In the end, two others joined Erik’s team. Bold, who wielded a hammer able to break every bone in someone’s body with a single strike, and Ryder, who’d had a strange ability to stand in one location, then create a second version of himself to send out to fight on his behalf.

That made four allies in total—that Bane knew about. Adonis and Rush, the other two.

Bane remained on his knees, head bowed, mouth zipped, biding his time. Five minutes until roll call ended...

More insults were brandied about.

Four... He clenched and unclenched his fists, his shoulder throbbing more than ever. He’d been careful to avoid further injury the past few days.

Three... He eyed his target—Colt—and palmed the daggers he’d brought. He’d left Valor’s sword hidden with Nola. Win the ring, better protect your queen.

Two... His ears picked up a light shuffle of footsteps. Many footsteps. Frowning, he lifted his head and cast his gaze up—and saw red. Men dressed in black crouched along the mountaintops. Damn this! Erik had rallied a new army.

One minute left...

Silence erupted, aggression charging the air. Bane counted down the seconds. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight. He rolled his head, his shoulders, preparing his muscles for action, then shifted into a crouch. He would have to avoid gunshots from above...while helping Zion, Vale and Knox do the same...while avoiding strikes from his competitors.

He caught Zion’s gaze and motioned to the soldiers.

Zion caught sight of them and scowled.

They shared a moment of communication: Erik dies today.

Focus. No battle had ever been so important. No matter what, Bane could not let himself transform into Drogo. Two weapons would be destroyed.

Five. Warriors got into position.

Four.

Three.

Two.

Seven banged his scythe into the ice a second time. The invisible walls of energy came crashing down with a whoosh.

For one suspended moment, no one moved.

Then all hell erupted. War cries pierced the night, blending with the clang of steel as warriors threw themselves into an all-out brawl.

Bane ducked, dodged when necessary and mauled anyone in his way, making a beeline for Colt. Colt first, Erik second. Someone’s blood spurted, spraying his face. Scorching his face. His vison blurred.

Go, go! Stop and die. His vision cleared in time to see a glowing whip lash out, snagging his wrist. Bane fought the instant flood of agony, using the whip against Thorn, its wielder, yanking the male closer. One slash of his claws, and Thorn dropped, screaming.

Quick glance at Vale. Doing well. Zion? Edging closer to Colt. Knox? Fighting to return to Vale.

Moving on... Petra whirled in Bane’s direction, sword raised. Recalling the car wreck that almost ended Nola’s life, he threw an elbow, nailing her in the jaw. Ronan rushed over to safeguard his partner, but he had Carrick on his heels.