Chapter 39 Zack
Chapter thirty-nine
Zack
My breath comes in sharp heaves as I punch over and over.
An ache roars in my head from where an alpha hit me when Ri-ckon snapped loose from the bond.
My heartbeat races, but the fear fades as Red surges within, full of confidence and peace.
She wouldn’t function if something bad happened to White Mine.
No, this is her way of telling me to do what I must.
I chuckle and duck under an incoming tackle, throwing the stranger into two more attackers.
Sweat runs down my spine, and as my fist connects with another man’s jaw, it skids, slippery with blood.
I spin, driving my other hand into the alpha’s gut.
He grunts and staggers, and I follow it up with a low kick.
Fleshy resistance gives way as his bones splinter.
My rage demands I finish him, but I whip around, shouldering another alpha to the side as I drive toward that black scent stained with my ohm-ga’s suffering.
With every laborious step, less alphas stand in my way.
As my cellmate promised, some men hung back, unsure about supporting Ray, but many still rushed to obey him.
A challenge flares behind me, but when I turn, Al surges into place, forcing the man’s head down onto his knee with a vicious crack. He gives me a sharp nod before turning to take on another.
Two alphas jump into my path, blocking my view of Ray.
Both men loom over me, big and radiating danger.
One of them threatened Al back when I first came to prison.
My alpha senses blare with warning, but I lunge ahead regardless.
I cannot stop now, because the guards will arrive any second with their sharp, pinging weapons.
And, as Al said, I only have one chance.
A dark blur flies in and attaches itself to the alpha on the right. Owen, smelling of bitter salad leaves, wraps his arms around the big man’s throat and locks his legs around his belly. Perhaps he’s not such a coward.
I hook my arm back and swing at the other alpha, searching for an opportunity. He lifts his arms, blocking me, and I feel the bunch of powerful muscles beneath his skin. This one does floor exercises too.
“You’re dead, feral,” he rasps, a savage look in his eye.
I ignore him and swing again. My hands ache as if they’re hitting a concrete wall. The heat blazing inside me saps my strength, like I’ve been fighting for hours.
More, more. I must find the energy from inside the fight rings, when death was the only answer.
The big alpha lunges forward. My brain registers, but my body responds a second too late, and his fist slams into my ribs. Pain echoes through me, but I lock it away like an alpha in a cell.
“Fight,” I whisper to myself. Fight like death is on the line. No, more than that. Fight to protect my ohm-ga. A powerful urge flickers to life, more potent than any I’ve felt before.
The alpha steps back, grinning as I hunch awkwardly to protect my bruised side. “Is that all you’ve got?” he says. “Not really living up to the feral name.”
A breeze caresses my face, full of chilly moisture. Rain’s coming.
I draw a deep breath and straighten. Dozens of fights brought me to this moment.
Movements, defenses, blows that ended alphas’ stories.
I punch out, arms moving in a blur, faster and faster.
The alpha grunts, forced back a step. Ribs, calf, face, calf, spleen, calf.
I drive into him, weakening his stance with each blow.
He stumbles back, putting space between us. Within reach.
One step and my leg scissors out and up. Higher, higher I reach, beyond the height of Al’s pillowed hands, and right into the fucker’s jaw. He gurgles and drops, body folding up like a towel.
Behind him stands the alpha I want.
Ray glares at me, but the first flicker of sour fear leaks into his scent. As I stride forward, he turns and runs for the doorway, shouting for the guards.
Five seconds is all I have to avenge my omega. I’ll make sure it’s enough.
I leap forward, hand closing on the back of his collar. Ray whirls, punching desperately. He’s solid, and full of alpha challenge, but for a man who’s brought so much chaos to our lives, he feels oddly lightweight.
Five.
Muscles screaming, I hurl him toward the blind spot. Ray arcs through the air, his arms splaying wide as he slams into the concrete wall.
Four.
As I draw my fist back, Rickon’s voice whispers behind my raging thoughts. Don’t kill. I’m not sure that order applies to this worm flailing in my grip, but I want to please my magical mate. Lucky I know ways to end a life that don’t stop their breathing.
Three.
Holding Ray at arm’s length, I touch one bloodied finger to the spot on his throat where the death alpha had his scar.
I clench my hand and slam into the mark, not hard enough to break the neck behind, but enough that the fleshy cords beneath the skin collapse.
The alpha spasms with pain and spins, clutching at the wall and trying to slide away.
Two.
I lift my leg, bending at the knee, and furl it out squarely in the middle of his back. Bone shatters and his legs give way.
