Anger boils up my spine. “You’re being a downer, Walker. I’m a first-generation archangel, whatever that is. Plus, I’m an Arena fighter, a Lewis, and someone with a lot to lose. I can do this.” I slap on another super-confident face in spite of my insides, which positively writhe with nervous energy.

Verus retakes her seat. “Armageddon doesn’t know there’s a new Scala. He won’t be expecting one to attack.”

“Exactly.” I turn to the Oligarchy. “And what if I’m able to do it? Will you agree to change how Purgatory is run?”

The Oligarchy’s coal-black eyes flare red. “How would it change?”

“This land returns to quasi rule,” says Verus. “And we set up a special force of ghouls, thrax, quasis, and angels to help patrol the borders.”

My eyebrows pop up. Clever Verus. I nudge the angel with my elbow. “Nice idea.” Her mouth rounds with a smile.

The Oligarchy fold their skeletal arms over their chests. “Never.”

I huff out a breath. Patience is not my strong suit, and what little I had was wasted today on Adair. Now that little word pushed me over the edge. I flash Lincoln a red-eyed look of rage. I try to whisper my question, but maybe don’t do the best job. “Can I kill just one?”

A smile gleams in Lincoln’s eyes. “I got this, Myla.” He turns to the Oligarchy, his face becoming stony and unreadable. “Think this through, mighty Oligarchy.” His voice sounds so calm and confident, even though I know he’s nervous inside. How does he do that? “You’re trapped in a bunker. Any minute now, Armageddon could break in. When he does, he’ll keep his promise to kill you all.”

The Oligarchy shift uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging nervous looks. Yay, they finally accept the truth about Armageddon.

Lincoln gestures to me. “Once Myla sends the demons to Hell—and I have every confidence that she will—you’ll lose control of Purgatory, but you’ll keep your lives and the Dark Lands. That’s the offer on the table.” He leans forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “If you don’t agree, then once Myla wins, we’ll offer you the same terms as Armageddon. Death.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Do we understand each other?”

I love it when Lincoln’s bossy. My lust demon comes up with the super idea to jump the Prince right here and now, but I have to overrule it. Shame, though.

Armageddon’s army sends another volley of who-the-hell-knows at the ground around us. More cans and bottles tumble to the floor. Bits of concrete dust waft down from the ceiling.

Lincoln shakes his head. “Armageddon isn’t far now. Every moment we delay makes it harder for Myla…And you.”

Moving in unison, the four ghouls brush white dust from their blood-red robes. “The Oligarchy agrees.”

Sheesh, finally.