CHAPTER 17 #2
I barely registered anything before searing pain exploded in my jaw, snapping my head to the side. The punch was so forceful it sent dark spots dancing in my vision.
“Didn’t I warn you that every stupid move would come with punishment, luv?” Zarren sneered. “It’s your own fault.”
The agony reverberating through my jaw was so intense that it drowned out everything else. Their voices, the rain.
It struck me painfully that the defensive moves I’d learned were not enough. It would take more skill to stand a chance against monsters like these.
My fingers brushed against the exposed skin of my chest, grazing the cord of my necklace.
The location relic. Reagan.
Clutching the medallion, I rubbed it between my fingers. As the dark spots faded, panic sharpened my senses again.
“What’ve you got there, luv?” Zarren’s eyes narrowed on my clenched fist. “Let me see.”
“Get off me,” I spat, the muscles in my jaw aching from the strain.
One of them snickered as Zarren yanked my hair back, exposing my throat. “Take it,” he barked to the shorter one, who crouched beside us.
His hands pried at my fingers, while Zarren’s grip on my hair threatened more pain if I resisted. With a quick tug, the shorter one snapped the cord.
“I . . . I don’t remember which one this is,” he said.
The bald one yanked it from his grasp and studied the symbols on my necklace, his eyes widening.
“She’s got a damn location relic,” he spat.
“Get rid of it,” Zarren barked. “Three streets down. Better yet, toss it outside that bastard’s house. If it’s still there later, we sell it.”
“Ain’t got time, the bloody thing’s warm,” the bald one snapped.
“Then be damn fast about it,” Zarren sneered. “Someone could already be on their way—”
A rumbling, vicious growl echoed louder than the rain in the alley, making all three men whip their heads around. Behind us, somewhere I couldn’t see, a familiar rumble echoed, laced with the fury of a wild animal.
Relief flooded through me, my sore face splitting into a grin as I said, “Someone is.”
Another growl. Louder, closer. I’d never been more grateful to hear that fury that usually chilled me to the bone.
Zarren stood up, the crushing weight on my stomach vanished, and I sucked in a deep breath.
They stepped back, still staring behind me towards the roar of anger that I knew wasn’t for me.
“What in Godric—” Zarren started, shooting into a run with the others.
In a blur, Reagan followed them, four large paws jumping high until he clashed into the backs of Zarren and the shorter one, who slammed face-first into the ground.
He turned his brown-furred neck until the line of sharp teeth bit the bald one on his shoulder.
The man screamed in pain while the beast brought him to the ground, raging on that shoulder as the sound of a cracking bone rippled through the air.
Strained breaths and cries echoed beneath the animal’s weight as it released the shoulder and circled the fallen figures.
Reagan locked eyes with the one who had been atop me seconds ago. With a sudden lunge, he sank sharp teeth into Zarren’s thigh, drawing a loud cry from him that tore through the rain-soaked air.
The man convulsed, his mouth wide open in agony, as though he were on fire. Snarls and guttural growls echoed louder.
The sight of blood, his anguished cries, all sent a wave of nausea to my stomach, my gaze quickly averting to the ground.
There, glinting in the dim light, was my location relic. I retrieved it, clutching it tightly.
All three men remained on the ground as the beast stepped back, his fiery eyes locked onto mine, his growl fading.
“Reagan . . .” I whispered.
But he turned, lumbering toward a shuttered shop, forcing his way inside, the sound of splintering wood echoing.
I glanced back at the mages, still down and wheezing.
They whimpered weakly, their gazes flicking toward the darkened shop.
The youngest sat between the others, casting terrified glances at both the shop and his companions.
None of them dared to rise. I didn’t think Zarren could.
From inside came the sounds of tumbling objects, glass breaking, and furniture being overturned.
It took only a few moments before Reagan appeared, stepping quickly into the street. He no longer moved on four legs but walked upright, a black cloak falling over his bare chest and dark pants.
