Weapons Master Galactic Gladia - Anna Hackett Page 0,16
Rone had found him. Magnus’ house had been much smaller then, but still dedicated to helping the injured. They’d saved him by giving him synthetic organs, an internal cybernetic system, and metal bone replacements.
His family—from the elitist world of Velios, who prized good breeding and pure bloodlines—had been horrified.
Silva had looked at him like he was a monster, with disgust and repulsion. They’d all renounced him, telling him that they would have preferred that he died.
He’d still been recovering in bed when they’d left Carthago, leaving him behind.
Magnus had offered him a home.
Maxon had been angry for so long. He’d eventually looked up his family. Silva had gone on to marry his brother, Erix.
Maxon shifted on the bench seat. Time had made him realize that his family and Silva had never truly loved or cared for him. He was actually grateful to have escaped that shallow existence.
A hand touched his thigh. He flicked his gaze up.
Bellamy squeezed his leg. “Okay?”
He nodded. How could she see through him so easily?
“Howdy, House of Rone,” a female voice said.
A slim redhead stood nearby, holding a wriggling young boy, who clearly wanted down. Behind her were several other women.
“Bellamy,” Jayna said with a wide smile. “These are the Fortuna Station survivors from the House of Galen.”
Maxon stayed back as Bellamy was introduced around, and hugged and greeted like a long-lost sister.
“Dada.” The little boy lunged out of his mother’s arms.
“Finley!” Rory tried to catch her son.
Maxon caught the sturdy boy and found himself being studied by green eyes a different shade to Bellamy’s, but exactly like Rory’s.
“Dada?” The boy pressed his hand against Maxon’s shirt.
“He’s busy right now.” Maxon pointed down to the arena floor.
The boy’s father, the gladiator, Kace, was fighting two rival gladiators.
Spotting his father, Finley laughed and clapped his hands. Then he turned and slapped Maxon’s cheek.
“Thanks.” Rory retrieved her son.
Maxon jerked his chin up at the woman. Then he realized Finley had smeared something sticky on his shirt. Wonderful.
Bellamy sat back beside him, her lips twitching.
“What?” he growled.
“You look cute holding a kid.”
Cute? He scowled. “Couldn’t let him dive off the railing, could I?”
“Mmm.”
He ignored her.
Then she reached up, her knuckles rubbing his cheek. Sensations whispered through his entire body.
“You have something sticky on your cheek.” She gently wiped it away.
They stared at each other for a long moment, then she sat back.
“Hey, Sage,” she called out. “What happened to my snack?”
The other woman was sitting behind them, nestled up with Acton.
“Oops, sorry.” Sage grinned. “I ate them all.” She held up an empty packet.
Bellamy looked around and pointed to a man holding a tray of snacks.
“Hey, over here.” She raised her arm to get the seller’s attention.
The man headed her way.
“Wait, I don’t have any money.”
“Here.” Maxon fished around in his pocket and handed her a small medallion. The metal coin was stamped with the logo of the House of Rone—a gladiator’s helmet over crossed swords. “Just show it to him.”
“The Carthago version of a credit card.” She held the coin up.
The seller came closer, holding his tray filled with paper bags of different snacks. “What would you like?”
“Mmm, it all smells good,” Bellamy said. “Oh, that looks like popcorn.”
Maxon felt a chill along his spine. He frowned. A bad feeling settled on him like a black cloud.
As Bellamy talked to the seller, he scanned around. The sense of doom grew.
No one appeared to be paying any extra attention to them, or presented any danger. A faint, sickly sweet smell hit his enhanced senses.
Bellamy was reaching for the snack she’d purchased.
“Wait!” Maxon grabbed her wrist.
“What’s wrong now?” she grumbled.
Maxon breathed deep. The scent was stronger. “I smell demis.”
Acton leaned forward, a frown on his face. “I detect the scent as well.”
Maxon spotted a faint gold dust on the food. “The snacks are poisoned.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
The seller froze. The man was reptilian, with a faint, brown, scale pattern on his skin, and no hair. His elongated eyes blinked.
Then he tossed the tray of snacks at them.
Food flew everywhere, and Maxon leaped up.
The man stepped back and pulled a long, thin blade from his belt—an assassin’s blade, designed to slide through ribs and puncture organs. He stabbed at Bellamy.
She gasped, and Maxon shoved her out of the way. She tilted and fell off the back of the bench. Then Maxon yanked his own blade off his belt. His was bigger with a dangerous serrated edge.
He and the assassin slammed into each other, blade against blade.
He heard shouts and screams,