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“Just a little more,” Maya whispered.

The heat in his palm deepened. Spread up his arm. His heart began to pound?—

“Just breathe,” Maya whispered.

Max breathed.

A few minutes later, she patted the back of his hand and said, “Let go. You can let go now, Max.”

He let go. Opened his eyes.

The warhead was glowing brighter. Swirling with all different colors of magic. White, blue, magenta, black, violet?—

And red. The magic of the Inferno.

Max smiled at his sister. “It worked,” he said, his voice hoarse and coated with surprise.

Maya smiled back, tears sparkling in eyes that glowed with warmth. “You did it, Max.”

When tomorrow arrived,and they finished charging the warhead—right on time—Travis and the others fastened their weapons belts in the foyer of the House of Violet and finished programming their headsets.

In exactly twelve hours, the military would be hitting Yveswich with missiles of their own, the magic of the anima mundi having the ability to pass right through the destructive forcefield and obliterate what was left of Ker’s capital—and all the people in it.

According to Roark and the intel he was receiving in secret while on a leave of absence, the Fleet would be aiming strategically, avoiding the Control Tower. They wanted to keep the forcefield up?—

While destroying everything else. Just in case their plan didn’t work.

Assholes.

Travis flicked on his mic. “Hey, Atlas,” he said. “You there?”

A crackle. And then: “I’m here.”

“Perfect. We’re just about to head out.”

“All right. I’ll be here if you need me.”

He flicked off the headset.

“All you dipshits ready?” Malakai asked as he tied his hair back.

“Ready,” Travis said. The others echoed him.

Malakai inclined his head toward the door. “Let’s move.”

Max opened the door, and together they walked out into the brisk, dark city, the air pierced by the guttural snarls and howls of thousands of monsters?—

And prepared to enter the abyss.

102

Bright Penthouse

ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE

“And then Ifound this passage here,” Sabrine said. “Listen.”

Propped up on pillows in bed at Heaven’s Gate, Loren watched Sabrine on the video call on her laptop that was open on her thighs. The wolf cracked open a big, leather-bound book that was so old it was crumbling.