Page 117 of Guardians of the Assassins
While distracted, Loki had slunk low to the ground and crept along the wall. She ran after him, her magic giving her a boost ofspeed, but she was too late. Just as she reached him, the beast launched himself around the corner and tackled the nearest guards, taking three of them to the floor.
He pounced on their chests like he was trying to crush a mouse, and she heard ribs cracking, even from a distance. Morgan skidded after him, hearing her mates cursing as they scrambled to catch up.
“Bad dog!” Morgan wagged her finger at Loki and glared at the beast. She gave an exasperated sigh and shot the guards a rueful smile. “Sorry, he just got away from me.”
The elven guards who were already in motion slowed slightly, looking confused for a moment.
It bought her precious seconds for her mates to catch up.
Even as they came around the corner at a run, the elves shook themselves out of their stupor and advanced. Her men didn’t even hesitate, throwing themselves into battle, the two sides clashing. It was a vicious, brutal fight, neither side giving any quarter as swords clashed and punches were thrown.
Though she itched to join the battle, she remained back, knowing she would just be a distraction. She protected the rear and took down any guards that managed to slip through.
Loki remained at her side, tackling anything that got near, throwing bodies around the room until they crashed into stone walls. He used his tail to trip unsuspecting warriors or stab people when they pissed him off.
When one guard raised his sword to Ascher’s unprotected back, the gardog launched himself in the air, his wings flaring wide to give him greater distance, and he barreled into the bastard. He took the soldier to the ground, his teeth locked around the guard’s throat seconds before he ripped it out.
Loki lifted his blood splattered head, and Morgan blew him a kiss. “Good doggie!”
Then she had no more time to do anything but fight as they were overwhelmed.
Despite all their training, they couldn’t win when so vastly outnumbered.
The guys were bloodied, taking brutal blows that would kill weaker men.
Caedmon and Atlas were hypnotizing to watch, moving through the fighters like dancers, barely even touching the ground as they tore through the guards. Ascher was practically smoking, melting swords and burning anyone who got too close. Ryder was a beast, his form bulking up until he towered over everyone, while Draven moved like a shadow, slipping in and out of the soldiers, his blades slashing.
Unfortunately, the elves were excellent fighters, almost evenly matched with her men.
They wouldn’t relent, they wouldn’t retreat.
They would fight to the death to protect the queens.
When Ryder took a nasty blow to the temple that sent him staggering, something inside her snapped. Magic heated her blood and crackled over her skin. The air thickened with menace and the overwhelming need to crush them was almost like a compulsion.
The elves sensed the change, but instead of running, it made her a target and the guards surged toward her all at once. Just as she lifted her hands to cut them down, the howl of wolves came from behind her.
Claws clicked against the stone floors as her wolves flooded the room, not showing an ounce of fear. The metal wolves were unstoppable, nothing penetrating their silver hide. They were ruthless as they savagely took the guards to the ground.
It was a slaughter.
The fight was over in minutes, blood staining the white marble as it spilled across the walls and floor. Bodies littered the room, some of them in such small pieces, they were unrecognizable. It was a gruesome sight, and the pointless loss of life weighed heavily on her soul.
It should’ve never come to this point.
Her men were battered and bruised, littered with cuts that bled freely. Dozens of wolves were injured and limping…except three.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the too still forms of the wolves who had perished during the fight, the sight leaving a gaping hole in her soul.
She glanced at Ryder and saw the same sorrow reflected back.
And a terrible guilt.
“You ordered the wolves to follow us.” Morgan ached to go to him, wanting to comfort him. No one should have to make that decision. “It’s not your fault. If they hadn’t come, chances are we all would’ve died.”
He gave a stiff nod, but she knew it would be a while before he got over the guilt.
“Sorry it took us so long.” Louis glanced up from where he was checking over the injured wolves. “It took us a bit to take down the outer door and follow your trail.”
