Page 50 of Scalebound

In a flurry of movement, I made my way to Belle's side as she wrapped up her snack, her attention snapping to the urgency of the moment. A sense of reliance on her washed over me, her very presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos. Across the space between us, our unspoken connection pulsed with mutual understanding, bridging the gap between our thoughts and intentions.

Her tongue crossed over her lips, licking them clean. At any other point, I would’ve been disgusted, and my stomach would’ve turned, but I was only focused on the brooding man and Damian lying on the floor.

I could still hear the man screeching from his pain, but I knew I didn’t have much time. Belle and I made contact.

“Ready?”I asked her.

“Rasandrea1.”

Her eyes glared together in rage.

Instantly, the man turned to us, and I scowled. His eyes were swollen, bloody, and an unnerving purple color. His eyelids started to droop in directions that weren’t normal, and the irises weren’t black anymore. They were actually… white. My breath caught in my throat as I witnessed the consequence of my action, a gasp escaping me as horror washed over me. His vision was taken from him. He was blind.

He sneered in our direction and approached us, stumbling as he moved. The smoke engulfed my view, as Belle incinerated anything or anyone in her path, the beams and chairs rippling with pops from the embers at their base.

The bar was eerily empty. The silence was broken only by the faint sound of his footsteps echoing across the room, drawing nearer to us with each passing moment. Death gleamed in his eyes as he reached into one of his large black boots, grabbinga knife out, holding it high. His head tilted from side to side, listening to our movement, to where we were. The whites of his irises showcased dark red and orange flames dancing inside them as he neared us, only feet away.

Belle and I looked over at Damian. His arms were pushing up off the ground, trying to help lift the weight of his body. The dark man was getting closer, and Belle and I rushed over to Damian, wanting to help him.

We reached him in fear of the man getting closer. He was making his way in our direction, knife held high, the silver glimmering in the heat of the flames.

I grabbed Damian’s arms and pulled him to be upright on his feet. He put one hand against his head in pain.

“Hurry!” I urged, tugging his arms to the opening of the wall.

He limply started to move. Belle's eyebrows furrowed slightly, knitting together in a subtle display of concern as her gaze remained fixed on him, tracking his gradual approach toward us. Belle was weak, her hurt foot still limping, but more aggressively now that she had put a lot of tension on it. Her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, their once vibrant gleam now dimmed like a faded gemstone. She looked exactly how I felt, and if that was the case, then she had no more fire or energy, either.

“Scale slum, you can’t run from me forever,” the man proclaimed as he limped closer and closer to us. Panting, my heart raced a thousand miles a minute. We were stumbling on all the broken chairs and tables, unable to move fast enough.

Struggling to hold Damian up, my limbs shook as I helped us move across the underground bar, trying to get away from the man.

“It’s my fault,” Damian said through resisted words.

“Just move quickly!” I said, glancing back, watching the guy near us.

He reached us and launched with his knife flying high in the air. I shoved Damian and myself off to the side, away from his dangerous hand. Chairs rattled as we flung into them, falling to the floor. Damian groaned, raising his hand to his head.

My legs and arms couldn’t move. I was in shock.

The man came toward the sound that we made, sauntering with the knife twisting in his hand, his tongue rolling over his teeth. Damian got up on his hands and knees, standing to face him. He grabbed the knife in his boot; the dagger serrated and long.

Damian, limping and weak, raced toward the man as swiftly as he could without making noise, his knife held high in his hand. The man listened to his footsteps, following the sound of them. His knife was longer. Bigger. Stronger. Like him.

Damian swiped at his gut, missing as the man jumped backward, a smirk crossing his lips. A grumble of a laugh erupted from his chest, becoming exhilarated from the game.

He raised his knife, attempting to plunge it down on Damian, but Damian rolled, barely missing the strength of his aim. As Damian rolled, he swiped the blade at his legs, slicing them open, eliciting a howl from the large man’s lips.

The man kicked hard with his boot, hitting Damian and making him moan in pain. “Damian, get up!” I yelled, watching as the man lifted the dagger in his hands, thrusting it down in Damian’s back.

1.Rasandrea (Rah-sawn-dreh-aw): Ready

Chapter thirty-four

DAMIAN

Suddenly, there was pain engraved on my back. I roared in response and fell to the floor as clattering and noise broke out behind me. My eyes blacked out, and silver stars fluttered my eyelids.

Disappointment flooded my dying body. I had let Sebastia down. Even trying to save Aurelia, I ended up allowing her to die, anyway.

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