Chapter 72: Altar Core

Chapter 72: Altar Core

Sophia's ceramic blade was already drawn.

She stood to Cole's left rear, the tip aimed at Odin.

The hand holding the knife was steady, because she had seen too many people like Odin — on Rockefeller's board of directors, in the shadows of the international arms market — every person who believed they had the right to decide who lived and who died wore the exact same expression as Odin.

She had grown up seeing that look.

She wasn't afraid of him.

Elena had set up her sniper rifle further back, the barrel trained between Odin's eyes.

Odin glanced over them.

Then he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

In an instant, the tubes on the cross erupted with blinding violet light, and the black chaos fluid surged through the tubes and pumped faster into Kyle's chest.

Kyle's body convulsed violently. The chains rattled and screamed as he thrashed against them, the skin at his wrists and ankles torn open by the iron links, dark red blood running down the chains.

He slowly opened his eyes.

His irises were half the molten gold of a wolf, half the pure black of chaos.

The two colors tore at each other across his iris, the boundary between them shifting and writhing.

Then he opened his mouth, and a deafening wolf's howl tore from his throat.

Kyle threw both arms outward. The chains snapped taut against his body, letting out a sharp metallic shriek — and then they broke.

He dropped from the cross and hit the ground, and the impact shook the entire altar.

The dark violet cloud hanging from the dome spun faster, releasing a deep, rumbling roar.

Kyle straightened up.

Cole lost focus for a moment. In his memory, his father had been so tall — but now Kyle was only half a head taller than him.

Kyle was almost entirely bare, only a strip of ragged cloth wrapped around his waist. Over twenty years of imprisonment had wasted most of his muscle, but what remained was still thick and dense as the roots of an old tree.

Chaos runes spread from his chest along his veins across his entire torso. His arms and legs were covered in violet markings that pulsed with each breath — brightening, dimming, brightening again.

His gaze swept across everyone in front of him, not pausing on any face, until it landed on Cole.

Cole slid his knife into the sheath at his waist and stepped forward with empty hands.

"Dad," Cole said. "It's me. Cole."

Kyle's expression didn't change. The runes on his body flared — and Kyle lunged at Cole.

Kyle wasn't fast, but his strength was beyond reason. Wolf claws extended from his fingertips, their edges wrapped in a violet-black light corrupted by chaos, and he swung.

Cole twisted aside. The claws passed about two inches in front of him, but the pressure from the swing hit Cole square in the chest and shoved him back two steps.

Kyle's hand came down on the spot where Cole had just been standing, punching a two-inch crater into the concrete floor.

Cole rolled to the side and came back up.

Kyle had already turned and locked onto him again.

"Dad, it's me." Cole spread both hands open at his sides, palms forward, fingers loose — no fists, no claws. "I'm Cole. Don't you know me?"

Kyle's footsteps didn't slow for a single beat.

Every muscle in his body tensed at once — and then he exploded forward, launching himself at Cole like a cannonball.

Cole had no time to dodge. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and took the hit straight on.

Kyle's palms slammed into his crossed forearms. The dark gold of Alpha power and the violet-black of chaos collided, and the shockwave blasted outward from the point of impact, hurling chunks of debris and clouds of dust in every direction.

Cole was driven back ten feet across the floor. Three gashes opened across his forearms, blood dripping from his elbows.

Kyle gave him no time to breathe and came at him again.

Cole could only defend. He dodged one claw with a sidestep, ducked under the second, flipped back to avoid the third.

Odin stood with his arms folded against the edge of the rune obelisk, watching the one-sided fight with a slight smile.

Kyle suddenly spun and lunged toward Sophia.

A new command from Odin.

Sophia raised her blade to block. The ceramic knife met Kyle's claws.

In an instant, a chunk broke from the blade. The impact drove her backward, and she slammed into the rune obelisk.

Kyle's left claw followed, going straight for her throat.

She pulled phoenix fire together at her throat, forming a thin golden shield. Kyle's claws crashed into it and shattered it, the fragments scattering as golden sparks.

The shield saved her life — but the shockwave caught her in the chest, and the force threw her ten feet through the air before she hit the ground.

Cole rushed over to help her up. Sophia pushed his hand away.

She coughed once and brought up blood, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'm fine. Go to your father."

Cole turned back.

Kyle was breathing hard, the runes across his body pulsing, violet-black light churning in the depths of his eyes.

In this moment, Kyle Thorne was nothing but a wolf locked inside chaos — and the other end of the chain was in Odin's hand.

Cole got to his feet. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and pulled the short blade from his waist.

"I don't want to fight you." Cole's eyes changed. "I flew halfway around the world to find you. Over six hundred people came to the Arctic. More than a hundred of them died. Even Old Eric is dead. And now you're standing in front of me, attacking me, nearly killing Sophia — because some crazy old man put a tube in your head?"

Kyle came at him.

This time Cole didn't dodge. He charged straight into Kyle's claws, deflecting his father's right arm with his left hand and driving the knife handle into Kyle's jaw.

Kyle's head snapped back. Cole took the opening, moved to his side, and drew the blade across the back of Kyle's left knee.

The cut opened skin, muscle, and the tendon connection — deep enough to take the leg out from under him, precise enough not to sever the main vessels.

Kyle's left leg buckled. He went down on one knee.

Cole didn't stop. He brought the flat of the blade down on the bicep of Kyle's right shoulder with exact force.

Kyle's right arm lost its grip. The claws hung limp at his side.

Kyle was on his knees now, both arms temporarily out, the runes still pulsing across his body.

Then Cole pressed one hand against the tube site on Kyle's chest and reached into his inner pocket with the other, pulling out Hel's necklace.

Blue light flared. The rune light of the necklace collided with the violet-black of the tubes at Kyle's chest.

Cole gripped the tube at both ends, wolf claws biting into the black crystal casing, and snapped it.

The tube broke. Violet fluid sprayed from the break.

A small jet of dark red blood came from Kyle's chest. Cole pressed his palm over the wound and held it there — his hand against his father's heart.

The black churning in Kyle's eyes began to recede. He looked down at the wound on his chest, then looked up at Cole.

He looked carefully, his gaze shifting from unfocused to clear. His voice came out rough and dry as sandpaper.

"…Cole?"