Page 49 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)
Chapter Forty-Eight
It is as if James and I are shadows moving stealthily toward our destination, unseen beneath the cloak of night.
The moon hangs high, casting a pale, luminescent light onto the tunnels of the mountain.
After last night’s ordeal, we recuperated before spending the day trying to find a way past the guards.
It didn’t take us long to realize that King Slavic has all his guards at this place, leaving his kingdom seemingly defenseless.
We also realize we will have to wing it and go in all brute force because we haven’t got time to waste on waiting for back up.
As we approach the entrance to the underground bunker on the mountain’s eastern side, an unexpected sight stops us in our tracks. A line of formidable creatures stands guard, their eyes glowing menacingly in the dark.
“Great, just what we need,” James mutters, and Gnash growls.
My hands clamp down over his muzzle to quiet him.
I hold a finger to my lips and motion for him to sit.
Gnash does reluctantly, his fur standing on end.
They are hybrids, vampire soldiers infused with lycan blood, an unholy combination of strength and speed, but they are outmatched, especially when James is old as dirt and they don’t stand a chance against full blooded lycan king.
Our attack is swift and brutal. We plunge into the fray, bodies colliding and claws slashing. Despite their nature, the hybrids are caught off guard by our assault. We exploit this advantage, using it to overpower them.
Despite our efforts of trying not to alert the entire guard fleet to our whereabouts, one gets away, and the situation starts to spiral out of control when he alerts the others.
My body is weakening, and my senses are dimming. A wave of pain courses over every muscle in my body, and I stumble, my strength faltering. James is at my side instantly, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me upright while he kicks a guard away who was about to attack me.
“She’s shifting,” I groan in agony. Hearing this, James gasps but is forced to abandon me, shoving me at the wall while he fights more approaching guards.
“Regan, stay with me,” he pleads, his eyes mirroring my own worry.
I am running out of time. I try to nod to assure him I’m okay, but the effort is too much as I wait for the wave of pain to leave.
I know we should have tried last night. Rest was something I shouldn’t have taken.
The curse ravaging me alerts me to her change, almost as if mocking me, telling me that death is coming for me.
I feel a surge of power, a tidal wave of primal energy, and I know undoubtedly—Zirah has shifted.
James takes the lead, plunging back into the fight as more guards flood the tunnel, and I stumble over a discarded body on the floor.
My uncle is a force of nature, his moves precise and lethal.
One thing becomes crystal clear as my vision blurs and my consciousness wavers.
The rescue mission has just turned into a race against time, and we cannot afford to lose.
Sticking my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, the sound eerie in the tunnel as it bounces off the stone walls.
A second later, I hear Gnash tearing into the tunnels behind us.
His fur brushes my leg as he helps James take down the remaining guards.
I lean against the rocky wall, trying to catch my breath, waiting for the wave of nausea and dizziness to pass.
When it does, we plunge headlong into the labyrinthine bowels of the underground bunker, our footfalls echoing off the grim, gray rock walls.
The tunnels resemble a complex beehive, a twisted maze of corridors. The musty smell of damp earth mingles with the metallic tang of fresh blood as we leave corpses behind in every tunnel.
The humming sound of activity is distant yet uncomfortably close—like the incessant buzzing of a hornet’s nest. We dart from shadow to shadow, every nerve strung taut. James leads the way, his movements swift and fluid, his senses honed on the task at hand.
When we reach a crossroads in the tunnels, I glance at James. “Which way?” He debates for a moment before leading us to the right, and by the time we hit the next fork in the tunnel, the guards’ footfalls grow louder behind us.
Ahead, the tunnel splits, veering in two distinct directions, but the wolves, seem to have picked up Zirah’s scent.
We follow them down the right side of the tunnel until James suddenly skids to a stop.
His muscles coil in anticipation. I follow his gaze, my heart thudding in my chest as I take in the sight before us.
“Seriously, a little fucking help would be nice, Litha. It’s your daughter I am trying to save,” I curse at the dead witch under my breath, talking to thin air as if she can hear me.
We’ve stumbled into a part of the tunnel that seems to be a central hub. It opens into a massive cavern with fridges, tables, lockers, and TVs covering the walls. But there’s also a horde of vampire guards, and their eyes gleam maliciously in the low light as we come to a stop.
“You’re really making me earn my redemption, or is this another game of my condemnation,” I hiss at the Fates. Without missing a beat, James and I spring into action.
We’re a whirlwind of fury and desperation, our attacks synchronized as if we’re extensions of each other.
James slashes through a guard, while I send another sprawling with a swift kick, knocking down two others as if they were bowling pins.
Our struggle is punctuated by the sickening crunch of bones and hissing vampires meeting their end.
Gnash and Hunter plunge into the massacre.
Despite our swift onslaught, more guards swarm forward. We fight back-to-back, the line between friend and foe blurred in this dance of death. But my strength is waning, each swing and hit takes energy I don’t have to waste.
The animal within me stirs restlessly, scratching, clawing at the walls of my consciousness.
I feel James wobble, his strength draining, yet he fights on with relentless determination while Gnash and Hunter tear into those I don’t see coming.
Gnash, I know, can sense our imminent deaths. He can sense my time is running out.