front door.

      Baden grabbed his ankle, tripping him. His jaw shattered, blood and what remained of his teeth spewing over the wood panels.

      Smiling, Baden removed the dagger and stood. The man stayed down.