Jag’s face tightens, but instead of addressing me, he gestures at the block, redirecting everyone’s attention to my dad and the executioner.

My dad’s guards force his head down onto the bloodstained wood.

“No!” I scream, and the sound is guttural, ripped straight out of my heart. I struggle against my guards with wild movements, but however I thrash, I can’t break their hold on my arms.

Jag’s eyes twinkle as he walks up to me on his way back to his throne. He leans in, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “You will die last, watching your father and every one of your friends go before you.”

For a heart-stopping second, I remember the coded message Ash was reluctant to give me—Harry’s dead and there will be retaliation—Jag’s setting a trap for us in his dungeon, hurting my friends, this. After soaking in the expression of horror on my face, Jag calmly walks back to his throne, confident once more.

In desperation, I struggle harder against my guards. “Dad!” I yell as the executioner takes his position.

I throw my shoulders backward and kick my legs up in the air, as though I were doing a backflip. The guards manage to support my body weight, but I lean so far back that I’m practically inverted, giving me enough momentum to kick the guard on my right in the face. There is a crunching sound and blood comes pouring out of his nose. He drops me, causing the other guard to lose his footing, and I hit the ground hard on my side. But before I can right myself, the stumbling guard regains his grip and yanks me to my knees by my hair.

“Raise your blade!” Jag commands the executioner, victory ringing in his voice.

The executioner lifts his axe with both hands, the blade hovering over him for a split second, and the entire room seems to pause with it. Then he drops his arms, the blade whipping through the air so fast and with so much force that no one has time to react as it changes direction—slicing the bouncer’s head right off.

A scream stops in my throat so abruptly that I choke. Blood sprays outward and the crowd lurches back. It’s so quiet that when the bouncer’s head and body hit the floor, the noise echoes, like the sound is being broadcast through a loudspeaker.

I stare unblinkingly at my dad.

Then everything happens at once. The guards throw open the door to yell for backup and half the room looks toward the exit, not like they’re scared, just like they want no part of this fight. The executioner doesn’t waste a moment. He swings his axe again, taking down one of the guards holding my dad.