Page 86 of Rescued By the Beast
Anger hits me along with fear.
Cold iron. Of course. He never planned a fair fight.
He knew that, face to face, in a brute force fight, he wouldn't stand a chance.
"Son of a bitch..." I growl, feeling my legs grow heavier, my vision darkening at the edges. "That's against the rules."
He laughs.
"The rules don't apply here, bastard. You're not a wolf like us."
He lunges again and I instinctively dodge, but I'm slower. My body screams against the movement, but I ignore the pain.
I can't stop now.
If I fall, I'm dead.
I need to surprise him, find an opening, a sneak attack.
I make a hesitant move, feigning an exhausted stumble, and wait for the right moment. When he lunges, I quickly lower myself, digging my claws into his abdomen with all the strength I have left. Liam chokes, his eyes widening in surprise. I don't give him room to breathe. My claws rise as I lift my body, tearing the skin of his torso until they dig into his shoulders, then I pull him towards me.
I feel the movement of his forearms rising, ready to strike me in the back, but I waste no time, opening my mouth and lunging at his neck. My teeth sink deep into my half-brother's throat, and he lets out a muffled yelp, his poisonous claws scratching my back, his limbs weakened by my attack.
I know that if I don't sink my fangs deeper, soon I won't have the strength to finish what I started.
He will recover, and I will not.
So I bite down hard, tearing flesh and tendons, his blood flooding my mouth, dripping hot and salty down my chin. Liam's body shudders, and a gurgling sound escapes his throat, muffled by pain. Even so, he doesn't give up, trying to hit me, fighting with all he has left.
I do the same, gathering the last vestiges of strength I have left, and with a quick movement of my head, I snap his neck. His body immediately goes limp, lifeless, his weight hanging beneath me.
With a brutal thrust, I throw him away, and his body flies like a rag doll through the air before hitting the ground with a thud.
I breathe with difficulty, my muscles and bones protesting with every movement.
My snout is drenched in warm blood, but the metallic taste no longer affects me. What consumes me now is weakness, creeping through my limbs like something dark, sucking my essence away with every passing second.
I have won.
But the circle of wolves around me does not dissolve. No head bows in submission. No acceptance of victory.
Something is wrong.
I turn just in time to see two of them advancing, their eyes glowing with raw fury. Sons of bitches. This isn't part of the duel. This shouldn't be happening.
I growl in warning, my fur bristling, my muscles tense, but they don't back down. They don't hesitate. And then I realise, they're not just ignoring the code of conduct. They're breaking it.
The circle of wolves closes around me. One step. Then another. Every muscle in my body screams in exhaustion, the pain tearing through my flesh like red-hot iron. My heart pounds against my ribs, the only certainty pulsing in my mind.
If I stay, I die.
I growl in defiance, baring my bloodied teeth, but they do not retreat. Fierce eyes shine in the darkness, fangs exposed, and then howls echo through the forest.
The first ones attack.
Two huge wolves leap at once and I throw myself between them, dodging by a hair's breadth. My shoulder collides with one of them, pushing him into the air, throwing off his jump. The other barely has time to react before my claws tear into his flank in a desperate blow. He falls to the ground yelping, but I don't stop to see if he gets up.
The circle hesitates for a second and I take advantage of the opening. I gather momentum, every fibre of my being focused on a single goal: to run.
