Page 98 of Fated to Monsters

“Thanks,” I blurt out, never having expected I would thank the man who killed Dash twice.

Two hunters storm him, one of them shoving a sword straight through the torso of the antlered man. The wendigo’s eyes go wide, and he steels his gaze down at the blade piercing through him. He looks up at me and says, “Pull it out,” before spinning his back toward me.

Trying not to inflict any more damage, I slide the knife out of him and watch in amazement as he palms both of his attacker’s heads and smashes them together.

I use the darkly coated sword to slice through the next hunter that runs toward me, cutting his head clean off his body. The thud of his remains hitting the ground echoes through me somehow louder than the anarchy happening around us.

“Are you okay?” I yell out at the wendigo.

But he doesn’t answer me, he just continues fighting anyone that comes within arm’s reach. Black blood oozes out of the wound in his torso and makes me wonder how much longer he has left—how much longer any of us have left.

And as more and more hunters close in around us, worry overtakes me that all hope might be lost.

I once told Wren that I would find her in the next life, and I’ve never meant anything more. I don’t know what that entails, but deep within me, I’m certain that this lifetime wasn’t our first together. And it won’t be our last. There’s something eerily familiar about being near her. Even her scent unlocks memories I can’t quite locate. Like a gentle whisper of the past to remind me that she truly is my fated mate. That no matter what, we will return to one another.

Perhaps that’s the only thing bringing me any fragment of comfort as I stare down a death sentence that seems impossible to escape.

“We’re outnumbered,” Pippa calls out from our kill circle.

“Keep fighting!” Wren shouts.

She has the ability to leave. All she has to do is mutter the word Tremont gave us. Bo and I have the same option. Neither of us will return without her. Pippa and the wendigo don’t have that luxury, and if they did, I’m certain Wren would insist they flee. She would grant freedom to any of the demons remaining in this realm if she could. Maybe then she would return to Arthlia, if she knew they would be safe from Parla’s wrath. That is not an option though, and the only way Wren will leave this wretched place is if Parla dies.

Hunters attack us from all sides, charging us at easily triple the rate. But despite their numbers, they lack the same tenacity for survival that we do. They’re mindless, where we are overcome by the need to free this realm from their unfair torment.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if our determination will be enough to see this through.

I yank at my collar, hoping there will be a weakness in its hold on me. But it’s no use, this thing is magically bound, and my hound is not here to put up a fight. Doesn’t he realize the severity of the situation? Doesn’t he see that if he remains suppressed, it might be the difference between any of us making it out of here alive?

“Come on, you bastard,” I mutter. “Where are you?” I skim my gaze across the foggy terrain and pray to the Angels that my sights will land upon Parla. If I could find her, then maybe this could end.

But instead of locating that ignorant bitch, I blink and do a double take on the man who shouldn’t be here.

A fist lands across my face, and I quickly regain my footing to snap the neck of the hunter who attacked me.

“Tremont,” I blurt out and settle my sights on him as he runs toward us, a faint transparent orb around him and the beautiful woman at his side.

Her almost white hair flows in waves around her shoulders and for the slightest second, I’m mesmerized by the strange resemblance she has to Wren. Her features are the opposite of Wren’s yet somehow similar. Wren’s rugged exterior conceals the soft lines of her femininity but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there, hidden just under the surface.

“Willow?” Wren appears at my side, her stance wide and ready for another attack. “What are you doing here?”

Willow and Tremont come into our circle, and it isn’t lost on me how Willow remains stiff at Tremont’s side. She doesn’t trust him, and I don’t blame her. From what I’ve heard of their past, I’m surprised she hasn’t already killed him just to rid him of her life.

"I came as soon as I could," Willow tells us, her eyes darting over the few of us that remain.

Other demons are fighting around us, but the numbers keep dwindling the more the hunters respawn in the arena.

“If you’re here, who’s holding the spell?” Wren narrows in on Tremont.

“Sydney,” Willow tells her. She side-eyes Tremont briefly before continuing. “I didn’t want him to be in charge of sending me in.”

Pippa and the wendigo battle the hunters and keep most of them from us as we catch up with the newcomers.

“Where’s Everest?” Tremont asks, finally breaking his silence.

“I sent him back,” Wren says. “He was in rough shape. You must have missed him.”

Willow steals a glance around us. “There’s too many of them. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

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