In the background, he could hear Mia screaming and crying, the pain in her voice ripping at his heart. With each second that passed, the debilitating weakness that rendered him so helpless was dissipating, his body beginning to function with a semblance of normality.
He needed to survive a little longer. Just a little more, and he might stand a chance, instead of lying there like a piece of meat.
For now, though, he was still far too weak. To fight back at this point would be deadly. Loris was playing with him, putting on a show, trying to regain his standing through this display of his fighting prowess – but at any sign of renewed resistance from Korum, he would go straight for Korum’s throat.
So Korum let the blows rain down on him, not even groaning when Loris kicked him over and over again. He ignored the pain of bones breaking and tendons ripping apart, concentrating only on remaining conscious.
And when Loris finally reached for his throat, Korum gathered every bit of strength in his damaged and torn body . . . and let his rage boil over.
His left arm – the only limb that remained semi-functional – hooked around Loris’s throat with a deadly grip, pulling the Protector close. And before his opponent could react, Korum’s teeth were sinking deep into his flesh, biting through his spinal column and severing the connection to the brain.
Blood spurted everywhere: in Korum’s eyes, his hair, his mouth . . . He was covered with blood, the taste and smell of it consuming him, adding to the black fury surging through his veins. He was no longer thinking or reasoning; he was bloodlust incarnate, craving more and more. His teeth sank into Loris’s throat again, ripping at it, tearing it apart, until there was nothing left.
Chapter 16
Saret watched in shock and furious disbelief as Loris’s severed head rolled down the field. The Councilor’s dark eyes were open and unseeing, his mouth slack and covered with blood.
All around him, the crowd was going wild. People were on their floats, in the aisles, screaming and stomping their feet. Korum’s name was being chanted over and over again, making Saret feel sick to his stomach.
He had to get out of there. Now, before it was too late. He could analyze his failure later; all that mattered at this point was getting away.
Rising from his seat, he joined the screaming spectators in the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mia struggling against Arus, trying to get to her lover. Saret desperately wished he could grab her and take her with him, but she was too well-protected here. He would have to come back for her again.
Pushing through the crowds, Saret slowly made his way toward the exit, doing his best not to draw undue attention to himself. He was almost there when he felt a sudden zapping sensation through his entire body.
Stunned and helpless, he collapsed on the floor, barely cognizant of the guardians surrounding him.
* * *
Korum didn’t know how long he remained in that mindless state of rage. It could’ve been minutes or hours. By the time he came back to his senses, Loris’s head was lying several meters away from his body, his eyes vacant and his neck looking like it had been savaged by a wild animal.
Dead. His opponent was dead.
Korum’s own body was in agony, and he could feel the darkness trying to overtake him again. Only the knowledge that there was still something he needed to do kept him from the sweetness of oblivion.
His greatest enemy was not the one lying on the field; he was the one hiding among the spectators – and Mia was still in danger.
Groaning in pain, Korum managed to get up on his hands and knees, his muscles shaking from the effort. He was dim
ly aware that the crowd was cheering for him, that Voret was formally announcing him as the winner.
None of that mattered to him now. All he cared about was Mia, and getting to her before Saret did. Korum’s body was healing, but not fast enough, and he cursed himself as his shattered femur refused to hold his weight, his leg collapsing beneath him as he tried to get to his feet.
“We got him. It’s all right; she’s safe.” Strong hands were suddenly holding him up, helping him get to his feet. It was Alir – the leader of the guardians.
Korum’s head spun, and his stomach churned with nausea as his damaged body protested the new vertical position. “Where is he?” he managed to say, his voice hoarse and ragged.
“There.” Alir pointed near the exit with his left hand while providing support for Korum with his right.
Korum squinted in that direction, the sun blinding him for a moment. When his vision cleared, he saw an unfamiliar Krinar being collared by three guardians. The man’s features were completely different from Saret’s, his eyes larger and his chin more prominent.
“He’s got a very good disguise,” Alir said, understanding Korum’s unspoken question. “Even the outer layer of DNA is different, which is how we didn’t detect his presence before. But the shooter’s coordinates you sent us matched this man’s location perfectly, and an internal DNA sample showed that it is indeed Saret.”
Intense relief mixed with bitter regret, leaving Korum conflicted about this turn of events. He had wanted to be the one to catch Saret, to punish him for what he’d done to Mia. But instead, his former friend was now in the hands of the Krinar law keepers. No matter how badly Korum wanted to kill him, Saret would now live to stand trial.
“Korum!” Mia’s voice reached his ears, jerking him out of his dark thoughts. Looking up, he saw her slight figure running down the field, her dark hair flying behind her. The happiness that filled him at the sight was so acute that he forgot all about Saret and his betrayal, focusing only on the girl he loved.
Then she was next to him, and he could see that she was pale and shaking, her dress torn in one spot. Her beautiful face was wet with tears. One pale arm lifted toward him, her hand trembling as though she wasn’t certain if she could touch him. “You’re alive,” she whispered, and he could hear the disbelieving note in her voice. “Oh my God, Korum, you’re alive . . .”