Stinging rain beats down on my shoulders as guards pour out through the doorway. The air mists, steaming with our body heat. I fall on top of Ray, pounding my strongest blows down onto his limbs.
One.
Use it when you’re in the blind spot.
I dive my hand into my pocket and drag out Al’s spike, rolling Ray over with one rough shove.
He put his filthy cock into a place I enter with great awe, a place that he should’ve never even glimpsed.
He must never use that body part again. I tighten my grip on the shiv and plunge it down between his legs.
Blood wells up, staining the wood and the alpha’s orange pants. It’s not enough. I haul back and strike again, hacking with the sharp point.
Zero.
“Enough, Zack,” Al hisses. “You did good.”
“Not enough.” I slash at the limp alpha’s head, slicing right through his good ear.
Al grips my hand, forcing my fingers off the piece of wood and wrapping a bloodstained cloth strip where my hand was. He hauls me backward.
I stagger, trying to get my feet under me, blind to everything but the blood burning my fingers as he drags me between alphas and throws me on the ground. A moment later he falls over my legs, groaning from a guard’s stinging shot.
The rain muffles the guards’ shouts and the cries of fallen alphas. Droplets run down my arms, washing the blood clean. Pale pink puddles crisscross the yard as every prisoner drops flat on the ground.
“Fuck,” Al hisses beside me. “You really did it. I wasn’t certain you could, but that was a thing of beauty.” He swivels his head toward me, mud streaking his cheek. His brow furrows. “Why are you laughing?”
I grin, closing my eyes and enjoying the raindrops cleaning my cheeks. “It rains when my alpha cries. My pack worry for me.”
“What a crock of—” Al snaps his mouth shut and sighs. “You know what? You’re probably right. At this point, I’d believe you and your pack could do anything.”
“Silence, you maggots!” the closest guard roars.
I watch through the thickening rain as a guard finds Ray’s shattered body and dry heaves into his fist. He kneels and presses his finger to Ray’s neck before shouting, “Get the doctor.”
Al snickers, cutting off sharply when a guard kicks him.
I let my heavy lids slide shut as the rain soaks me, weights settling on my whole body.
I used to be afraid of alphas ganging up on me.
Once upon a time, it sent me scuttling into corners to protect my back or running for exits.
But today I stood and gave the fight of my life.
And I had others to protect my back. Not pack, but something close.
A commotion breaks loose over by the doorway, and the guard steps away.
“Al,” I slur out, feeling weaker than the day he broke my arm. “What you call me before? When you put stick in my hand?”
“Shh,” he hisses. “Never mention that again. You hear me?”
I nod, collecting a fresh layer of mud in my hair, but my question remains.
“I called you my psycho friend.”
Psycho carries the same sound as all his other insults. I ignore that one. “Friend. Is that people who aren’t pack?”
“Yes, but people you still want to spend time with.”
I chuckle. That’s the word. I have both pack and friends, plus one person who straddles the line between both.
“Stop smiling,” Al demands. “You look like you’ve fucking lost your mind.”
“No. Think I just found it.”
A guard hauls me to my feet, and I hiss as my injuries flare. I didn’t escape without pain, but somehow these bruises feel more welcome than any I received before. Because this is the first time I chose to fight on my own terms. I made a plan. I calculated.
The guard locks my hands in cuffs and shoves me into a line forming against the wall. We’re the alphas who can stand; the rest writhe on the ground while pouring blood. The grass will drink well today.
“What a fucking nightmare!” the guard growls, shoving me. My shoulder hits the wall hard, sending fresh shocks through my bones. “I wish you’d never come to our prison, feral.”
I catch his gaze and hold it. “Self-defense,” I tell him simply.
He snorts. “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say.” He turns to another guard. “Get these bastards inside!”
As I stumble after the alpha in front of me, I catch sight of Owen on the ground, curled around his leg.
His ankle swells like someone shoved a ball inside, and the skin glows with a pretty sunset color.
I catch his gaze and nod, and then, on an impulse, I throw my head back and howl like we did every time an alpha returned to the cells after a challenge.
Bloodied and cracked, but still breathing.
The alphas around me shout, and the guards holler in rage.
It’s beautiful—even more so because it might be my last ever battle. My revenge is done, and now I get to live my life. A real life.
My pack is waiting for me. Their love sings right into my soul—faint, but truthful. All that remains is to discover on which side of the friend/pack line Cal-ee will fall.
I can’t wait.