But what if I couldn’t? What if there were two deaths here tonight?
THIRTY-EIGHT
RAWLING
The professor’s crumpled body covered in dirt was a stark reminder of what I’d done and what I had to do. I’d killed, but I had to do it a second time.
But I was a father, mate, friend, and student. What did I know about ending someone’s life? This wasn’t me.
My wolf, the driving force behind calling in the debt Professor Shaw owed me and my family, was now whispering about how could I expect him to fight Atticus’s wolf, his brother.
I was numb and didn’t have an answer. Maybe I couldn’t solve this and someone else would take over. But I reached for Phelan’s hand, knowing it had to be me.
Atticus was shaking, and huge tremors wracked his body. He opened his mouth but didn’t follow through and tell the apparition to piss off. I’d run when confronted by an apparition last semester. And I’d had my ring off. Had that given me the strength to leave because I was me and not presenting as latent? I’d never know.
Atticus knew what was happening. I witnessed the pleading in his eyes.
He’s asking you to end his life.
But that look vanished and was replaced by loathing. He grinned, and though I’d been on the other side of his lies, taunting, and tormenting, his sinister smile tugged at my belly. His nostrils flared, and he revealed his partly shifted fangs so even if I was undecided about our fate, he knew where this was headed.
The apparition wobbled and thinned behind him, becoming indistinct. Atticus staggered as if he’d been punched, and the apparition vanished.
He uttered one word before he took his fur. “Please.”
For a moment I was in awe. I’ve seen his wolf at a distance when he and Phelan shifted but had only had eyes for my mate’s beast. But now as a newly discovered shifter, my wolf, blood brother to Atticus, had to kill him.
My beast was reluctant, begging me to find another way, even though he understood there was only one outcome.
Now I wasn’t the latent Atticus had tormented or the newly discovered twin brother. Nope, I was prey. And he wasn’t a middle-aged professor whose wolf was past his prime, though I had one kill under my belt.
“Please don’t do this,” Jack begged.
My gaze went to Phelan. His distraught expression had me wavering. I loved him and Eira with everything I had. He held my gaze, and just for a second, he poured his love into me as our eyes locked on one another.
He’d almost lost me earlier, and now he may still do so. But he made no attempt to interfere, whereas Jack was blubbering and asking me to rethink my intention.
I took my fur as Atticus’s wolf leaped, and I feigned left but went right. He wasn’t fooled, and we collided. I wasn’t just fighting Atticus but the brutality of the hunter within him.
Our beasts rolled into a pile of gravel. His wolf was leaner and quicker than the one I’d killed earlier. He was able to twistmidair, claw my beast, withdraw, before returning and sinking his fangs into my wolf.
Our wolves, both brothers, were evenly matched, but my wolf had already fought this evening. His strength was waning, and this was his brother he was attacking. He wanted to survive and for his brother to heal, and yet to do that, he had to ensure Atticus’s wolf drew his last breath.
Atticus’s beast didn’t let up. He attacked my wolf, clawing his flesh, biting, and tearing. He was like a machine, one that didn’t need fueling or charging. He just kept coming. There was no emotion in him, but emotion was hampering my beast’s ability to fight.
To save him, we have to take him down. It’s the only way, I told him.
I urged my wolf to stand, and he got up, took a breath, and slammed into his opponent, knocking him sideways. Blood spilled over both beasts, coloring our similar fur in liquid red. Atticus’s wolf pinned mine down, and I stared into his eyes, not recognizing the wolf or the man. There was nothing in his gaze, and my beast saw what I did.
If we didn’t win, not only would my wolf and I perish, but Atticus would be lost.
No, I refuse. That cannot happen.
Digging into his reserves, he slammed his opponent away, and the other wolf landed with a thump on his back. Clouds of dust hovered over him as my beast leaned over him and placed a paw on his chest.
Now. Tell him to take his skin. That’s his only chance.
My beast bit down hard on the wolf’s neck as fur gave way to skin and four legs became two. Atticus thrashed in the dust as blood spurted and streamed, telling me his life was ebbing away.
