Page 95 of Fated to Monsters

My vision grows fuzzy again, making me miss the knife that punctures my armor top and shoves its way through my stomach.

I latch onto the person the knife is clutched by and pull them toward me, keeping the blade still buried in my body. Without even truly being able to see, I dig my nails into the soft skin on top of his hand and don’t stop until his grip has released the hilt, leaving the knife up for grabs. I yank it out with a grunt and clasp the handle so hard my fingers ache. Pointing it at them, or at least, the blurry shapes in my line of sight, I press my palm to my side to apply pressure to my new wound.

“Who’s next?” I scream. “Take your best fucking shot.” I keep blinking and hope that will clear up my sights and allow me to finish them off.

But I’m not as lucky as I thought I was. Especially when three more blobs turn their attention toward me. Spewing blood and inching back, I keep the knife out in front of my body.

Another shape rushes over, this one tackling one of my assailants and pinning him to the ground.

“Wren, are you okay?” Everest calls out toward me.

“Yeah,” I cough. “I’m good.” I swing through the air, somehow landing the sharp edge of the blade across one of my targets. My sights sharpen enough for me to charge the man I hit, and I use the momentary clarity to rush toward him and slam the knife into his chest.

One, two, three blows, and his body falls to the ground.

I spin and aim for another, my hand still pressed to my side.

This man kicks me in the shin, but instead of buckling to the blow the same way the other did, I grit my teeth and fight through it. A scream bubbles up and out of my chest as I allow the pain to flow through and power me forward. Everything aches. Dull and sharp and throbbing, all at once. Between the blood of the fallen and that of my own, I can’t seem to tell who’s is who’s.

I kill, once more, my hunter nature rising to the surface and refusing to succumb to those that try to eliminate me.Thisis why I am furla ain. No amount of pain or suffering can break me. If they want me dead, they’re going to have to take the bleeding heart from my chest.

A renewed sense of vigor flows through my veins, but when I turn toward the man who rushed over to save me, my mouth falls open and another scream forces its way between my lips.

Everest takes a sword straight through the stomach, his kind eyes going wide and meeting my frantic gaze.

“No!” I yell and dig my feet into the ground to run toward him. Without hesitating, I throw the man off him and slide my own knife into his attacker’s chest, aimed directly at his heart. His life ends in one fell swoop and I turn my attention to Everest, the man who is the reason I’m here today. Not only did he save me moments ago, but back at Rockbridge, too. In more ways than one, really. If it weren’t for his assistance, there’s no telling if we would have been able to escape that place, let alone make it out alive.

Tears well in my eyes and my hands hover at the sword, still embedded in his torso.

“I…I…” If I remove it, he could bleed out within seconds, but if I leave it in, it could continue to do more damage.

“Pu-pull it out,” he mutters.

And because I would do anything to make these final moments tolerable, I comply, slowly withdrawing the sword and tossing the blood-soaked thing aside.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

Everest forces a smile. “Don’t be sorry.” He hacks up blood, his lips coated in crimson red. “Tell Jade…” He coughs again. “That I…”

“No,” I shake my head and the tears scatter around us. “You’re going to make it. You’re going to tell her yourself.” I push my hand to his gushing wound and will him to make it. I plead and beg with anyone who might be listening to spare his innocent life. He doesn’t deserve this. None of them do.

My hand grows warm, and I wonder how much blood he can lose before he’s gone for good. I sniffle and dig into my pocket and pull out the device that Sydney had sent me in with. I shove it into his palm and close his fingers around it.

“I’m going to let go, Everest. And when I do, I need you to push that button. Can you do that for me? Push the button and go home. Be with your love.” I stare into his deep blue eyes. “Do not die here, do you hear me?” I rise to my feet and chew at the inside of my lip to stop the tears from coming. “Go home, Everest. Be free.”

With whatever strength he’s able to muster, his entire body disappears before my eyes, leaving behind not a shred of proof that he was here other than his blood that stains the ground and covers my hands.

I swallow down the sadness threatening to take hold, and channel the pain to bring me back to this reality. Everest is gone. One more lost to the twisted war that Parla waged.

I turn toward the continued chaos, scanning the crowd to find the rest of my people.

“Where are you?” I yell into the battlefield. “Come out and play, you fucking bitch.” I latch onto two knives and secure them in my grasp as I run toward Bo, the closest of my friends. I fight my way to his side, returning to my position at his rear. Each footstep rattles the wound that has stopped bleeding on my stomach, but I ignore it; I ignore the exhaustion that wants to drag me under.

“Was worried about you for a second, Birdie,” Bo shouts over his shoulder.

“Never been better,” I tell him while gripping onto a hunter’s shoulder with one hand, holding him in place, and shoving the knife in my grasp into his chest. I push him aside and settle my sights on my fated mate in the near distance. “Let’s get to Wes.”

Bo and I move as a solid unit, beating and kicking and slicing our path to Wes, one dead body at a time. It doesn’t take us long, working better together, to make it to him.

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