Love And Betrayal | ✔️

48. In the jaws of the big, bad wolf (II)

"This is your life and
it is ending one moment at a time."

- Fight Club (1999)

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LIGHTNING FORKS ACROSS the sky. Thunder rumbles and the rain comes pouring down. But the see-through roof holds and I stay dry.

One by one, faceless shadows begin to form - some multiplying, some popping out of nowhere as they surround me from every side.

I watch as the shadows take the the shape of wolves. Huge rogues with ash colored fur and eyes as dark as obsidian. Rage simmers under them, waiting to be unleashed. They bare their teeth, fresh blood drips from their canines. Filth layers their fur, emitting a disgusting stench.

A terrible sight to behold.

Illusions, I remind myself. Only illusions.

They are twenty.

I am one.

I have two swords strapped to my back and a dagger tucked into each boot. Too late, I realize I should have gotten the gun. Even if I am no pro, half a dozen decent shots in a rogues chest would be enough to put them down. Shame, Luna Tessa took it before me.

But no matter. If I use what I have efficiently, I might still walk out of this alive.

I crack my knuckles. Rolling my shoulders, body crouched forward, I'm ready for the fight.

The first one pounces - black eyes glinting with malice, jaws stretched wide.

I wait.

He leaps and I duck just in time.

–Low enough to avoid a collision. Too late, he realises this, but the momentum propels him forward and his body sails over my head before crashing on the floor with a thud. I spring back on my feet and whirl around on him.

We stare at each other.

Come. I beckon. Taunting. Come and get me.

With a vicious snarl he pounces again.

This time, I hit. My fist meet with the point between his eyes, knowing it will disorient him for a few seconds.

He staggers back on unsteady paws.

I use the seconds to my advantage. Moving swiftly, I jump on top of him and elbow him in the back of his neck. His legs give way and he collapses to the ground. I jam my fingers in his eyes. Blood leaks from his sockets as he throws his head back and lets out a howl of agony.

I slam his head on the ground.

It explodes. Blood sprays on my face.

And the howling stops.

One down. Nineteen to go.

The next few minutes are a blur as I tackle them one after the other. First, they come one by one, but soon change tactics and start charging at me in twos and threes.

Parry, move, strike–over and over.

Some conk out with a single blow to their skulls. Some I kick in the groin when their snouts gets too close to my face. With strangled whimpers they let me go. Their breaths smelled so foul, I find myself cringing when they get too close. Some, I simply break their necks. I feel their splintering bones under my fingertips, count as their breaths stutter, slow then stop.

Power and adrenaline surges through my veins. I relish in the pain in my muscles and the rusty smell permeating the room as I paint it red with blood.