“Wrong head, angel; gross.” He complains as he sits up before doubling over with a grunt.
Buying him as much time as I can, I leap over his crumpled form to intercept the lycan dragging himself through a doorway fifty feet away, his legs limp and useless behind him. Pouncing onto his back, I take the back of his neck in my mouth and jerk before he can manage more than a howling shriek. Keeping half an eye on Cinjin as he works through the agony of his first shift, I fight tooth and nail through the steady stream of enemies that appear out of the woodwork. Pouring everything I have into the effort, I quickly start to slow, rapidly burning through my reserves.
When Cin’s pained sounds finally stop, replaced by a savage snarl and the sound of limbs being torn from bodies as he goes full-fledged feral, his other half far more psychotic in his first taste of freedom than the others, I capitalize on it to catch my breath. Chest heaving, I manage all of ten seconds of a reprieve before a shot grazes my shoulder, sending me flinching back a step, blood rapidly staining my coat.
And Cinjin absolutely loses his shit.
Biting the scruff of my neck like some wayward puppy, he fucking chucks me through the massive hole in the siding of the house, forcing me to seek refuge amongst the dying embers before jumping over the railing to the yard below. Panting, I glance around, able to see through a line of what used to be several bedrooms, the walls between each blown out in the explosion. Part of the roof has collapsed, furniture strewn about in a splintered wreck. To my right, the wall is decimated, leaving a clear view into the hall and the fire that’s still raging in full force within the depths of the house.
Bright side, it looks like I joined the ranks of Kaige and Damian and got a bonus ability, so I don’t need to worry about burning to death.
Keeping up the mental pep talk until I catch my second wind, I eventually get to my feet, stretching out my limbs. Soon, the stinging in my shoulder joins the dull ache of the glass still embedded in my side, keeping it from healing completely. Shaking off the exhaustion, I take a few steps towards the balcony, only to pause when the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. Hackles raised, I scan my surroundings more closely, but still find nothing. All of the men that were here are either dead or gone, the majority of the hallway so engulfed in flame it’s impossible for anyone else to pass through unless they’re desperate, most already out on the lawn.
Taking a tentative step, a violent twisting lurches in my chest, my stomach sinking with a sense of dread. Darting off into the hallway without another thought, I follow the impulse, wading my way through billowing smoke that coats my lungs. Chuffing and shaking my head, balking from the chemical scent, I strain my hearing for whatever is setting my other half off. The heat doesn’t bother me, but the toxic stench and lack of oxygen certainly are doing their damndest to take me out of commission.
Five minutes later, I’m on the farthest side of the house near the opposite explosion site, the raging fire chasing away anyone else that might have been lurking. Straining my senses as it gets increasingly harder to breathe, I’m about to call it and bolt for fresh air when I hear a faint slew of curses broken up by a coughing fit.
Heart lodging in my throat, I round the next bend, zeroing in on the door dangling precariously at an awkward angle. Carefully creeping into the room, the fire has nearly consumed it, smoke hanging so heavily in the air that it burns my eyes. The majority of the roof is still intact, but several chunks have come down in what used to be a rec room, if the broken pool table is anything to go by, looking like a tornado ripped through it. The wood creaks and groans, the massive television hanging on one wall melting and warped, dangling from its last bracket.
“Godsfuckingdamnit,” the familiar voice mutters, and I search the room, finally finding a small movement on my left near the far side.
Cautious of each step, I stalk further into the room, bypassing a sea of bodies and debris. Finally reaching the corner, my stomach flips at the extent of the damage. Two beams are crossed over him, pinning Hunter to the floor, but also keeping the worst of the weight from crushing him completely. If one shifts more than a couple of inches, the entire precarious mass could come crashing down, along with the last of the wall that they’re braced against, currently sagging in towards us along with a chunk of the ceiling.
“Who’s there?” The sound of a gun being cocked immediately follows the demand.
Carefully working my way over the splintered remains of jagged pieces of wood fueling the nearest bonfire, I aim for a non-threatening bark so that he doesn’t assume I’m one Alodia’s wolves, though who the fuck would be so suicidal as to come in here simply to murder him instead of waiting twenty minutes for the inferno to do the job is anyone’s guess.
