Page 24 of Rising Reign (The Wolves of Crescent Creek #3)
WREN
The bin I held tumbled out of my arms as the hold on my hair tightened, and my whole body was jerked to the side. Glass shattered, cans clattered, and the bin itself flew to the ground.
I moved on instinct, my elbow flying back into my attacker’s gut. He grunted, and his hold on my hair loosened just enough for me to pull free. I whirled, hands moving in front of my face into a defensive position.
The man cursed, pulling a blade from his pocket. It was then that I really took him in: longish, stringy hair that looked unwashed, dirty clothes, brown eyes with pupils the size of pinpricks.
It wasn’t Bastian or one of his men. It wasn’t anyone associated with Red River. Instead, it was someone else from my past. The one member of the Death Walkers MC who’d managed to escape Brix’s wrath. Their second-in-command, Dent .
He sneered at me as he flicked out his blade. “You ruined everything, you cunt. And now you’re gonna feel that pain.”
Dent lunged forward, but I quickly dodged to the side, pulling my own blade from my back pocket. I felt the carving in the handle, KINGSTON in intricate letters, press into my palm. It was the same blade that had saved my life with Marcelle.
There was trust in that. A belief that the weapon would carry me through because it had before.
Dent let out a sound that was something between a snort and a scoff. “You think you can go up against me? That knife isn’t going to protect you.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered as I dodged another of his blows.
Dent spun, swiping his blade through the air. He was quicker than he should’ve been and more forceful, too. It was almost beyond human strength.
And then I saw his eyes again. I remembered what all the Death Walkers were mixed up in. Human trafficking. Drugs. If Dent was on amphetamines, it could make him a match for my shifter strength.
I cursed as his blade swiped again, this time catching me across the forearm. Pain bloomed, but I managed to land an answering kick that sent Dent stumbling back several steps.
His eyes widened and then narrowed again. “You’re one of them. Some mutant freak. Aren’t you?”
“I’m something you never should’ve crossed.” Memories of my time in their hold flashed in my mind. The agony of their torture. The cruelty of their words.
Dent let out a low, ugly laugh. “I’m going to enjoy killing you. Bleeding every ounce of blood from your body. Feeling your breaths slow and then stop altogether. I just wish I had more time, endless hours to make you feel every ounce of pain possible.”
Dent charged then. I slowed my breathing, letting my wolf take the lead.
My shifter vision let me see the attack before it landed, the arc his arm would take, the trajectory of the blade.
I slipped under the blow, my knife following through and landing square between his shoulder blades before stumbling forward.
A choking sound emanated from Dent as he started to fall. He twisted, his eyes wide in shock as he clawed at his neck, his blade clattering to the cement. I must’ve gotten his airway.
Panic filled his brown eyes, and he made a gurgling sound. I leaned over him, getting close. “You should’ve run when you had the chance.”
Dent’s eyes widened again, and I saw so much fear there. But I didn’t let it stop me. I called on my wolf, letting claws lengthen from my fingertips. And then I plunged my hand into his chest and tore out his heart.
Everything stilled in the human. Wide eyes. Stark-white face. Mouth open.
And then, there was nothing at all.
It was more kindness than he had ever shown me. A quicker death than he deserved. But I wouldn’t become like the monsters who haunted me.
Dropping the heart to the pavement, I wiped my hand clean on the man’s shirt and straightened.
Rhys stood there, arms crossed over his chest. “We really need to work on your technique.”
I gaped at the vampire. “I could’ve used a little help.”
He simply shrugged. “I needed to see where your battle skills were at. Not in some sparring ring, but in real time.”
A sick feeling swept over me. “Did you know he was here?”
Rhys plucked a piece of invisible lint off his shirt. “I might’ve seen an altercation taking place in a vision.”
“You what?” a new voice snarled. Puck prowled through the back door and headed toward Rhys. “You knew she was going to be attacked, and you did nothing?”
Rhys held up a hand. “Just relax, I?—”
“Relax?” Puck bit out. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”