Page 102 of Fated to Monsters

“Wh-what?” Parla’s evil eyes widen.

Dash grins. “You heard me.” He pops his fingers into his mouth and whistles loudly. He raises his voice and faces the crowd. “If anyone would like to have a piece of her, now is your chance.”

Murmurs fill the space and without another moment passing, bodies approach from all directions, only this time, they’re trained on the true villain, not us.

Dash and I take a cautious step back, leaving Parla there, secured by the wendigo who once wanted nothing more than to kill us.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask Dash.

If anyone deserves to get their pound of flesh, it’s Dash. After everything he’s been through, he should be able to feel the satisfaction of taking her life.

It’s a shame she doesn’t have resurrection abilities so we could each get a shot at ending her life repeatedly.

“I just want to go home.” Dash keeps his attention focused on Parla as the crowd springs toward her.

She screams out but it’s no use.

A demon claws at her back, a hunter jabs his knife through her stomach. Another demon sinks its fangs into her neck while the wendigo keeps her upright, his razor-sharp fingers impaled into her shoulders.

Parla disappears but her cries remain until eventually, they fade out among the cheers of the lasting victors. And with her departure, another burst of bright light fills the entire realm, followed by something I have never seen in all my years of living in Prania.

The sky. Blue and hazy with fluffy clouds.

“I can’t believe it.” I blink twice and steady my squinted eyes.

The crowd roars louder and dissipates from the woman they were descending upon. Only pieces of her remain. A twitching hand, a mutilated leg, part of her torso. The few demons that stay near her continue munching on her corpse until nothing is left of her.

I breathe in deeply, the air in this realm already seeming fresher than it ever has been.

“We did it,” I say out loud to no one in particular. “Prania is free.”

But with that declaration, my heart constricts, the uncertainty of whether my mate will live to learn the outcome of this war eating me alive.

Pippa appears at my side, her face covered in blood but seeming otherwise unharmed. “Is she going to make it?” Her serious gaze darts back and forth between me and Dash.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, because truth be told, my hound and I are terrified that Parla isn’t the only one that lost this battle today.

22

Wren

I’m sitting at the table, patiently waiting for my mother to cut off a chunk of cheese and pass it to me.

“Cheese was always your father’s favorite, too.” She smiles warmly at me, but I can’t quite make out her whole face. “I prefer bread…”

I take the piece she offers me, glancing down at my small hands.

This doesn’t make sense, none of it does.

Where am I? Why am I here?

Is this a dream, a memory, or maybe a nightmare?

Commotion sounds in the distance but grows closer to our home.

My mother sighs. “Take the cheese and go hide. Don’t come out until I find you. Okay, my sweet Birdie?”

A pang shoots through my heart. How could I forget that Mother called me Birdie? What else have I possibly forgotten?

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