I just blink at the face. So familiar. So scary. I want to crawl under the sofa. Or better yet, run back to my room and hide like I did before he threatened to punish me by taking away all my friends.
“What did you do?” he asks, his voice low.Dangerous.
It’s getting harder to breathe, my vision going black.
“What was in the water, Elli boy?”
I scratch his arm, trying to take a breath.
“Elliot,” Sam's screech snaps me out of it. I blink again. Jared’s face is close, his teeth sharp. He’s not The Werewolf. I’m not six again.
I’ve trained for this. Scratching him is just wasting energy. Instead, I punch him hard right in the nuts. He stumbles back. I lean back, taking support from the wall, and kick him in the abdomen. That makes him back off.
This time I don't freeze. I dash towards the door.
My hand reaches out for the handle, then I’m slammed against the wall again, sharp pain jolting my shoulder. “You little shit. What the fuck did you give me?”
I scramble away from him, knowing what's coming next. The claws come out quickly. Quicker than I've ever seen before. Blink, and they're there. I’m surprised he hadn’t unsheathed them yet. Guess he was really curious about what was going to kill him soon. Not soon enough, though.
He’s clearly done waiting. Ten sharp claws move towards me. I plaster myself against the door, whatever good that’ll do.
Then he’s falling on his knees, body finally giving up. I blow out a breath.
He falls on his side, body going still.
“Elliot, what's happening? Are you—”
“It's okay,” I say. My voice comes out all shaky. “He’s down.” I manage.
Ican still hear his heavy, angry breaths. His eyes are trained on me, just as predatory as they were a few seconds ago. The only difference is I’m not the prey anymore.
I take a step towards him.
He thrashes on the floor.
I startle. “Fuck,” I mutter. That has never happened before.
Then the movement stops, his eyes going still. But I’m still wary. At least his claws have retracted.
“He'sgone, gone?” Sam asks in a breathy murmur.
“Yes,” I say firmly. The large body in front of me is completely still.
“And you’re okay?” he asks.
“I’ll live,” I assure him.
I take measured steps toward him. I can't hear his breath anymore. I kneel near his legs, feeling for a pulse. Not the most effective way, but I don't think I have calmed down enough to be within reach of his hands yet.
I close the cap on the water bottle and clean the water that dribbled out. I take the second bottle and finally approach Jared confidently. I check for a pulse again, two shaky fingers on his neck.
“He’s dead,” I announce.
Sam takes a relieved breath. I feel relieved for him. And for myself, too, of course. Not bleeding out in a random hotel in Sedona is always a relief. But this is important for Sam. He’s been after this werewolf for a long time.
“Okay,” Sam says, all business. “The hallway is clear, take the stairway.”
I do as he says. I didn’t touch any surfaces, at least not with my hands. There’s no blood to clean.
