Without giving himself time to think, Dylan grabbed the cup and flung the hopefully still almost boiling liquid in John’s face.
“Fuck!” John roared, rubbing his eyes and stepping back. As soon as Dylan was free, he made a run for it.
He made it two steps before his foot hit a wet spot, sending his leg flying into the air and landing Dylan on his ass.
“You little shit!” John growled, the words accompanied by the sound of ripping fabric and a roar. Dylan turned to look and then promptly froze in horror at the sight of John shifted into his alpha form.
Dylan jumped to his feet, scrambling away just in time to avoid a swipe from John’s massive claws.
He grabbed a hold of the counter and pulled himself to his feet, coming face to face with the wooden cutting board and oversized knife that August had used when he sliced the bread for their breakfast that morning.
A growl from behind him made the hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck stand up. He grabbed the knife and turned around, gasping when he came face to face with John’s hairy stomach.
The alpha loomed over him, inhumanly tall, sneering down at him and boxing him in against the counter.
“I was going to be so nice to you,” John growled, grabbing Dylan’s chin in his oversized hand and tilting his head up. “But now I think you need to be taught a lesson.”
Dylan felt something huge pressing at his chest, the wet tip dragging over his nipple, and after a moment of horrified confusion, he realized that it was John’s shifted cock.
“Do you feel that?” John tainted. “I’m going to rip you ap-”
Dylan brought the knife down to his stomach, then turned it around and lifted it up with as much force as he could muster as he sliced into John’s cock.
The knife met fleshy resistance, blood spurting and covering his hands, and Dylan managed to cut several inches deep before it got stuck and he ripped it out.
John roared in pain, bringing his fist down and slamming it into Dylan’s shoulder hard enough to send him flying several feet to his left. Dylan landed on his back, still gripping his knife, and let out a scream of terror when John lunged at him.
All Dylan could see was John’s massive teeth coming toward his face, sharp and hungry for blood, his razor-sharp claws extended and ready to rip into Dylan’s flesh and tear him apart. He tried to roll away, but he barely managed to lift his shoulder before John was on him.
John crashed down on top of him, and though Dylan held the knife up to meet him, it was no use. John’s teeth ripped into his neck, the pain blinding, and Dylan went limp as John started to shake him like a dog shaking his favorite chew toy.
The shaking hurt more than the initial biting. Dylan could feel John’s teeth in his neck, and he was surprised by how similar it felt to when August and Ryker had bitten him. It hurt more, sure, and there were none of the wonderful endorphins that his mates always pumped him full of to mute the pain, but the sensation of teeth digging into his neck was essentially the same.
John unclamped his jaw, lifting up on his knees and staring down at Dylan with a hateful expression. Dylan brought his hand up to his bleeding neck, pressing against the wound as they looked at each other.
John swayed, and when Dylan lowered his gaze, he was shocked to see the knife he’d been holding embedded into the alpha’s stomach. It was angled up, entering below his ribs and pushing up into his chest, seated all the way to the hilt.
“You little cunt,” John said, his voice ragged. He reached down and dragged the knife out of his stomach and threw it aside, swaying on his feet. “Fucking omega.”
He fell to the side, and Dylan scrambled out from under him and made a run for it. He stumbled almost immediately, slipping on a pool of blood and crashing painfully to his knees and elbows. Pain radiated up his arms to his shoulders, almost competing with throbbing hurt emanating from his neck.
He rolled over and tried to scramble back, only to freeze at the sight of John still lying on the floor where he’d left him, eyes open and staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.
Pushing his hand against the wound on his neck, Dylan crawled over to John’s abnormally still form, and moving as quickly as he could, he grabbed the knife off the floor where John had dropped it and stabbed it down into the alpha’s neck.
He hit the bone, his slick palm almost making him lose his grip, and lifted the knife up and stabbed him again. Dylan kept stabbing and stabbing until he was exhausted, and he realized that he’d forgotten to keep pressure on the wound on his neck. He was still bleeding, and he was starting to feel light headed.
Pushing to his feet, Dylan realized that he was far beyond light headed. The room spun, and the edges of his vision were starting to go black. He stumbled over to the counter and steadied himself, grabbing a kitchen towel and pressing it against his neck as hard as he could.
He stared at John’s mutilated body. The alpha was still shifted, his enormous body looking like something out of a horror movie, and all of a sudden it hit Dylan that he’d murdered the Northwestern pack alpha.
He was in so much trouble.
Walking over to the fridge, Dylan tried to come up with some sort of plan. He needed to run away, but to be able to do that, the room needed to stop spinning. He needed liquids to replace the blood he’d lost, and water wasn’t going to cut it.
Leaving bloody streaks all over the handle of the fridge, Dylan reached inside and grabbed a carton of milk. He set it down on the counter, undid the cap, and lifted it to his mouth to start drinking.
“Jesus Christ.”
