Emilio shoved his hands deep into his pockets, fists clenched so hard his knuckles ached. It took everything he had not to smash James’s face in. Who the fuck did this? Drag two people you barely knew through a goddamn portal into a world where people got their throats slit during some sick-ass festival?!

And for what? So he could write a cute little article?

Emilio was risking his fucking life so James could crank out some pretentious piece about twisted rituals no one gave a shit about. He couldn’t wrap his head around how someone could be that monumentally stupid. The asshole didn’t even know how to get them back. Hell, the odds of Emilio’s bones getting dug up here in a few hundred years were better than James ever getting that garbage published.

He was still boiling when Juan showed up beside him.
“Where’s James?”

“Beats me.” The guy had stormed off and was probably lost in the crowd by now. “It’s a miracle I didn’t deck him. The only reason I didn’t is because I don’t wanna draw more attention from that dumb fuck over there.” He jerked his head sideways. It felt like that holy jackass was burning a hole through his skull with his eyes. Emilio had caught him staring more than once, and yeah—this shit wasn’t over yet. Every muscle in his body was wound tight. “You get anything useful outta Sawa?”

Juan scanned the crowd. At the sound of the girl’s name, his gaze drifted right. She was standing near the wall with a veiled figure.

“The girl she’s talking to is called Si. Her parents were just murdered.” He swallowed. “Sawa says it’s my job to go look for her sisters.”

Emilio snorted. “Sawa can fuck right off. Until she gets us outta here, we’re not doing shit.”

“She’s not exactly someone you can push around.” Juan sighed. “If she decides we’re being assholes, she’ll just disappear. And then we’re screwed.”

Emilio swore under his breath. He had no clue what their next move was. Get out, cool off, then break into the temple and hunt down the portal? He said as much, but Juan shook his head.

“She says the portal isn’t open anymore. Maybe it only shows up once a month. Or once a year.”

“Fucking hell.” Emilio dragged a hand over his face.

“Come on.” Juan tugged lightly at his arm. “Let’s find James. We gotta stick together.”

“Why the hell should we trust that idiot? We’re in this mess because of him.”

“He wants out too,” Juan said quietly. “Same boat.”

Emilio clenched his jaw. Fine. Starting a fight wasn’t gonna help anyone.

They pushed back into the crowd. Emilio had just spotted the Canadian when the drumming picked up—and then everything went dead silent.

He and Juan froze.

The crowd split apart, giving Emilio a clear view of the platform. The bastard with the ridiculous headdress was standing there now, barking out orders in his bullshit language and pointing straight at him.

Ice slid down Emilio’s spine. He’s not about to have us killed too, right? His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. Armed men everywhere. Had they been there the whole time? Or had this guy finally decided they were fake gods and full of shit?

He didn’t need Sawa to translate. The meaning was written all over the man’s words—and that cold, dead stare. Sweat prickled along Emilio’s back. Could he bullshit his way out of this? Bluffing had to be better than trying to outrun a dozen armed guys in the dark with Juan. He wasn’t a runner. That would end ugly.

He lifted his chin and walked toward the platform.

Sawa met them halfway. Her face gave nothing away.

“So what does His Royal Dipshit want now?”

“He wants you to stand beside him.”

Every instinct in Emilio screamed don’t. He hadn’t known instincts were real, but holy shit—this one was loud.

Still, he stepped up and climbed the stone steps.

James and Juan followed in silence.

Sawa stayed below.

Emilio could hear Juan’s breathing behind him—tight, shaky. He wanted to reach back, squeeze his shoulder, tell him it’d be okay. It wouldn’t be, but still. A panic attack right now would only make things worse.

The so-called god addressed the crowd first. People whispered. Stared. No one threw anything or started yelling, so at least they weren’t being dragged off as frauds yet.

“His Holiness says there are many gods,” Sawa translated. “And he’s not convinced you’re one of them.”

Great. Emilio met her eyes. Here it comes.

“He wants you to prove your divinity by bringing him the body of a shamuqanchis.”

“A what?”

“A mythical creature. Caiman body. Jaguar head. Condor wings.”

Emilio barked a humorless laugh. “So you want me to fetch a monster that doesn’t fucking exist? That’s your brilliant test?”

“Since you decided you’re a god,” James muttered, “he probably thinks you can just pull one out of your ass.”

Emilio ground his teeth. He wanted to punch that smug bastard so bad it hurt. “Tell him we’ve got better shit to do. If he doesn’t want us here, we’ll bounce.”

Sawa translated.

The ruler shot Emilio a look so cold it damn near stopped his heart.

A nasty grin spread across the man’s face. Emilio’s shoulders dropped. Yeah. He’s not letting us go.

The man lifted his hand. Warriors rushed towards the platform.

Emilio clenched his fists, ready to swing—but no one touched him.

Not him.

When he turned, Juan and James were already being grabbed. Neither fought it. Emilio saw fear in the soldiers’ eyes—fear of the possible gods, or fear of their ruler. Hard to tell. Either way, the fact that the two men didn’t resist made the guards relax.

Emilio faced the ruler again.

“They’ll be put to work on the construction of a new temple,” Sawa translated.

“What?!” Slave labor. That’s what that was. And no way in hell were Juan or James built for hauling stone. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

His protest didn’t matter. Until he proved he was a god, Emilio didn’t mean shit here. Jaw locked, he watched his best friend being dragged away.

He wanted to shout—to promise Juan he’d fix this, get him out. The words died in his throat.

He couldn’t kill a monster that didn’t exist.

And he sure as hell couldn’t free two people on his own.

Rage burned through him as he stared down the ruler. The bastard looked pleased.

Emilio flipped him off—a gesture the guy thankfully didn’t understand—and jumped off the platform. His first instinct was to chase Juan, but guards blocked the path.

So he turned and walked the other way. Away from the square. Away from the temple. Away from the asshole who’d just enslaved his friend.

His eyes burned, but he refused to cry.

He walked. And walked. Through the city, running from everything, until the sea stopped him. He collapsed into the sand, scooped it up with shaking hands, crushed it between his fingers, and screamed.

This was such a fucking nightmare.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

That creature hunt was bullshit. Even if it did exist, he couldn’t catch a rabbit, let alone something that’d eat him in one bite. He wasn’t some action hero.

And even though he hated most people, it hit him hard now—how fucked it was to be completely alone.

The only person he could even talk to was Sawa. And without that messed-up kid, he wouldn’t even be here.

He’d rather choke than ask her for help.

I have to do this alone.

And by every god that probably didn’t exist—he had no fucking clue how.