Chapter 173 Our Turn Is Next
Caden’s POV
The arena still smelled like smoke.
Even with most of the fires outside the palace walls already being beaten back, the air carried that bitter, burnt taste that stuck to the back of your throat. Ash drifted in thin gray flakes from the open ceiling vents, floating down like sick snow over the benched seating.
Clarence wanted fear. He wanted chaos. And damn it, he had gotten some.
But not enough. Not nearly enough.
The women and children stayed in the viewing room above the arena floor. That had been the decision. No moving them around while Clarence’s idiots were still scrambling like cockroaches inside the walls.
Darien and Lucian guarded the doors like statues carved from iron. No one came in or went out.
Inside the room, the babies had finally settled.
Atlas and Cassian had been restless ever since the explosions. They were too restless.
I stood on the arena floor now, arms folded across my chest, watching the warriors reset the field for the next round of the tournament. The gates were still closed, but the fighters were gathering.
We were on 9 and 10. Were going to continue with the tournament. There's no use in delaying or canceling it. That's what Clarence wants. Well, he's not getting it.
Everything looked normal now. We got everything back into place and regained control rather quickly. But it didn’t feel normal.
Drake was pacing as he was even unsettled and restless.
Above me, through the open viewing glass, I saw movement. It was Trixie. She was standing now. Her head tilted slightly. Her eyes locked on something below.
“Caden.” She said through our link.
My spine straightened, I knew just from the way she said my name that we had a problem. “Yes little mouse. Is there something wrong?” I asked as she has me concerned.
There was no hesitation. She was certain. “Atlas and Cassian found another one.” She replied through the link.
My heart dropped straight into my gut. “Where.”
She paused for a moment. I can see her looking in a certain direction.
“Arena floor. Far east gate. Worker’s cloak. Bag at his feet.” She said through our link as her eyes didn't move off this guy in question.
My head snapped toward the eastern side of the arena. And there he was. A man crouched near the stone support beside the gate. He wore the dull gray cloak of a maintenance worker. Head down. Quiet. Invisible. He blended in perfectly, or so he thought.
Exactly the kind of man no one looks at twice.
Except. Atlas and Cassian had.
Above me I could feel them. Their power was different now. It was more, like focused. The entire arena suddenly shifted.
The air thickened. Like pressure building before a storm. The warriors stopped talking. Several of them glanced around in confusion. The crowd above began murmuring.
Then the man froze. Completely. He then went rigid. His head lifted slowly. His eyes went wide.
Because suddenly...
Everyone noticed him.
The babies had done something. I don't know exactly what the hell it was, but it was like a spotlight had dropped on the bastard. Every warrior’s gaze snapped to him. Thirty sets of eyes locked onto one man.
The arena went dead silent.
Then the bag beside him shifted.
Drake shouted at me. “MOVE! Human. Now!"
I sprinted across the room. My boots pounding against the arena floor. The warriors reacted instantly. Five. No ten. Make that twenty men closed in like a damn net.
The man saw the attention he was getting and all the warriors closing in on him and he panicked. His hand shot into the bag.
But he was too late. I hit him like a freight train. My shoulder slammed into his chest and drove him straight into the stone wall beside the gate with a bone-cracking THUD.
Air blasted out of his lungs. The bag spilled open. Metal cylinders rolled across the floor.
Bombs.
A lot of them.
My blood went cold.
Warriors surrounded us instantly.
Steel flashed. Blades at his throat. Hands grabbing his arms.
“Don’t move,” one of my warriors growled.
The man was breathing hard. Sweat poured down his face. His eyes darted around the arena. But it wouldn't do him any good. He was cornered. He was caught.
I grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall again.
“First one?” I snarled.
He didn’t answer.
I grabbed the bag and kicked it open. At least eight more bombs inside. Maybe more.
My stomach twisted.
“Shit,” one of the warriors muttered.
Yeah. Shit was right, and a great big pile of it.
If Atlas and Cassian hadn’t caught him. If they hadn't felt him, then the entire arena could have gone up with thousands of people inside.
Above us, the babies suddenly relaxed. The pressure in the air eased. The warriors who had been standing stiff and confused shook their heads like they’d just woken up.
Cassian and Atlas had calmed them.
Just like that.
I exhaled slowly. I ran my hand through my hair. Those babies. Jesus. I just don't have the words to describe how grateful I am for my wonderful boys.
I dragged the man upright by his collar.
“You picked the wrong fucking arena,” I said quietly.
His lip curled. But fear was already cracking through his bravado. "Clarence sends his regards.” He said as he spat at my boots.
Several warriors growled at the man, as they inched closer towards him.
I smiled. Cold and mean.
“Good.”
I jerked my head toward the gate.
“Get him to the dungeon.”
The warriors hauled him forward. His feet dragged across the floor. He knew what waited below. Everyone did.
Behind me, one of the warriors nudged the bag of bombs with his boot.
“Boss,” he muttered.
I looked down at them. Then back at the man being dragged away.
“Yeah,” I said darkly.
“Clarence made a big statement today.”
I turned toward the stairs leading up to the viewing room. But my voice carried across the arena.
“And now it’s our turn.”