Chapter 17
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Over a dozen roughnecks surrounded them.
The burliest figure among the group lifted a sluggish arm toward their position.
“Why not contribute to our cause rather than that temple?”
His opposite grip clutched a massive blade coated in dark paint.
“Surrender every possession, and we’ll let you breathe another day. Far kinder than any deity, right?”
That gesture sparked the rest into action, drawing blades from hiding spots.
She puzzled over the lengthy weapons these street scum wielded so openly.
Civilians faced strict bans on such arms without military rank or mercenary papers.
Chill crept into her fingers amid the growing threat.
“Wouldn’t want to ruin that lovely features on the girl, so play nice.”
Spotting her fear, the gang exchanged glances before erupting in mockery.
Everett’s features hardened into frost as his calm eyes swept over the crowd.
“Your grips scream ex-army from the empire.”
A visible jolt rippled through the men at his observation.
That reaction sealed it for her—they matched the stories perfectly.
Post-war tales spoke of veterans lingering in the city, turning to vice instead of heading home.
She figured these had squandered their payouts on games of chance, craving more.
They chased shadows of glory in criminal circles over quiet rural lives.
Regaining bravado after their slip, the ruffians puffed up once more.
Everett curved his lips in a knowing grin.
“Robbing with army steel demands a steep price.”
Facing a swarm without a single tool, he radiated total composure.
“Did this kid just threaten to charge us?”
Intimidated despite their edge in count, the group clung to their advantage.
His grin sharpened to glacial edges.
“Ms. Diaz, truly frightened? Face away and block the sounds.”
A gentle pat on her shoulder preceded his measured advance.
A few recoiled instinctively yet held firm, eyeing comrades.
Her whisper barely escaped, ignored by design.
Nibbling her lip, she retreated with care.
The emperor chose aides purely on skill.
Proximity to such power meant Everett could handle this rabble effortlessly.
Unease lingered regardless.
She offered quiet hopes for his well-being.
Drawing near, a cornered brute lunged blade high.
Everett seized the man’s forearm, wrenching it viciously.
Bone twisted wrong as the weapon clattered free.
His boot nudged beneath it, flipping the edge airborne.
In a blur, he snatched and flourished it with flair.
Simple dark garb amplified the image.
Blade aloft, he embodied a infernal warrior from the abyss.
The crippled attacker reeled away, agony overwhelming.
“You idiot fool.”
Numbers offered no sure win now with a blade missing.
Mutual snarls flew between them.
Leisure for recriminations vanished fast.
Each arc of his weapon felled another body.
Moonlight gleamed on spreading crimson pools.
A faint whimper escaped her throat.
Mid-clash, he caught it and tsked sharply.
“Ms. Diaz, eyes elsewhere as instructed.”
His stare flicked her way briefly.
Those golden depths mirrored lunar ice.
She edged further instinctively before his focus snapped back.
Time to wrap this up.
The fight devolved into pure dominance.
A single foe remained upright.
Everett closed in as the survivor retreated, yelling defiance.
He tossed out words with boyish glee.
Shaking grip flailing, the man hacked wildly.
Everett deflected without strain.
Metal rang out sharply, raw power dictating the end.
Overpowered, the blade sailed off while its owner crumpled, cradling his arm.
A jaunty tune passed his lips as he poised for the finish.
Danger struck then.
A feigned casualty surged upright, bolting her direction.
He’d waited for Everett’s distance in the melee.
Horror gripped her at the sight; she veered toward safety.
Speed betrayed her utterly.
Rough fingers snagged her collar after mere strides.
Gasping with twisted mirth, he yanked her locks, metallic tang of fresh injury thick in the air.
From his tunic came a tiny dagger, now flush to her throat.
“Quiet now, no fuss. Survival calls for us all, lady.”
Hot menace breathed into her ear.
Edwin felled his current mark with a neck chop.
Demon rage twisted his visage as he neared the captor.
“Back off now!”
Panic drove the blade harder; her hue drained rapidly.
He regretted the spared lives—softness creeping in so soon outside the pavilion.
Self-scorn halted his steps.
“Name your terms.”
Tone laced with annoyance.
Compliance never crossed his mind; mere bait to lure complacency.
A minor cut there, holy vial in his pocket could mend it.
Feigning detachment, he waited.
Assuming romance fueled the standoff, the thug faltered at the chill.
Any rush meant her doom.
“Damn it, I’ll slice her open!”
Tension drew first red beads from fragile flesh.
Terror welled in her eyes, yet silence held to avoid escalation.
One-sided smirk played on Edwin’s face.
That tick sparked tremors in the shaky hold.
Purple depths, brimming with plea, met his briefly.
Endurance would pay off soon.
Understanding dawned; she signaled agreement.
Vitality flushed back, terror yielding to steel.
Silent approval warmed him toward her grit.
Motion followed.
Her palm lifted slow, gaze locked wary.
A deliberate flutter at Edwin.
Confusion flickered—what ploy?
To shield her, he baited loud.
“Lacking the nerve?”
Enraged, eyes swung his way.
Fingers clawed the raw gash deep.
Agony slackened the vise.
“Carolina, drop low!”
Crouched safe, his steel whistled true.
Violet gleam flashed triumph.
Pure disbelief washed over him, a novel sensation.
Chance seized fully now.
No trace of hesitation tempered the stroke.
