Liam argued with the Regulators for ten minutes, his voice rising in frustration, but it was no use. The laws of the Ashen Field were absolute.
Once a champion steps forward, the choice is sealed in blood.
He stormed back to us, his face a mask of thunder. Uncle Brent and Reagan looked pale, eyeing Dante like he was a dead man walking.
Jack, however, looked terrifyingly smug. He leaned against a dead tree, arms crossed, watching the show with the patience of a man who knows the ending.
"How many minutes did you say?" Dante asked me, checking his watch. "One? Maybe I should stretch it to five. Give them a show."
"You are going to get yourself killed," I hissed. "Igor is a monster."
"So am I, Gabriella," Dante whispered, winking. "So am I."
The Regulators raised their hands, silencing
