assault triumphant, but Drake pried him away and pounded him in the jaw. Another blow sent him tumbling, landing in a puddle the color of shit, and Drake’s foot smacked down on his skull, forcing his face into the mud. He should’ve felt humiliated, but he didn’t. His dignity had been robbed of him long ago, leaving him with hate.
He yanked at Drake’s ankle, toppling him to the ground.
Both men staggered to their feet, two visions of muck and filth. Drake came at him swinging, but Tobias dipped between his moves, unflinching and unstoppable. Growling, he dove at Drake and wrapped him in a headlock, squeezing his throat. Flynn and Kaleo clawed at his back, his neck, but none of it mattered; he was a slave to the fire.
A blow to his spine sent him lurching forward, allowing Drake to wriggle free. Flynn hopped onto his back, gripping his throat, and Tobias flipped him over his shoulder, dropping him flat in the mud. Flynn scurried to his feet, the sheer sight of him igniting Tobias’s rage. With his jaw tight, he grabbed Flynn by the roots of his hair and punched him once, twice, again and again, wanting nothing more than to watch him waste away. As Flynn crumbled, Tobias kicked him to the ground, sending him sliding through the mud.
Tobias flew backward, thrown by Kaleo’s force, and crashed down onto a marble bench. Kaleo climbed on top of him, his teeth painted pink, and Tobias headbutted him, wiping the grin from his face. Blood rained down on him, and he kneed Kaleo in the groin, rolling him to the ground and landing on him. He pummeled the man’s face, hoping to turn the world red, to satisfy the heat still growing within him.
Drake yanked him from Kaleo’s body, and Tobias’s fists suddenly belonged to the Dragon. He pounded Drake in his jaw, his eyes, his chin—anywhere, so long as it hurt. Drake swung wildly, but not a single blow landed, and each failed attempt only fueled Tobias’s resolve. Another punch sent Drake whipping to the side, and his bandages came loose, revealing his sloppily sewn ear.
A target.
Tobias ripped the ear off at the stitches, and Drake howled in agony.
Tobias stumbled to the side of the garden, free for the first time since the fight had begun. Each man was in a state of recovery; Flynn limped piteously through the mud, while Kaleo’s unwavering smile was different—impressed. Drake gripped at his bloodied skull, more hateful than ever, but even he looked worn and perhaps threatened. Tobias had left his mark on each of them, had streaked them with red as if he were staking his claim.
This wasn’t his day to die. This challenge was his to win. All that was left was for him to choose a man to kill.
His gaze panned from man to man: Flynn, who had betrayed him; Kaleo, who killed Milo, Orion. Then there was Drake, who had put his hands on Leila—and that was all Tobias needed. He barreled toward Drake before he could stop himself, letting out a guttural roar.
Kill him.
Tobias slammed his fist into Drake’s mouth, landing the fiercest punch he had ever thrown. He grabbed a fistful of Drake’s hair and smashed his face into a bench, shattering his nose as red sprayed across the marble. The Dragon fought to prove his immortality, but it was futile. Tobias pinned his flailing arm to the bench and stomped down on it, the crack of his bones ripping through the air.
Drake tumbled to the ground a mangled mess, but Tobias wasn’t stopping. He dropped down onto Drake’s body, straddling his chest and burying his knee into his broken arm. His rage bubbled to the surface, unleashing itself through his trembling hands, which wrapped around Drake’s throat. The Dragon thrashed beneath him, his face flaming red, but Tobias tightened his grip, digging in with everything he had. Kill him. The desire had taken over, filling up every part of him.
Drake went limp.
The heat in Tobias’s chest slowly died. Rain poured down on him, streaking the mud on his body and the blood on his face. Every bone within him ached. Every inch of his flesh hurt. And there was a dead body beneath him.
A man he was happy to kill.
Flynn gaped at Tobias in shock, and Kaleo mirrored his sentiment, his smile intact. The royals’ expressions ranged from anger to horror—save for the Kovahrian Queen, who was unsurprised, even bored. She patted the Monarch’s cheek.