Every weapon the mortal world had to crush a man was stacked on top of me in that moment, layer after suffocating layer.
I looked at Quinton's face, that smug, sanctimonious mask stretched to its limit.
I looked at Vivian behind him, hand pressed over his mouth in mock horror, eyes glittering with barely concealed excitement.
I looked at my father, pinned facedown on the ground.
And I laughed.
Louder and louder.
In the dead silence of that circle, the sound was unnerving.
Quinton yanked his wrist free, skin crawling. "Have you lost your mind? What the hell are you laughing at?"
I stopped laughing. Slowly raised my head. Glanced at the overcast sky.
"I'm laughing at you," I said quietly. "All of you. You're pathetic."
"You think a few dollars and a few connections mean you control everything?"
"You people. You mortals. What are you, exactly?"
"I am the Thunder Lord."
