“What do you want with her?” Zion fisted and unfisted his hands, his metal gloves glinting in what little light remained. He walked backward, putting a car between them.

Admit the truth to an enemy? Never. Bane sneered, saying, “What does any man want with any woman?”

He expected disgust from Zion, even rage, but it was suspicion that glowed in the male’s dark eyes.

Even those who’d studied Adwaewethian culture had no idea the royals wielded absolute control over their warriors. Instinct prevented Adwaewethians from speaking about kingdom business with outsiders, ever, even when tortured.

Anyone who’d studied Bane specifically would know only that he’d won two All Wars, and he’d lost his wife right before the start of this one.

“What do you want with the mortal?” he demanded. What had the warrior dreamed about her?

Zion flashed a cruel smile. “You could get what any man wants from any woman here.” He waved to indicate the bevy of frozen mortals. “And yet you follow this one. Perhaps you need her for something more, eh?”

Bane heard the implied threat. You need her...so I will keep her just to spite you.

“Instead of fighting, let’s work together,” Zion announced. “Erik the Widow Maker spent centuries planning for our escape. He has allied with a handful of combatants, Union among them. Union is on your trail, and Erik is on mine. They are determined to take out the strongest combatants, and they are always many steps ahead of us, their numbers increasing daily. At this rate, they’ll win in a matter of weeks.”

Union owned a belt that doubled his strength. Ability-wise, he could cast illusions. Nothing Bane couldn’t handle. “My answer is no.” He extended his hand and waved his fingers. “Come to me, Nola.”

Her gaze met his, and for one suspended moment, they were the only two people on the planet, currents of awareness arcing between them. Then she shook her head and told him, “I’m staying with Zion. Please, trust me. This is for the best.”

Another refusal. His fury exploded into rage. With a roar, he picked up the car parked between him and Zion and hurled it, further tearing the gash in his shoulder. Worth it. The vehicle crashed into a building across the street, busting a brick wall and shattering glass, granting Bane a straight shot to his target.

“I go with plan B, then.” Zion launched across the distance, too, drew back his elbow and threw a punch.

Bane raised his arm to block. The metal glove shattered every bone in his hand, pain snatching the air from his lungs. An overflow of adrenaline kept him on his feet. With his uninjured hand, he clawed Zion’s gut and confiscated one of his daggers. Blood and intestines poured from the wound.