Nike watched from a short distance as Kray let loose on Akheron. She flinched a bit, startled in how much he was going at their uncle. She didn't pity him, he deserved it, and more, for what he'd done. But soon her anger was back. The sounds of his condescending and menacing laughter echoed through her and then she willed Kratos' fists to impact even harder.
Any love for Akheron Nike had was fading away with each moment more of the laughter, and she wasn't entirely surprised to see Zee's handgun either. It was then that she realised that her free hand was gently resting against the hilt of the knife in the pocket of her cargo pants. Victory didn't intend to use it but it was there nonetheless. The gun would be more effective.
She didn't blink twice at the mention of their father. And Zee was right. Akheron meant far less to any of them than he had and they had watched as their father was killed. "Zee is right," she said softly. "Don't kill him Kray. He doesn't deserve getting away that easily." Nike slid her other arm around Zelos' back, leaning into him, holding him tight as they continued to look on.