AMELIA
Ember’s fist connects with my ribs in a blindsiding blow, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my body as I crumple to the ground. Gritting my teeth, I force myself onto all fours, circling her warily, my wolf form bristling with fury.
“Pathetic. You couldn’t even fight me in your real form,” she spits, her words dripping with disdain, baiting me to shift back and risk further injury.
I bare my fangs in a feral grin, lunging at her, my jaws snapping for her throat. She reacts instantly, grasping my muzzle in her hands, struggling to keep my razor-sharp teeth from her flesh. Seizing the opening, I rake my claws across her chest, shoving her to the ground with a powerful kick. Pinning her beneath me, I tear at her face, my claws seeking to blind her, to rob her of her sight, and leave her vulnerable.
Ember’s screams of agony pierce the air as I gouge at her eyes, blood welling beneath my claws. But before I can finish the job, an invisible force seizes my heart, squeezing the life from it. I collapse to the side, a pitiful whimper escaping my throat as the witch’s spell constricts my chest, stopping the blood flow to my frantically beating heart.
I quickly change back, not caring I will be naked in front of everyone. I gasp for air, my lungs burning, the pressure easing slightly in human form, but the witch’s hold remains, icy fingers of death around my heart.
I glare at the witch, her face etched into my memory, a new name added to my list of enemies. A bundle of fabric hits my naked body, and I glance up to see Ember tossing clothes at me, a mocking sneer on her bloodied face.
“I want to kill you, but I want to do it while you’re in your true form. So you can know that you’re no match for me,” she taunts, wiping the blood from her ravaged eyes, deep claw marks scoring her once-beautiful face.
I pull on the jeans and shirt, my movements stiff and pained. Weakness still grips me from the witch’s attack, but the baby and I will be fine. But another worry gnaws at me-I can’t fight Ember in her lycan form. With the oak tree venom coursing through me, I know I’m no match for her. She’s cunning, deliberately exploiting my weakness. Assessing the toll on my body, I decide on lycan form. Oddly enough, it seems like the safest choice for both the baby and me.
“I see you’re even more foolish than I thought,” Ember sneers, her eyes glinting with malice.
“Bring it on, bitch,” I snarl, launching myself at her with preternatural speed, my fist slamming into her face with a sickening crunch. Blood gushes from her shattered nose, but she retaliates with a vicious headbutt, stars exploding behind my eyes as my vision swims.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog, but Ember is relentless. Her elbow cracks against my jaw, pain lancing through me as I feel the bone break, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.
Ignoring the white-hot agony radiating from my back, I press on, determined to end this before the venom saps the last of my strength. I lash out with my leg, aiming a crushing blow at her stomach, but my foot sinks into the ground, caught in a pool of quicksand that wasn’t there a moment before.
“I never said I would fight fair,” Ember gloats, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Bitch,” I hiss, struggling to free myself from the clinging sand, but the more I thrash, the deeper I sink, panic rising in my throat as I realize the trap I’ve fallen into.
“You should know better than to struggle,” she mocks, her fist connecting with my face in a brutal blow that snaps my head back, stars dancing before my eyes.
I swing at her blindly, but she dances back, staying out of reach, a cruel smile playing on her lips.
“This is going to be even easier than I thought,” she purrs, stalking toward me like a predator closing in on wounded prey. She raises her hand to strike me, but I lunge forward, seizing her wrist in an iron grip, twisting until I feel the satisfying snap of bone.
“Fuck!” she screams, trying to wrench her mangled hand from my grasp, but I hold on tight, slamming my forehead into her face, feeling her already-broken nose crunch under the impact.
She reels back, clutching at her ruined face, blood streaming between her fingers. “You stupid bitch, you broke my nose again,” she shrieks, her voice thick with pain and rage.
I grin through the agony, a small victory in the face of impossible odds. I may not be able to use my legs, but I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight.
Ember sees the defiance in my eyes, and her face contorts with fury, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Pull her down. It’s time I ended this bitch once and for all,” she commands, and before I can blink, massive hands made of sand erupt from the ground, seizing my arms in an unbreakable grip, dragging me down, down, down.
I thrash against my bonds, but it’s useless. The more I struggle, the tighter they hold until I’m pinned to the ground, helpless and exposed. Ember looms over me, a wicked-looking knife in her hand, the blade gleaming with the telltale sheen of oak tree venom.
Panic seizes me as I realize this is it, the end. If that blade pierces my heart, it’s over. I’ll never see Nickolas again, never hold our child in my arms. Desperation lends me strength, and I buck against my restraints, but they hold fast, unyielding as stone.
