Fight

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains abuse, violence, and emotional relapse. Please read at your own risk. 

Clara

Gerald was a monster of a werewolf with massive muscles; he was matchless in any one-on-one fight. They said that he had fought every Elite and lower class werewolf in the gladiator trials for physical supremacy, and he never lost once.

I would be a fool if I thought I could defeat him. But it didn’t matter if I lost. I was dead anyway. If I wasn’t beaten to a pulp by the Lieutenant, then I would be taken to be questioned and tortured.

At least I would go down on my own terms.

I snarled at Gerald and threw myself at him. The stone was in my hand. A grim smile was on his face. The rock collided with his upper arm, as he raised them in time to block. Any lesser werewolf’s arm would have shattered instantly, but Gerald was built like a mountain.

He lifted his giant fist and let it crash on my head – or he would’ve gotten my head, if I didn’t dodge just in time. Instead, I once again saw sparks as his closed fist pummeled my shoulder. I heard a terrible crack, and a howl of pain left my lips. It took all of my willpower not to faint right there.

I reeled back and gazed bleakly at my shoulder turning red and purple with inflammation and bruising. My left arm hung uselessly at my side. Dislocated. This was bad.

Her eyes shone bright, and a laugh escaped her snout. Elena.

I could feel her power and agility within me, but it wasn’t enough. I was too anxious to channel her raw strength. Despite myself, I too laughed crazily along with her. Gerald’s blue eyes narrowed.

“Just like her. You’re as crazy as her,” he muttered.

Confusion fogged my mind for just a second. Who was he talking about?

I released my claws; black evil talons extended from the fingertips of my right hand. I stared hungrily at the blue pulsing vein in his stout neck. Just one slice. All it takes is one well-aimed slash to separate the living from the dead.

“Heh heh. You always were an interesting female, Clara,” he said. He tilted his head back and forth, as if to stretch his muscles for a fight. “If you had just stayed a good little quiet werewolf, I might have even entertained the thought of taking you as my concubine. Ah well. My family would be pleased to finally get rid of you.”

I spat at him, “Big talk for someone who’s going to feed the crows.”

I lunged and slashed with my right hand, but the imbalance of my dislocated shoulder and useless arm made me swing far too wide. For such a giant werewolf, he was shockingly nimble. My claws swung at empty air. He slung his powerful fist into my stomach. I went flying back into the dirt. Nausea and pain made me vomit out the contents of my stomach. I tasted and smelled the bitter acid on my lips, which almost made me doubly sick. Painfully, I tried to pick myself up.

Get up, you fool. GET UP! screeched Elena.

My dazed eyes tried to focus on the Lieutenant. He was watching me carefully. I realized with rising fury that he was toying with me. The guards who had been at the exit of Bragne had finally seen the commotion, and they both sprinted towards Gerald’s side.

“Sir!” said the one who wasn’t as drunk as his companion. “Are you alright?!”

He moved towards me with chains in his hands, but Gerald roared. The two guards flinched and stepped back.

“Does it look like I need help? Get back, you morons!” he snarled.

Mutely, they stepped back in fear. Gerald was a good head and shoulders taller than them, even though they themselves were athletic guards in their own right. It was almost comical to see them in utter awe of the Lieutenant, though there was nothing funny about the situation.

I coughed and spat out bits of blood. Despite all my attempts, it would still come to this. I was still helpless. For the first time in a very long time, I felt despair, rage, and tears burn within me. I was so weak. So pathetic. I was going to die a disgraced, pointless death like my parents for daring to fight an Elite. It was a doomed venture from the start. Not even kind Hazel could save my skin this time. Lord Dover would make sure that anyone who even dreamed of hitting his brute son would be marked for a cruel execution.

Gerald circled around me. “Get up,” he said mockingly. “Is this it? Is this the end of the Grey line at last? I thought you’d actually put up a good fight for your parents’ sake. Disappointing.”

He grabbed my hair and yanked me up. I cried out in agony. His face came within inches of my own, and he sneered. “Are you going to beg for mercy like your worthless mother? Go on. Beg. Maybe I can kill you now and spare you the torture of the Iron Vise. It’s your choice, step-sister.”

I spat both blood and saliva into his eye.

“Burn in the halls of hell, you maggot-infested sack of shit,” I hissed.

He snarled and let me go for just a moment. My spit must have burned his eye, and with every ounce of strength that I had, I shoved my claws deep into his skin. Even though he was caught off guard, he still was able to shield his throat. I only was able to sink my claws into his barreled chest. If I had use of both of my arms, I could have carved out his heart. He bellowed in pain, and the two guards behind him finally intervened.

“Call for backup!” screamed one guard.

The other guard threw his head back and howled, long and clear. One guard tore my hand away Gerald’s chest, and the other one gripped my waist to pull me back. My entrenched claws ripped off chunks of Gerald’s flesh in their exit, which made him roar in pain. The Lieutenant smashed his fist into one unfortunate guard’s gut, and then with no compunction, threw out a fist aimed directly at my head. It was as if my cheekbone had dented inwards. I fell backwards, my head spinning.

No more. I couldn’t fight… any more…

“Father… Mother…. I’m so… tired,” I whispered.

Vaguely, I could hear other werewolves baying in the distance. The sound of marching footfalls on the dirt and stone pathways. Yells, baying, and outraged voices. I could feel the cold embrace of iron chains on my wrist, and someone dragging me forward. I didn’t care anymore. I was too exhausted to even think.

Yes. This was how the Grey line will end. In a pathetic last stand. I couldn’t even make it a single league outside of Bragne. What a joke I was.

You poor, poor dear, she said to me. Elena crept closer and licked my face.

I heard the heavy steps of Gerald shaking the ground as he approached me. One hand gripped his bleeding chest to staunch the flow. His eyes glowed red with rage. “I’m going to make you regret that your mother ever pissed you out of her womb,” he snarled.

His blood-red claws extended from his fingertips. He raised them to make the kill. I shut my eyes.

I heard a loud clang as if a sword deflected a blade. I opened my eyes, but the pain of everything made everything blurry. There was a flash of dark blue hair. A lean, but athletic werewolf had his mottled claws locked against the Lieutenant’s red talons Gerald leaned his whole weight against the other werewolf, and there was a look of shock on his face. The indigo-haired werewolf wasn’t even budging.

“I said I’d see you again, Clara.” Prince Legiere said with his playful voice. 

It was the last thing I heard before giving myself over to the darkness of unconsciousness.