“...Sabrina?” It’s an incredulous whisper as his eyes rake over me in disbelief before they quickly become livid. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Ignoring him, I shift to a new position to better inspect how everything’s held together, searching for a way to get him out.
“Get your ass outside before you get yourself killed!” he shouts, swatting a hand to bat me away.
His demands fall on deaf ears as I hastily leap back over the rubble I just bypassed in search of something to act as a temporary brace.
“Thank the gods,” he mutters, barely audible, followed by the faint sound of his head thudding against the floor.
Bolting to the other side of the room, I scavenge for one of the fallen beams, jaws aching as I drag it through a mess of debris. The floor releases an ominous groan, and I hurry past that patch, returning to his side a minute later.
“You suicidal, fucking woman! Justgo!” he snaps, along with a series of other furious commands that carry no weight.
Eventually accepting that I’m not listening, he turns his efforts into actually helping, his worry manifesting in escaping, if only to haul me out of here himself. It’s a bitch not having thumbs, forced to use my jaw to maneuver the beam into place with my head turned sideways, relying on Hunter’s one free hand to guide it into place. Trusting him to hold it, I dart off to grab the largest remaining chunk of a chair, dragging other pieces of scrap beneath the beam and slowly shoving them closer and closer. Inch by inch I lessen the weight crushing his chest, using whatever I can find to support our makeshift lever since there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to lift it and drag him out at the same time.
With a sharp gasp, he begins furiously coughing, able to draw his first full breath in who only knows how long. I sink my teeth into his shoulder, pulling with everything that I have to free him. As the groaning wood creaks and starts to splinter, I yank harder, my paw slicing on some debris in my haste. Drawing on the final vestiges of my stolen strength, I burn through the last of my reserves, left with only my own exhausted muscles to frantically drag him out and far enough away before everything completely collapses on top of us both.
We barely make it to the doorway before the supports explode in a spray of splintered debris, the sudden onslaught of weight the final straw and punching a hole through the floor, sending everything crashing to the floor below. Still, I don’t stop, can’t stop. The fire’s spread to encompass not only this hall, but the next few over. And while I’m not sure what state Hunter’s in, the fact that he hasn’t bucked to free himself from my jaws yet confirms my assumption that his legs were likely crushed in that mess. He’ll heal, but only with time, time that we don’t have with flames licking at his clothes, singing the fabric and making him hiss in a pained breath.
By the time I’m dragging him onto the corpse-laden balcony outside, I’m wavering on my feet, vision dotted with black and on the brink of collapse. Each breath is an active effort, more of a wheeze, and the rain soaking and matting my fur to my body is the most glorious thing that I’ve ever felt in my life. Dropping him as soon as we’re in the clear, I flop to the ground a few feet away.
“Fucking hell, woman,” Hunter grumbles before devolving into an aggressive coughing fit, rasping, “You might be even more stubborn than me.”
The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Sabrina. I owe you foot rubs every day for the rest of your life, Sabrina.’
With every cough and wheeze, fresh air chases away some of the smoke from his lungs, his body desperately trying to heal as quickly as possible out of pure determination. Struggling to catch my own breath, I give him a quick scan, assessing the damage to see how totally fucked we are. The rain is cutting lines through the soot streaked across his body, revealing multiple burns beneath his blood-flecked clothes. My stomach roils as I see a glimpse of bone jutting through a rip in his jeans, his legs lying limp and blood still pouring from the wound.
He’ll heal. He’s going to be good as new, but it might take a few days to recoup.
It means that there’s no way in hell he can climb down or fight. I’m running on fumes, but if I’m dragging him out of here, I can’t tear anyone’s throat out, so we’re going to have to hunker down here for the time being and hope for the best. The others will continue to pick people off, and I have to imagine we’re nearing the last of them by now. They’ll come find us after, and one of them can carry Hunter back to the truck. I just need to hold down the fort until then, tackle any stray threats that stumble across us.
