Page 103 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Her lip twitches. And then she lunges.

Our blades clash, the sound echoing through the gutted foyer. The impact jars my spine, nearly takes me off my feet. She’s fast—inhumanly so—andstrong.Each strike sends shocks down my arm. I parry, pivot, duck—barely keeping ahead of her relentless attacks.

She spins. Her blade slices across my thigh. I stagger, biting back a scream. My blood hits the floor in a hot rush, and I nearly drop to one knee.

But I see Aria, still pinned, still fighting.She loves me.

And that gives me enough strength to lift my sword again.

I won’t fall. Not while Aria still needs me.

Not until I’ve burned this whole damn house to the ground.

Aria’s voice, sharp and ragged, cuts through the chaos like a blade. She’s crying out for me, begging them to stop, and it fuels me like fire in my veins.Just a little more, I grit out in my mind, swinging harder.

I catch a break—a sloppy parry from her mother, and I lunge forward, slashing hard. My blade slices through the woman's sleeve, drawing blood. A thin line, not nearly enough. But it makes her pause.

She doesn’t flinch. Just smirks.

Then she steps in again, faster than I can track, and the tip of her blade bites into my collarbone, driving me backward. I stumble. Her strength is relentless, crushing. My knees dip. Her sword presses deeper.

“Enough,” she hisses.

That’s it—she’s going to kill me.

In that second, I catch a flicker of movement—Aria’s captors are distracted. They think it’s over. They think I’m done. Iusethat. I roar through gritted teeth and slam my shoulder into her mother’s, knocking her off-balance. The sword glances off my side with a burn, but I don’t care.

She stumbles, not expecting resistance, and I use that precious second to hurl myself at the nearest enforcer. My sword arcs in a vicious slash, freeing Aria with a startled gasp from her captor’s grip.

I pivot on instinct, hurling myself toward the next nearest enforcer. My blade arcs, fast and vicious. Blood spurts. He cries out and drops. Aria gasps—free.

I barely register the relief before a glint of metal flashes in my peripheral vision. Her mother, graceful and terrifying, is stepping forward again, sword rising. Her enforcers are raising their swords as well.

“Kill her,” Lysara says, calm, final. A command.

Two enforcers lunge towards me, one in front, one behind.

I won’t make it.

IknowI won’t make it.

And then Aria moves.

She tears past the enforcers like she’s made of fire. Her cloak whips behind her, her fangs bared, and her voice rings out in a vicious snarl.

“No!”

It happens too fast: an enforcer lunges for my exposed back, blade raised for the killing blow. Aria intercepts him in mid-swing, arms outstretched.

The sound it makes—thethunkof steel sinking into flesh—is the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

“Aria!” I scream.

Time fractures. Everything slows.

Her body jerks, blood blooming across her midsection. She collapses back into me, the shock in her eyes quickly giving way to agony. My arms catch her automatically. The sword clatters to the floor. I don't even remember dropping it.

I can’t breathe.

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