His dark voice trails down her spine, lighting a path of desire that renders her breathless. "If only I were in a position of no consequence."
Alia's breath wavers when the pad of his thumb slowly glides across her bottom lip.
"Then I could give in...
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"PTSD is a whole-body tragedy, an integral human event of enormous proportions with massive repercussions." - Susan Pease Banitt
•
1.5 hours later
Splatters of blood decorate the concrete walls. Bloody fists slam into bodies, broken bones leading to hisses and growls through clenched teeth. Wolves limp down the silent paths, cradling disfigured arms whilst listening for sounds of movement.
The prospect of exiting the maze has now become an impossibility. The finalists caught on to the false nature of the round after an hour passed with no sign of escape. It didn't take long before they turned on each other, smashing limbs into concrete to take out the competition. It was a decision of panic, for they were desperate to end the final before they fell under a blindfolded gaze. But when the numbers fell from twenty-six to fifteen, Valen intervened.
He appeared behind them, their bodies resembling piles of swinging limbs, and plucked one of the wolves off of another. The female's legs dangled in the air, limbs frozen from the grip holding the back of her shirt. Horrified eyes could only watch as Valen brought his other hand to her throat. His fingers wrapped around the sweaty flesh, bandaged eyes staring at the stiff finalists whilst he tightened his grip. The girl writhed in his hold, and before she could raise her hands to peel his fingers away, a low whisper warmed her temple.
"Touch my hand, and it will cost you yours."
She didn't listen.
Before her fingers could touch skin, he released her throat and threw her into one of the walls. Concrete cracked underneath the force with blood remaining after her unconscious body dropped to the floor. Valen flexed his fingers at his side, the souring of his mood perceivable to every competitor.
"Your objective has changed." He slowly rolls his neck to the side to relieve the tension within. "The last wolf I touch, wins."
It was all the finalists needed to hear before they took off running. They dispersed in seconds, the sounds of their sprinting feet echoing through the silent training hall.
One by one, Valen hunted them down. He observed how they reacted to him, whether they would plead for respite or run. Those who ran only managed a few steps before he yanked them back and sent them to the ground. Those who begged were met with a cold, unforgiving silence, and he spared them no mercy when he grabbed their faces and slammed their heads into concrete.
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