thirty -Brynn- #2
The threat hangs in the night air, intentionally designed to spike McAllister's fear and make him careless.
I recognize the strategy. Ares is playing with his prey, just as McAllister played with me. Even if he wasn’t the one directly on my trail, I know he was always somewhere behind, waiting for his turn.
Ares continues his search, but now he relies on his hearing rather than just chasing. He shows me a faint disturbance in the undergrowth, some displaced leaves, like the trail of a clumsy animal—or a very hurried senator.
“There,” he doesn’t even whisper, he says it out loud so that if anyone is watching will hear it, then he points toward movement ahead.
It’s then that I catch a glimpse of McAllister hiding in the darkness, so different from the great hunter he was pretending to be.
The region leans into a promontory of bare rock; there’s no way down except the way we’re coming. And McAllister is heading straight for it, unaware of the dead-end. He might know these woods, but either the night or his own fear tricked him.
“Let me go around left,” I tell Ares. “Cut off his retreat. And you’ll drive him forward.”
“No,” he whispers back. “You're injured.”
“I’ll survive. Please,” I beg. I need to do this on my own. I need to be an active part of this chase, not just a shadow of Ares.
He must recognize that, because I feel his arm lowering me to the ground, letting me go but not before he makes sure I can fully stand.
Which is almost impossible for me, but I force myself not to seem weak.
He understands the soul of a warrior. He understands what watching from a distance would do to me.
I position myself behind the boulder that blocks the only path from the promontory, then signal Ares.
He emerges from the trees directly behind McAllister, not even trying to be still now. The senator turns, his eyes widening as he sees Ares, soaked in blood, stalking toward him. He runs back, moving faster toward the promontory’s edge, where he’s walking straight into our trap.
I step from behind the boulder as McAllister realizes his mistake. He freezes, caught between Ares coming from behind and me blocking his retreat. His gaze moves between us, calculating desperate options that don’t exist in reality.
He staggers back until his heels reach the promontory’s edge. Loose stones fall over the side straight into the darkness, and for a second, I see him contemplating jumping. But I won’t let him have this.
His death won’t be so easy, so I run toward him with everything I've got, with every ounce of strength I have left, and grab his jacket, throwing him away from the ridge.
He’s gonna die tonight, but not like this.
Gathering the energy to stand, I punch him as hard as I can, and I can see his eyes blinking a few times, forcing himself to recover.
He tries to hit me back, but I catch his wrist with my good hand, throwing my weight to his feet and tripping him.
The moves are impossible for my body in this condition, but somehow I don’t even feel it.
All I want is pure revenge. That’s why I hit him again and again and again without giving him time to recover until I feel Ares’ hand resting on my shoulder.
“Enough. I can’t watch you get even more hurt,” he mutters, extending a knife. “Chop him up if you want to, but no more physical effort,” he says as I realize blood is dripping all over me from my hand, from my leg, and now my fist. “But little curse… we need information first.”
“I’ll get this bastard talking,” I reply, getting off from on top of him, trying to figure out where I should cut first. I don’t know if I should even bother to tie him up because Ares will catch him if he tries the slightest thing.
Though I never considered that the second I’m up, his hands slowly go to his throat like he doesn’t have enough air, but instead of trying to recover, he snaps a locket he has around his neck and bites down on something hidden inside.
It all goes down in a second. But the change is horrific.
His body goes rigid, his spine twisting at an impossible angle, and foam bubbles at his lips, white at first, then pink as he bites his own tongue.
Cyanide.
His eyes bulge, blood vessels burst, and muscles convulse once. Ares rushes toward him, ready to check his mouth, but the poison is already in his stomach.
“We all know,” McAllister whispers the words, almost unintelligible, as his body jerks a couple of more times, his eyes roll back, as he’s living through his last moments.
I hiss while Ares roars with rage, shaking the leaves off nearby trees.
But right after he plunges his hand into McAllister’s chest, his fingers punching through his skin, muscle, and bones as he tears out his still-beating heart and shoves it in his mouth, stuffing the organ there.
“I always keep my promises,” he growls, then lets go of the corpse to fall on the wet leaves.
He turns toward me, sadness lingering in his gaze. “Maybe not just all of them…” he whispers, knowing I wasn’t the one who killed McAllister, like he promised me.
But it wasn’t his fault. McCallister had already chosen his own fate before Ares delivered the final blow. A few seconds more and he would’ve missed it completely.
I should feel satisfaction, Elias is avenged. But I don’t, I feel hollow, and the victory is bitter. Not because of McAllister, he deserved worse, but because of what he said. They know about Ares. People like him. The true monsters who walk this earth.
Ares turns to me, and I know the words linger in his mind, but he ignores them, coming to my side, moving my hand away from my shoulder to examine the wound again. “You overextended yourself. We need to get you to a doctor,” he says. His voice filled with concern.
“I’ll live,” I smile, resting against his chest as he scoops me up and starts walking back to the mansion—or at least what’s left of it—then to our car. This time, carrying me like the real damsel in distress…