Free The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) by Anna Abner Page B

her family and retreated to form a new plan. A better one.
    “You won’t fail me again.” The threat in Olek’s tone was unmistakable. Lose the girl a third time and forfeit your life . Volk’s youthful appearance went a long way in easing tensions, but there were limits.
    If it would’ve helped smooth things over he’d have fallen to his knees in supplication. But that might have been overdoing it.
    The Destroyer sent him a disgusted look. “Choose your punishment.”
    Maks stopped breathing for a split second. He hadn’t been punished in years. Not since the manifesto debacle, during which major news outlets in the West had laughed at them. No one mocked the Destroyer. No one .
    The public ridicule had been Maks’ fault because he’d encouraged publishing it. Releasing it was supposed to humiliate Olek. Maks had known the consequences of making the Destroyer into a joke. It had seemed worth it at the time, but lots and lots of burning flesh had since tempered Maks’ sense of humor.
    Maks stood immediately. To show an instant of hesitation or fear would degrade the position of power he’d worked so hard to gain. And keep.
    “As you wish, my lord.”
    The wall opposite his couch was covered with a myriad of medieval weapons. A sword, a mace, a club, daggers, and for the truly damned a large double-bladed axe. Most of the weapons caused copious bleeding, and Maks didn’t need to draw the attention of any of his less-evolved brethren scattered throughout the abandoned hospital.
    Bones were a bitch to heal, but with no other choice, he lifted the club from its place on the wall. It was a thick, gnarled chunk of wood with one end wrapped in black tape. He offered it to Olek, who accepted it, his face expressionless.
    “Turn around.”
    Maks showed Olek his back. He tried to loosen up and breathe. Taking a hit all tensed up only made it hurt worse.
    Crack. His left knee crumpled, and he collapsed onto his side, his fingers scrabbling for purchase in the frayed carpet.
    Son of a bitch. It would be days before he could walk properly again, he knew from experience. The Destroyer swung his caveman club again and again, bashing up and down Maks’ right side. Bones crackled and popped. His shoulder joint separated.
    Maks locked his jaws together, despite the explosion of pain, and never made a sound. Not a whimper, not a moan, not so much as a peep. It was one of his greatest strengths. It was what had kept him on Olek’s good side all these years.
    Three of the four sons, not to mention Maks’ eleven original comrades, had been weaker men, and now they were all dead or entombed. Nothing disgusted Olek more than hearing a grown man scream in agony.
    Black spots appeared before Maks’ eyes. The pain escalated from intense to almost unbearable. That’s when the club returned to its place on the wall. Maks managed to stand with one smashed knee and a dead right arm. A small victory.
    He’d love to crawl off and tend his wounds in private, but he had to suck it up and stay until dismissed. Another test of both strength and deference.
    Olek gestured to the only chair at the salvaged table. “Convince me I shouldn’t kill you.”
    Maks recognized a new wildness in Olek’s eyes. The guy was losing it. Twenty years of torture had wrecked his mind. He actually believed the seers, and he’d put all his eggs in the Anya basket. Without her and her prophecy, his plans would crumble. The invasion of Las Vegas. His eventual world domination. Maks didn’t know how long the man could go on like this before he lost all reason.
    “Of course, my lord.” Maks dropped into the seat, gently placing his numb right hand in his lap. “She was here.” He touched the words Hoover Dam . “And here.” He pointed at the city of Paradise, Nevada. Pressure built as blood pooled in his lung and tickled the back of his throat. He turned his face away. Spewing on the map would only further irritate Olek. So, he spat blood on the