I mask my scent with my last ounce of power, praying it will be enough to protect our baby, to lessen the damage. White-hot agony explodes in my chest as Ember plunges the knife into my heart, the blade grating against bone, tearing through muscle and sinew. I clench my teeth so hard I taste blood, refusing to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
The sand releases me, and I lie there, gasping for breath, the venom spreading through my veins like wildfire, sapping my strength and my will to fight. Ember stands over me, a triumphant smile on her face, drinking in my suffering like the sweetest wine.
She turns to walk away, and a rage, unlike anything I’ve ever known, surges through me, burning away the pain, the weakness, the fear. No. It can’t end like this. I won’t let it.
Consequences be damned, I unmask my scent, feeling the power flood back into my broken body. I surge to my feet, tackling Ember to the ground, straddling her chest, my hands closing around her throat.
“You’re not dead, you bi-” she starts, but I silence her with a punch to the mouth, my fist slamming into her face again and again and again until her lips are a ruined mess of blood and broken teeth.
I claw at her eyes, shredding the delicate tissue, blinding her, robbing her of the one advantage she had over me. Ember screams, her hands flailing uselessly as she tries to fight back, but I dodge every blow, lost in a haze of fury and bloodlust.
My claws rake across her chest, tearing open the flesh, painting us both in a spray of crimson. I’m so lost in the frenzy of violence that I almost don’t notice the pile of sand burying me, trying to drag me away from my prey.
I whip my head around, ready to face the witch, but what I see stops me cold. The blood-poison accuser, the woman I saved, is fighting the witch, her face a mask of determination as she dodges the balls of sand hurled her way.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my heart swelling with gratitude, with the knowledge that I’m not alone in this fight.
“Anything for our Queen,” she replies, a fierce smile on her lips as she dances out of the witch’s reach.
I gasp, stunned by her words, by the loyalty in her eyes, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Ember is struggling beneath me, trying to flip us over to regain the upper hand. I dig my knees into the ground, using my weight to keep her pinned, my hands finding her throat once more.
She swings at me blindly, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated without her sight to guide her. I bite into my wrist, tearing open the flesh, and force the wound against her mouth, my blood pouring down her throat, tainted with the oak tree venom that’s slowly killing me.
“Get off me! Fucking get off me!” Ember screams, thrashing beneath me, but I hold fast, forcing her to drink, to take the poison into herself.
“Let’s begin,” I purr, a manic grin spreading across my face as I feel the venom burning through my veins, inching ever closer to my heart. I don’t have much time, but I’ll make every second count.
I flip myself around, straddling Ember’s legs, my hands closing around her ankles. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice high and thin with panic, and I smile a cold, cruel thing.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” I grab her feet in an iron grip, and with a savage twist, I rip them from her legs, the bones snapping like kindling, the tendons tearing like wet paper.
Ember’s scream is music to my ears, a symphony of agony and despair. I rise to my feet, planting my boot on her knee, and with a sickening crunch, I tear the joint from its socket, the limb hanging uselessly, a mangled mess of flesh and bone.
She shrieks, her body convulsing, her blood painting the ground around us in a macabre canvas. But I’m not done, not yet.
I kneel beside her, taking her hands in mine, these hands that have caused me so much pain, so much suffering. With a savage grin, I rip the fingers from their sockets, one by one, until her hands are nothing but bloody stumps, the digits scattered around us like gruesome confetti.
Ember’s screams have faded to whimpers, her body too weak, too broken to fight anymore. The only sign of life is the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the faint flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers.
“It was nice knowing you, Ember, but I never want to see you again,” I whisper, my voice cold and hard as I plunge my hand into her chest, my fingers closing around her heart.
I rip it from her body, holding it aloft, watching as the last spark of life fades from her ruined eyes. And then, as if a dam has broken inside me, the tears begin to fall, great, heaving sobs wracking my body as I clutch her still-warm heart in my hand.
“I fucking did it,” I whisper, my voice raw and broken. “I killed her.”
“Yes, my love. You fucking did,” a familiar voice says from beside me, and I look up to see Nickolas, his body drenched in blood, not an inch of him left untouched, just like me.
I drop Ember’s heart to the ground, the organ landing with a sickening squelch, and launch myself into his arms, burying my face in his chest as he holds me close, Lord Easterlin’s severed head dangling from his other hand.
Around us, the battle has stilled, the remaining enemies laying down their arms, their will to fight extinguished with their leaders’ deaths.
“We did it,” I breathe, my voice muffled against Nickolas’ chest.
“Yes, we did,” he murmurs, his arm tightening around me, holding me close, anchoring me in the storm of emotions raging inside me.