Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I push through the remaining people waiting for judgment and focus in on the two guards at the end of the bridge. They squat low, brandishing the pointy ends of their spears my way.
I won’t make it past, but I kick it into high gear and sprint faster, barreling right at them. It’s my only option. Maybe I’ll be able to dodge their weapons.
Maybe I can do one of those slick moves you see in the movies, like a baseball slide under their legs.
Maybe I’ll—
Something wraps around my waist and I’m pulled backward. My feet fly up, and I land flat on my back, hard. Hard enough that I should be wheezing, but there’s no pain at all.
So strange.
I’m hauled up by the two guards I’d blown past earlier. I look down but there’s nothing around my waist, and I have no clue what pulled me off my feet. The guards drag me across the slick stone toward the creature named Amell, king of the Underworld. I have stupid thoughts about why he’s called Amell—I thought Satan ruled Hell. Or is it Lucifer? Hades? No clue.
It had been surreal watching the massive man with his glossy raven wings flick his wrist casually, rendering judgment with a mere wave. Bodies over the edge, burning up far below.
It’s what awaits me now.
I jerk and struggle against my captors’ hold, trying to back up as they push me forward. My thrift store boots scrabble against the slippery black rock. I curse vicious snarls of expletives. “Let go of me, you creepy, motherfucking douchebags.”
I twist to the side and launch a kick at one of the guards. My foot bounces off his shin, and he doesn’t even break stride. I lean into him and try to bite his forearm, but he claps me in the head, dislodging me before I can sink my teeth in.
It’s not lost on me that I didn’t feel any pain from my kick to his leg or his big hand smacking my head. My body clearly isn’t functioning right, but that just makes me fight harder. The fact I can’t feel pain means I shouldn’t have anything holding me back in my desperate attempt to not get hurled into that river.
I kick, spit, try to bite, curse, and scream. I’ve been debased to a cornered, rabid animal. The guards’ hands clamp on tighter, and their steady strides bring me closer and closer to the man named Calix who has been reading out the charges and seems to know a lot about each person per the document in his hand.
My eyes flick over to the king lounging on his throne. He sits upright, not slouched, but he does lean against one armrest casually as he watches, drumming his fingers on his thigh. The king is all rippled muscles that flex under a formfitting leather vest and pants. His face is near perfect, precise angles and lines, along with full lips standing out starkly against his cropped blond hair. The two slashing golden brows above his dark blue eyes make him look distinctly annoyed.
When we reach Calix, the guards shove me forward as they release me, and I fall to my knees. It’s where many of those who came before me have fallen, pleading for their salvation.
I don’t do that. I pop to my feet and my hand shoots out, wrenching the scroll away from the man. My move is so sudden, he stares at me dumbfounded.
“Got your scroll, motherfucker,” I sneer and toss it over the edge.
It doesn’t even anger the man. He merely twists his hand and another scroll appears. He reaches out, making a move to offer it to me. “Want to toss this one over? I can play this game all day.”
His smug amusement enrages me, and I scream as I charge at him. The smirk is wiped off his lips as I punch and pummel him. I know it will do nothing to save me from my fate, but it sure feels fucking good to throw some violence before I die.
Or rather, before my soul becomes fully damned.
Suddenly, I’m ripped away from the man, though not by the guards. Not by anything I can see, but my body moves as if the massive hand of a giant were around me.
I’m hurled to the side of the bridge, my feet stopping right at the edge, and my body leans way out. My arms flail as I try to pull myself back, but I hover in midair, the balls of my feet now the only thing touching the stone walkway.
My head twists and I see the king holding out his hand with his fingers down as if he’s controlling marionette strings and I’m the puppet he’s manipulating.
This is it. He doesn’t even need to hear my crimes. He’s going to dump me in.