Chapter 23 #2
“Y-you’re not t-taking me back there, are you?” I forced out shakily.
Manshu stopped, then laughed. The sound rolled out, low and cruel, while his claws dug deeper just to hear me grunt.
“You know what?” he mused. “That’s actually a great idea.” His mouth brushed my ear. “No one’ll hear you scream over the crowd.”
“W-what about the race?”
His body tensed behind me. “Fuck the race,” he snarled. Then quieter, more to himself, he said, “There’ll be others.”
Not for you, I thought, but I kept that part to myself. Perfect. He was taking the bait.
He shoved through the back door and flung me hard across the concrete floor.
I instinctively curled up the second I landed, my arms wrapping around my stomach.
Old human instincts. Protect the wound. Protect yourself.
But even as I curled inward, I could already feel it happening.
The flesh around the holes had begun knitting itself together.
I lifted my shirt, staring in horrified fascination as my body repaired itself right in front of me, until a shadow swallowed the view.
“Yes, Olivia,” Manshu drawled.
I looked up just as his hand came down. Fast. Too fast.
I barely managed to throw myself sideways before his fist smashed into the concrete where my head had been.
Crack.
Chunks of cement exploded outward, and my breath caught as I stared at the crater. That would’ve shattered my skull.
My cheek still throbbed from being clipped by the hit, heat blooming across my face while ringing filled my ears.
Move. Move, Olivia.
I bolted. Speed carried me around the open underground space in wild zigzags as I bounced off walls, sharply changing direction every few seconds.
Not attacking, just stalling, giving myself enough time to heal. To survive until they came. Every instinct I had screamed for me to keep moving.
Once the sting in my cheek faded and the tightness in my throat finally loosened, I slowed to a stop and whipped around, searching the shadows for that asshole.
Nothing. No movement. No sound.
My eyes cut across every dark corner of the underground space, sharper now than they had ever been. Night wrapped around everything in crisp detail. I could make out cracks in the concrete walls, rust along pipes, and oil stains smeared across the floor, but still no sign of Manshu.
“Come on!” My voice cracked through the empty space, louder and cockier than I actually felt. “Don’t hide like a little bitch!”
Silence answered me until I heard a flapping sound slice through the air above me. I looked up just as Manshu dropped from the rafters, his hand shooting forward.
Agony exploded through my throat.
I choked on the scream as those long black nails punched clean through my neck. My body seized instantly. Air wouldn’t come.
“That should keep your mouth shut,” Manshu purred, watching me claw uselessly at his arm. His grin stretched wider as blood spilled down my chest in warm streams.
“Now,” he said softly, almost lovingly, “I’m gonna teach you what happens when you stop acting like a good girl.”
Fabric ripped, and the sound echoed embarrassingly loudly as he tore down the front of my shirt. I swung at him, but nothing connected. I tried kicking with my legs again, but still, nothing.
His arms were too long, so that every time I tried to hit him, he leaned back just out of reach while laughter spilled from his mouth.
“This is gonna hurt, Olivia,” he mocked. “But you’ll live.” His nails twisted in my throat, and my knees buckled. “That’s what matters, right?”
Dread and fear tried to clog up my mind, telling me this was the end, but I refused to go down this way, so I shoved those feelings aside. I was a supe. I could handle anything. I would survive anything he could put me through. It would be okay.
The second I find an opening, I’ll get away. I’ll run just like Calix told me.
A savage, brutal roar filled the space, and both our heads snapped sideways to see who it was. All I saw was a blur and a flash of ash-white hair before relief crashed through me so hard my legs nearly gave out.
He came.
Manshu vanished off me so fast it looked unnatural. One second, he was there. The next, he was ripped away violently enough that blood sprayed across the floor.
Warm arms wrapped around me immediately. The familiar scent of soft leather and redwood engulfed me. Rack.
Those silver-flecked purple eyes frantically darted across my face, my throat, my chest, searching for damage faster than he could speak.
“I got you,” he breathed, his voice cracking at the edges. “I got you, Olivia. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I lifted a trembling hand to his face. His skin was warm. Real.
“I knew you’d come,” I rasped.
The holes in my throat stitched themselves closed as I spoke. My ruined voice was scraping and raw, but I didn't care. They were here. I was going to be okay.
Rack leaned into my palm for the briefest second, eyes squeezing shut like he needed the contact as badly as I did.
Behind us came the wet crunch of bone breaking. Again.
And again.
And again.
The sounds echoed brutally through the underground space. Punches. Screams. Concrete cracking. Wet sounds splattering each second.
I flinched as a gunshot sounded, followed by a sizzle. I tried to crane my head around, to see if anything happened to Calix, but Rack just said, “Shhh, Calix is fine.”
Then metal loudly scraped across the floor, and my eyes snapped toward the noise. A gun with that same unnatural shimmer slid to a stop near Rack’s feet.
“S-stop!” Manshu shrieked. Gone was the smug predator from before. His clothes were bloody and torn, half his face was caving in, and both legs were broken in odd directions.
“P-please! Fuck—please s-stop!”
Calix didn’t. He was on top of him like a force of nature. Fists slammed downward, hit after hit. Blood sprayed with every impact.
Manshu’s head snapped violently against the concrete each time Calix hit him. Teeth skidded across the floor. Wet choking noises bubbled from his ruined mouth while blood poured down his neck.
Rack’s arm tightened around my waist. He took one step forward before looking at me and taking a step back. His jaw flexed hard, but he stayed silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Calix,” I called.
Nothing. His fist came down again and again.
“Calix!”
That finally reached him. The next punch stopped mid-air, and when he slowly turned his head toward me, my breath caught.
The man staring back at me didn’t look like the teasing, lazy prince I’d come to know. This was something else. Something violent and beastly that ran off emotions instead of logic.
Blood drenched him from throat to boots, streaking his pale skin crimson. His fangs were fully out, lips curled back, and blood dripped from his chin.
But his eyes—God. His eyes looked haunted, like his rage had hollowed him out from the inside and left only the monster standing.
This was who everyone was afraid of when he walked into the room. This was the beast that laid beneath his skin, the one he kept under control. I knew the average person would be terrified, yet all I wanted to do was soothe him.
I reached toward him slowly.
“Calix,” I said, softer this time. “You can’t.”
His chest heaved once. A low growl of protest left his mouth, but when I raised an eyebrow, he let Manshu fall from his grip. The broken body crumpled heavily onto the floor.
The second Manshu tried to crawl away, Rack lazily lifted one hand. Air snapped tight around Manshu’s limbs. He cried out in agony as his body violently jerked upward, limbs spread wide as he was helplessly suspended in the air.
The crowd above us erupted somewhere in the distance as engines screamed across the finish line overhead. The ground trembled beneath our feet, but I barely heard any of it.
Calix approached me carefully and stopped directly in front of me, inhaling deeply. Again and again. His nose brushed my hair, my throat, my shoulders. Checking. Making sure I was whole.
I gently rested my hand against his chest. His heartbeat hammered violently beneath my palm.
“We can’t kill him yet,” I whispered. “We need the information first. And for that, we need you to be calm.”
Calix shut his eyes, and one ragged breath tore through him, then another. His shoulders loosened little by little as he fought himself back under control.
One bloody hand dragged through his white hair, leaving red streaks behind, before he finally looked at me again.
The familiar spark returned faintly to his eyes, not fully but enough that warmth spread through my chest. Despite everything, I smiled.
“Welcome back, handsome prince.”