Page 91 of Fated to Monsters

“I don’t doubt they could have found us without it.” His gaze floats past me into the distance. “They’re already approaching.”

I breathe in deeply. "How many?"

The wendigo looks down at me, his solemn expression is more dire than ever. "At least a hundred. Maybe more."

We’re outnumbered and there’s no telling what kind of magical powers Parla and her goonies will possess. I knew this would be a challenge, but I hadn’t realized the magnitude of it until this very instant. And when I look out at the last of the demons, I grow concerned of the death toll that will no doubt rise. There will be casualties on both sides, but at what point will enough be enough?

Parla won’t rest until we’re all dead, and we won’t stop until she is.

I latch onto Dash’s hands and pull him toward me. “You need to go into that building and hide. Okay? Do not come out until this is all said and done. Neither the hunters nor the demons can sense you, and we must use that to our advantage.”

His gaze darts back and forth between mine. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You aren’t.” I force a smile and shake my head. Worrying about Dash’s safety will only bring more harm to me and Wes. He needs to stay tucked away, safe and sound, if we stand any chance of keeping our heads clear during battle. And I’m already struggling to do that without adding Dash into the mix. “I’ll find you when it’s over.”

Dash kisses my cheek briefly and takes a final look into my eyes. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less.” I unsheathe one of my blades. “You still have yours, right?”

Dash pats his side where his own knife is tucked away.

“Don’t be afraid to use it,” I tell him as he disappears through the chaos of the demons that swell around me.

“You ready for this?” I ask Wes, who stays silently at my side.

“You sure that you’re okay?”

"I am." The energy of the coming fight rumbles through me, temporarily overriding any reservations I may have. I don't worry about Wes. He and his hound can overcome any obstacle. He can fully engulf himself in flames and catch fire to anyone who dares threaten him. He can shift into his hound form and move around this battlefield quicker than any other creature standing here today, ripping out throats and tearing off limbs. Now that he has unlocked his full form, he is unstoppable.

I’ve only just scratched the surface of what I’m capable of, and so far, my magic has done me almost no good. I stepped foot into Prania in a weakened state, and with each passing moment, my health declines even more. It’s going to take everything I have to simply survive an extended stay, let alone fight to the death.

But luckily for me, the mate bond does not insist thatItellhimthe truth.

Hunters emerge from the near fog, their boisterous footsteps pelting the ground as they charge us, armed with knives and swords and magic and unrecognizable devices.

“This is it,” I say to no one in particular.

As one solid group, we rush toward the hunters, erupting total chaos in the clearing in front of the building the demons were previously hiding out in.

I duck to avoid a flying knife and slice my own through the exposed flesh of a hunter as he reaches over his head to throw another blade.

His insides spill out as he hits the ground with a thud. One down, so many more to go.

Kicking my next target, I spin and drive the sharp end of my knife into the throat of the man, who clutches at the gushing wound. The air becomes thick with the stench of death and gore. I rub at my nose, more blood trickling down despite not being hit in the face.

The minor distraction allows a hunter to charge at me, his sword slicing a thin section of my armored top as I dive out of his way.

“Fucking bitch!” he screams at me.

I roll my eyes. “At least I’m not a mind-controlled puppet.” I turn toward him and steady my footing. “Are you even able to wipe your ass without permission from your master?”

“At least I’m not sleeping with the enemy,” he barks back.

I laugh. “At least I’m actually getting laid.” I run toward him, letting him think he knows exactly where I’m going to strike, but at the last second, I slide past him and slice through his biceps. Blood splatters onto my face and provides a nice camouflage from my own dripping out of my nose.

Shoving onto my feet, I reel back my arm and slam the blade into the soft spot between his shoulder and spine. And with everything I have, I grunt and force all my weight down, cutting him wide open.

Should I have tried to save him? Probably. But this early in the battle, I don’t have time to waste on something that’s already failed me once.

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