Page 52 of Ash and Roses

“Give him the girl,” Morgan says, panic evident in his voice.

The man moves for me, clinging to the hope that Morgan’s orders will somehow save his life. I know well enough that they won’t. This wolf is the monster that stalks the forest, and I’ve seen exactly what happens when it’s encountered. I feel the man’s hands against my back for only a second before I’m falling. I land hard on my hands and knees, and when the growl reverberates through the soil beneath me again, it’s much, much closer.

I pull in a sharp breath before lifting my head to face the animal only inches from me now. Its eyes swirl with the same red as the blood-stained earth beneath me. There’s something strange about those eyes, and the pounding of my heart shifts into a flutter.I know those eyes.

“Quinn?” The word comes out so soft that I’m not really sure I said it, but the wolf’s ears twitch. His eyes seem to soften, and for only a second, the striking scarlet dulls to a warm, molten amber.

His eyes shut tight as a fierce tremble rips through him. Bones crack as the animal’s body twists and bends at unnatural angles. Whimpers and growls turn to human groans as fur and flesh tear open. A human figure—tall and naked, with dark disheveled hair slick with traces of blood—emerges from the steaming, hollow carcass. It takes only seconds for what remains of the wolf to turn into a black sludge hardly noticeable against the soil.

Quinn seems unsteady on his feet for only a moment as he looks down at his now human hands. When he finally looks at me, there’s nothing but shame in those eyes. That too only lasts a moment before unbridled rage overtakes him and his eyes lock on Morgan.

“You have ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doing. One.” He moves with the speed of a wolf, and before he finishes counting to two, he’s got his hands on the other man’s head. With a sharp twist, the man’s neck snaps and his body slumps to Quinn’s feet.

“J—James…” Morgan can barely get the name of his friend out. “You killed him!”

Quinn steps over James’ body, slowly closing the distance between him and Morgan. “I saidyouhad ten seconds. Now you have five.”

Morgan drops the knife and backs away with his hands raised in submission. “I don’t deserve to die because you didn’t have the balls to eliminate a threat.”

Quinn’s lips twist up into a vicious smile. “Oh, I’m not going to kill you.”

“You’re—You’re not?”

Quinn’s head turns and his eyes find mine. There’s lust in them, but a kind of lust I’ve never seen in him before. This is raw, bloodthirsty savagery. He kicks the knife, and it skids across the dirt and patches of grass until it stops just in front of me. “Do you remember how to kill a man?”

He can’t be serious. How can he expect me to just pick up the knife and kill a person like it’s nothing? Maybe Morgan deserves it, and he was definitely going to kill me before Quinn showed up, but death is so final.

I don’t have a chance to reach for the knife or refuse before Morgan is running. “Fuck this,” he says under his breath.

Quinn picks up a sizeable rock in one hand and throws it with such force that when it connects with Morgan’s shoulder, it sends him down with a sickening crack. It occurs to me that Quinn didn’t miss. If he’d hit Morgan’s head, he would have shattered the skull and killed him instantly.

‘This is your kill.’I hear Quinn’s voice in my head as clearly as if he’d spoken, but his lips never move. Still, by the way he’s looking at me, I know he’d meant for me to hear them. How is that possible?

Quinn walks casually to the crawling Morgan and hoists him to his feet, holding his arms behind his back and keeping him in place. I pick myself up, knife in hand, and close the distance between us as if walking through a dream. Quinn tears open Morgan’s shirt, leaving his chest and stomach exposed to me, as if this was just another lesson.

I close the remaining steps between us and press the tip of my blade against the flesh just below his ribcage, angled up just as Quinn had shown me. Can I really do it, though?

“Don’t!” Morgan says, his voice breaking. So much for the bravado he’d shown earlier.

“Is this not how you would have killed me?” I ask, pressing the blade just hard enough for a single drop of blood to pool at the tip. He squirms—more from fear than pain—but Quinn holds him steady. Quinn doesn’t say it, but I get the sense that he wants me to take my time. He’d stand here all day and night for this.

“You fucking bitch! I should have slit your throat when I had the chance.”

I lean in close to him, standing on the tips of my toes to bring myself to meet his eye. “You fucking should have.”

I drive the knife upwards, and he heaves for breath. It was harder than I’d imagined it would be to slice straight through flesh and muscle, so next time I’ll have to remember to use more force.

Next time?Did I really just think about there being a next time? I shudder at the thought as hot blood runs over my hand and down my wrist. Morgan is dying, of that I’m sure, but it’s a slow death. At this rate, he’ll be more likely to die from the injury to his lung than from blood loss. If I pull out the knife and allow the blood to flow, it will be over much quicker.

The question is, does he deserve that courtesy? I doubt he would have done the same for me. Still, I don’t need to see the pain in his eyes longer than necessary. I don’t want to hear his coughs and gasps for breath as he chokes on his own blood. His suffering doesn’t take back any of what he took from me.

I pull the knife from him, and the river of red quickens. A flash of annoyance flickers across Quinn’s face, but he says nothing. He may want to watch Morgan, revel in the fear in his eyes, commit the sounds of his demise to memory—but I don’t. And, as he said, this is my kill.

Morgan coughs, and a bubble of blood explodes on his lips. I’ve lost all sense of time. It could be seconds or minutes that pass, but I refuse to look away from him until the light has left his eyes. When his head slumps forward, I know it’s done.

“Well done, Stabby,” Quinn says, his voice whisper-soft as he drops Morgan unceremoniously to the ground below.

I look down at the red smeared knife still clutched in my shaking hand, and want nothing more than to drop it—but I don’t. I killed a man, and that will stay with me forever, but so too will the words from Quinn’s lesson.Never drop your blade.

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