Apocalypse Baby

Freya's fury burned hotter than the pain in her leg.

Micah's betrayal was a cowardly, desperate move—a dagger to her leg to ensure she'd be the one left behind.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the wound, blood pooling beneath her.

Ezekiel caught sight of the attack and clenched his fists in anger, his jaw tightening.

He looked like he was about to act, but then his gaze flicked forward.

His resolve hardened.

Helping Freya now could cost him his life.

He forced himself to stay focused and take another step.

Dorion, on the other hand, snickered. "Guess I'm not the only one willing to play dirty to survive," he muttered, amused by the chaos.

Baranga's fiery eyes remained locked on Ezekiel and Dorion, its massive form moving menacingly toward them.

This shift in attention left Micah and Freya behind—an opening they could use to move.

But Freya's situation was dire.

Her leg throbbed with sharp, relentless pain, and the wound made it nearly impossible to stand.

She realized she couldn't take even a single step with the blade still lodged in her flesh.

Her hands shot to the dagger.

She gritted her teeth, determined to act.

One hand pressed firmly over her mouth to stifle the scream threatening to erupt.

With a deep breath, she yanked the blade free in one swift motion.

Pain exploded through her leg like fire.

Tears streamed down her face as she fought against the urge to thrash and cry out.

Every muscle in her body screamed for release.

Then, Baranga's glowing eyes snapped toward her.

The beast had noticed her movement.

Freya's breath caught in her throat.

She forced herself to stay completely still, even as the pain in her leg threatened to overwhelm her.

Her lips trembled against her palm, but she didn't make a sound.@@novelbin@@

Freya's muffled cries of pain escaped under her arm as she glared at Micah, her fury unwavering despite the agony shooting through her leg.

Blood dripping onto the ground.

Ahead, Ezekiel and Dorion took cautious steps forward.

Baranga's blazing eyes followed them, its monstrous head swiveling in their direction.

Freya exhaled slowly, relieved that the beast's attention wasn't on her—for now.

Then, behind her, the sound of a footstep broke the tense silence.

Freya's eyes snapped to Micah, who had taken a step forward.

She turned sharply, her glare like daggers piercing through him.

The rage bubbling within her almost made her forget the pain in her leg.

For a split second, all she could think about was lunging at him and plunging the dagger he'd left in her leg straight into his throat.

But she knew better.

Any rash move now would cost her everything.

Micah, noticing her deadly stare, held up his hands as if pleading for forgiveness.

His face twisted into an apologetic expression, but his words only fanned the flames of her anger.

"Listen... I'm really, really sorry, Freya, but you gave me no option," he said, his voice trembling with faux sincerity.

"You piece of shit!" Freya hissed, her voice low and venomous. "Say one more word, and I swear I'll kill you!"

Micah flinched but didn't back down.

"I'm sorry! I really am!" he repeated, his tone desperate.

Freya clenched her fists, shaking with fury.

Every nerve in her body screamed to silence him, but the trial demanded her focus. She couldn't afford to let her anger control her—not yet.

Up ahead, Ezekiel and Dorion moved again, and Baranga's attention shifted with them.

Micah took advantage of the moment and stepped forward again, inching closer to Freya's position.

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"Can you walk? I really need you to be able to walk. So I can make it to the end."

Micah's voice had a pitiful tone, but his words carried a selfish edge that made Freya's blood boil.

Freya frowned, biting her lip in frustration.

Her glare never left Micah.

If it came down to just the two of them still in the trial, she'd rather die than let him use her as a pawn for his survival.

Baranga's attention returned to Ezekiel and Dorion up ahead, the beast's fiery eyes tracking their every cautious step.

Micah seized the opportunity and stepped forward, moving dangerously close to Freya.

Too close.

Freya's muscles tensed as she realized how close he was—close enough to strike.

And he didn't hesitate.

"Hey, Freya, you need to keep moving. I need you to—"

THUD!

Before Micah could finish, Freya pushed up with her hands, twisting her body, and drove her foot backward with everything she had. Her heel slammed into Micah's chest.

"Ummph!"

Micah let out a strangled gasp as the force of the kick knocked him off his feet. He stumbled backward, his arms flailing before he crashed to the ground.

Groaning, Micah clutched his chest, his face contorted in pain. His eyes were wide with shock, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"No!" he shouted, his voice trembling with panic.

His breathing quickened as the beast's fiery gaze fell squarely on him.

"No... no!" he stammered, his voice trembling.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, paralyzed with fear.

Baranga's massive hand began to rise, a searing glow emanating from its claws as flames sparked to life. The air around Micah grew hot, the fiery judgment about to descend.

Micah's terror reached its peak. He screamed, his voice shrill and desperate.

"No! No! This isn't fair! You should kill her instead!"

He spun around, pointing a shaky finger at Freya, his face contorted with rage and panic.

Freya, still propped awkwardly on the ground from her earlier kick, stared at him with pure disdain.

She was in pain, her leg throbbing, but she didn't care.

She met his gaze with an unflinching glare, as if daring him to keep talking.

The corners of her mouth curled in disgust.

"You bitch!"

Micah spat venomously, his desperation morphing into fury.

With nothing left to lose, he lunged toward Freya, arms outstretched in a frenzied attack.

He had abandoned all sense of reason, consumed by his anger and fear.