Page 66 of Wrongfully Magicked
In the middle of the room is the girl who abandoned us.
Gone is the cocky smile. She’s huddled against the far wall, broken and bleeding. One of her wings dangles awkwardly behind her, and bits and pieces of it are gone, giving the image of a stained glass window missing a few panes. Her hair is matted, like she’s been doused with something, and I see a man holding what looks like a fire extinguisher.
Hundreds of bugs lie scattered about her, many of them dead or dying, their bodies twitching as if trying to get to her, but they can’t.
The guards have their backs to us, the smaller beastlings obviously pack animals of some sort.
We could easily walk past them without alerting them to our presence, since the guards are totally focused on their prey, but my feet are rooted to the spot.
As much as she might be an ass, no one deserves that fate.
I glance toward Stryker, only to see him scowling back at me. Emphatically shaking his head, he points a clawed finger toward the exit.
I grimace and shake my head, and his expression hardens. A calculating look enters his blue eyes, as if he’s debating if he could get away with dragging me off, and I back away, suddenly wary.
A silent chuff escapes him, then his shoulders sag, and he glances back into the room where they are torturing the girl like it’s a game. Determination hardens his face, his ears swivel, and his body tenses like he’s going to pounce.
Shit!
I glance around for a weapon, anything I can use to defend myself, only to find rocks.
More and more rocks.
I crouch, heft a decent-sized stone, then nod toward Stryker.
He lifts three fingers in the air, slowly counting down, and I allow my powers to flare to life.
Three.
Two.
One.
I shoot to my feet and charge out of the darkness just a step behind Stryker.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STRYKER
She’s going to get me killed.
That doesn’t stop me from following her lead. I might not have known Anita for long, but I discovered she doesn’t run from danger. She could easily walk away, but she has integrity.
For a mage, it’s quite remarkable.
I’ve never known one to risk their life for a dirty beastling, especially one who betrayed her not long ago, and my chest puffs with pride that fate would select such a magnificent mate for me.
Instead of carting her off over my shoulder and making a run for it like my instincts demand, I slowly give a countdown. When I reach one, I pounce. Conscious of Anita following just a step behind, I barrel into the room and tackle as many of the men as possible.
Though they are lean, hyenas are vicious creatures who would eat their own young if they thought it would get them ahead. They are pack animals and can take down much larger prey when they work together. I curse when one man turns intime to see me. Before he can yell out a warning, I plow into four of the five hyenas.
Not waiting for us to land, I swipe out with my claws, removing the throat of the nearest one. We crash to the ground with a nasty thump, a tangle of arms and legs. I keep my ears swiveled toward my mate, so when the remaining guy charges toward her, I throw out my leg, causing him to trip and slam to the ground with a grunt.
But the action cost me.
Two of the hyenas took advantage of my distraction. Fangs sink into my arm and more land in my opposite shoulder, while a third man digs his claws into my side. Roaring in pain, I snarl, then bury my own fangs into the nearest hyena.
The foul taste of rancid meat fills my mouth, adrenaline turning his flesh sour. I clench my jaw against the need to gag, not ready to let my prey go, not when it will only put my mate in more danger. Another set of claws rakes down my back and sides, and I grunt in pain. In retaliation, I jerk my head back and forth, mauling the flesh and ripping the bite clean from his neck and shoulder.
