One thought kept repeating in my mind: not yet.
It wasn’t time.
Nearly, but not yet.
Almost.
Finally, at dawn . . .
“Any time now,” I whispered, sitting up as though pulled by hidden strings.
The adrenaline kicked in, coursing through my body. If I’d been at home, I’d have expected the knock on the door at any moment. There was no point in second-guessing or in waiting. I knew as surely as I always had: he’d come to punish me, and he would enjoy every second.
Weston’s wolf’s eyes snapped open, his head lifting up quickly as I moved. A few others began to rouse as well, and in an instant they all did, watching me silently. I reached below my cot and grabbed my knives, meeting Weston’s wolf’s eyes.
“Get into positions. It’s happening.”
He didn’t question my surety and none of them delayed. They were up immediately, moving as a well-orchestrated team.
I walked toward the dying fire, the center of camp, the place I’d been told to stay while it all went down. Weston had agreed that there was no point in hiding me. He was reluctant to also agree that it would be best to use me as bait, even though we all knew it was true. I was the reason they were coming; I may as well be useful in luring them into Weston’s trap, if one could call it a trap. Traps weren’t usually so very obvious as this.
The first rays of sunlight gently illuminated the sky from behind the horizon. The emberflies took off in a hurry, a wave of dying pinpricks of light.
Sounds of snarls and the snapping of teeth announced their arrival, coming from every direction, surrounding us. Wolves and other animals ran toward us, the wall of furry bodies hellbent on crashing through Weston’s pack. They outnumbered us by two or more to one, their bodies were not as large but their sheer numbers making up any disparity.
I stood ready, my gut churning, watching for the flash of familiar fur working through the others to get to me. I knew it would be him that grabbed me. He’d want to claim the prize.
Teeth flashed and chomped down, someone yelped, another bayed in pain. Someone limped out of the way and a backup quickly took their place, chomping low and snapping the foot of one of our wolves.
“Damn it,” I said in a rush of breath, stepping side-to-side, turning in a circle to try and watch everything at once. I waited for someone to get through, to make a running leap at me. I was ready, my knives poised, no question as to whether I would use them. Survival was ugly. I didn’t mind looking it right in the face.
The largest wolf of all backed slowly toward me, Weston’s head low, his fur standing on end. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, why he was taking himself out of the fray. Bodies churned all around us, lunging at each other, ripping through flesh, splatters of red highlighted by the first rays of the sun. Another yelp and a wolf went down—one of ours. Theirs ran through the sudden hole, four bodies at first, shoving outward to make that hole larger. Others poured in from behind, suddenly putting half of our people on the outside of the circle.
They ran at me, their four legs closing the distance at lightning speed. It was too many for me to handle on my own and Weston stood still now, his nose nearly to the ground.
I didn’t call out to him. In the end, this wasn’t really his problem—Iwasn’t really his problem. I didn’t have time to linger with the feelings of disappointment or hurt.
The wolves quickly circled me and I lashed out, slicing through the flank of one and spinning, sticking another in the side. The first bayed and the second dropped. I stepped toward another, but they were onto me now. They gave me space, dashing around me, faster than I was. And then he was there, materializing like some sort of phantom, walking on two legs through the melee. His eyes were sparkling, manic, his grin pulled wide into a sickly smile.
Alexander.
“Hello Aurelia,” he said, eyeing my knives as he approached. “Long time, no see. I’ve missed you. Plan to put up a fight?”
“I’m not defenseless now, you piece of shit. Come at me.”
He laughed. “With pleasure.”
His people were fast but he was like lightning. He dodged my strike and swung. I bent back just in time, only one of his knuckles glancing across my face. I struck forward with my right and then quickly my left, knowing he’d jerk away from the first but wouldn’t expect me to be as fluid with my non-dominant hand. The blade sank into his shoulder.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth but didn’t stop, slapping that hand away and connecting with a right hook. I twisted to evade the hit but my world exploded in stars, the pain not registering but the blurry vision with black splotches was unavoidable. That eye would swell shut quickly. I had to keep him from doing the same to the other.
He yanked the knife out of his shoulder and tossed it away. I used the time to feint and stick, feint and stick, finding purchase in his other bicep and then connecting with a nice deep slice in his thigh.
“Fuck! You bitch,” he hissed, a vicious punch landing against my ribs. “Who the fuck taught you to work a knife?”
“The idea... of sticking a pointy end... into soft bits... doesn’t require much... brain power,” I panted as I kept working, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ribs. It was his favorite spot to go after. I needed to keep him from doing it again or the fight would be over.
But he was already closing in, a punch landing against my cheek and another into my stomach.
