Page 18 of Awry
Then awareness comes rushing back with a snap, as if I’ve been forcibly shoved forward into a moment of clarity.By the universe.
Breaker ruts against me, though there’s no way his dick is working anymore, nor has he bothered to get my clothing off.
Guided by theknowing, I keep reaching, up and then around Chains’s leather-clad leg.
Breaker’s jaw widens as he hunches over me — at least two feet taller than me in his berserker form — and tries to rip out my throat.
Muta strikes from the side, slamming into Breaker’s face and sinking his fangs into his uninjured eye.It’s enough to momentarily stop the berserker from finishing me.And just long enough for my hand to close around the hilt of a single-edged, rune-marked, six-inch blade hidden in a narrow side pocket of Chains’s pants.
The blade theknowingcoaxed me toward.
I know, because that coaxing falls away as soon as my hand closes around the hilt.Though it’s also possible that death has encroached enough to muddle my sense of knowing.
“Please don’t be steel or iron,” I murmur.Then I swing the blade up and back, slashing across with my last remaining strength.
I slit Breaker’s throat.
Not steel.Nor iron.Maybe silver?Or even titanium.And it’s definitely essence wrought.
Because Cataclysm Motorcycle Club brothers or not, Chains keeps himself armed against a berserker.
Blood gushes from Breaker’s slit throat.
I close my mouth and eyes, but a bunch gets up my nose.And for more than a moment, I’m drowning on top of already not-so-slowly dying.
Impossible to kill when fully transformed or not, the berserker gasps, gurgles, and then collapses on top of me.
Something snaps in my upper back.My spine, no doubt.
It doesn’t hurt.
But then, I’d already known I wasn’t getting out of this alive.
I knew it from the moment I forced theknowing, from the moment it had truly hit me in the cafe.The moment I’d seen Presh’s purple-tinged eyes and the rope burns on her wrists.
“Worth it,” I mumble, trying to not get too much of Breaker’s blood in my mouth.“Precious … worth it.”
I didn’t even need the soul-deep connection that had snapped into place between us in the bathroom to know the value of Presh’s safety, of her life.
Despite the pain, despite the repercussions, Precious is worth dying for.
I lose some time.Maybe thirty seconds or a minute, becoming aware that Presh, sobbing against the dirty gag, is trying to roll Breaker off me.Her hands are still tied behind her back, shoulder braced against his side.But her knees just keep digging deeper into the sand.I can’t help because my legs and one arm don’t work anymore.The pain is harsh, all encompassing.More so than I’ve ever experienced.
Presh finally manages to shift Breaker mostly off me.But right as she does, I feel the other asshole, Chains, take a breath.The back of my head is resting against his belly.
He’s not dead.
Presh needs to run.Leave me and run.
“Stop, stop,” I gasp.
Presh pauses.Still on her knees, she hunches over my head and shoulders, blinking down at me.I make my free arm work.I still have the blade in my hand.I get it under her gag and slice it off, scoring a red line across the side of her face that isn’t swollen.Chains slapped her hard.Maybe multiple times.
“Turn.”The word is garbled around a mouthful of blood.My blood now, I suspect, not Breaker’s.
Presh turns, her movements slow and pained.I somehow manage to slice through the zip ties on her wrists, though not without cutting her again.Her hands are practically purple.
I let go of the blade then.It tumbles into the blood-soaked sand.
