A sharp whistle cleaves the night air.
He whirls, his clutch faltering for half a second.
I slam my elbow into his ribs, and he grunts, his hold loosening.I drop to the ground and scramble for the rifle.
Just as my fingers close around it, he rips it away and springs to his feet.Panting, I roll onto my back and meet his soulless gaze.He stares back, aiming the gun at my face.
I’m fucked.
He used to love me, I think.When we were kids, when our parents died, he protected me like it was his purpose in life.Then everything changed.Hechanged.
He became this.
I let my head rest on the pavement and force my muscles to relax.Our eye contact hangs, throbbing with history and pain.So much pain it’s hard to hold his gaze.But if he’s going to kill me, I want him to look into my eyes as he does it.
His finger twitches on the trigger.
My lungs shrivel.
As I wait for my death, a shadow lunges from the darkness.Fast and silent, the silhouette crashes into Jag with a force of pure violence.
They hit the cement with a sickening thud, the impact echoing through the night like a gunshot.In a blur of limbs, they explode into a brutal, unrelenting brawl.
I don’t realize it’s Wolf until I see the glint of his eyes.He moves like a feral animal, his hand locking around Jag’s throat, forcing him to the asphalt as his other hand holds a smoldering cigarette to Jag’s bulging eye.
Stunned, my breath lodges in my throat.I’ve never seen anyone move like that.Not even Jag.Wolf’s control is absolute, his fury ice-cold and calculated.
Jag seethes, his nails buried in Wolf’s forearm, but Wolf doesn’t lift that threatening ember.One twitch and Jag will lose his eyesight.
Gone is Wolf’s playful smirk.In its place gleams something far colder, a face that doesn’t belong in civilization.
“If you hurt her again, I’ll break things that aren’t meant to break.”He bares his teeth, his features devoid of humanity.
He straddles Jag’s chest as Jag widens unblinking eyes.If he blinks, his lashes will surely catch fire.
Jag might be stronger, but holy fuck, Wolf is ruthless.He’s a maniac that Jag doesn’t know how to fight.
The rifle lies beside them, and I grab it, removing the magazine, emptying the chamber, and tossing it out of reach.Since he knows I won’t shoot him, no sense waving it around like a useless threat.
Jag manages to free an arm and reaches for the knife in his boot.
But Wolf is faster.He grabs Jag’s wrist and slams it against the pavement, the force so vicious I hear the bones crack.
Jag grunts, his head jerking back in pain.
“I warned you.”Wolf clucks his tongue, returning the cigarette to Jag’s eye.“You should’ve run when you had the chance.”
For a horrifying moment, I think he intends to kill Jag.The way his fingers flex around Jag’s throat, the smoke curling from that cig with pure, deadly intent, he’s seconds away from finishing this.
I don’t know if I want to stop him.
Jag has taken everything from me.He’s hunted me, bullied me, stolen everyone I cared about, and twisted my life until every choice became a knot he tightened around my throat.
But as I watch Wolf strangle him, a different fear creeps up my spine.
Wolf isn’t doing this for revenge.
He’s doing it because this is who he is.