His eyes swept over me in quick, precise glances, pausing briefly on the side of my face. He turned his head back to the mages, muttering something low under his breath, too quiet for me to catch.
My eyes widened as he stopped in front of me, extending a hand to help me to my feet. I gasped low as I noticed his pupils. Dilated, with only thin rings of blue left around them.
Gently, he adjusted the sleeve of my dress, covering my shoulder again, before taking a second cloak and draping it over me. His hands moved slowly, but his nostrils flared.
Furious. He looked furious. Before I could speak, he cupped my cheek.
“Which one did this?” he asked, his voice low as he gestured to the side of my face, where there was likely a cut or a bruise.
I drew the cloak tighter around me. “I didn’t know the way back. Can we go?”
“We will,” he replied, his voice calm but deceptively sharp, like a blade hidden in silk. “Just tell me who hurt you.”
My gaze flicked toward Zarren. The man glared at us, his face twisted with disgust. Or pain.
Reagan’s eyes followed my line of sight, and I watched as he nodded. A subtle, closed-mouth grin spread across his face, charged with bitter anticipation.
“And what about that one?” he asked, his tone unnervingly cold as he nodded toward the short one, who stared at the ground.
“He didn’t do anything.”
“I’ll be quick,” he said, turning toward the men.
He stopped in front of Zarren, whose sneer twisted his face as he muttered, “Oh, I get it. Didn’t know the pet had an owner. Bet she’s keeping your bed warm enough, seeing as the Lord of Mountheim’s come sniffing after her.”
My teeth ground. He had to be completely insane if he already knew who stood before him and kept talking.
In the next second, Reagan’s fist struck Zarren’s face with brutal force, sending the man sprawling backward.
“You will apologise to her now,” Reagan commanded, his voice a frigid blade of menace. “Or I’ll have a great deal of fun bleeding you.”
My eyes darted back to him. My legs went numb.
Zarren’s expression curled into a painful grimace. “I didn’t take you for a human-lover, milord.”
Reagan snarled, grabbing the man by the cloak, his fist slamming into Zarren’s face once more. Blood mixed with spit dripped from his slack mouth. The shorter one averted his eyes, visibly shrinking.
“Perhaps I’ll do the Barrows a favour and rid this estate of worthless scum like you three,” Reagan growled.
A sickening crack followed, the sound of snapping bones. All three of them screamed. The bald one staggered back, clutching his bitten shoulder and cursing. The younger one and Zarren doubled over, gasping and wailing in pain.
Reagan had broken them all at the same time.
“Now,” he said, his voice steeped in violence, each word a promise of further suffering, “apologise to her. That’s your only chance. You have five seconds.”
He no longer looked like the discerning, canny man who had negotiated for his estate. This version of him was ruthless. I knew he would not leave them whole.
The youngest one was the first to comply. Fear etched into every line of his face, he looked between Reagan and me as he stammered, “I—I’m sorry, milady.”
Reagan’s gaze shifted to the bald man. Waiting.
The man glared at me with resentment but growled, “Apologies, milady.”
Zarren tried to sneer but descended into another violent coughing fit, each rasp rattling his frame. He collapsed forward, his hands slipping on the slick ground.
“Last chance, Scion,” Reagan said, his voice low and deadly as he fixed his eyes on the fallen mage. “Apologise to her.”
The man coughed insistently, and I finally understood what Reagan was doing. Only to him. His arms were out of his cloak, covered in blisters that bled continuously over the cobblestones.
It was the slow death Reagan would go for, and Zarren seemed to know it, too. How could he not give up his pride? Because I was human?
At last, Zarren lifted a bloody hand from the ground.
“Are you ready to say sorry?” Reagan asked low.
“Yes,” he mouthed, the sound barely audible. Zarren struggled to lift his face off the ground, but he managed to look where I stood, his skin full of blisters. “S . . . sorry.”
I couldn’t discern what I felt, only the nausea in my stomach as I watched him bleed. Maybe shock. Dismay.
“That is better,” Reagan said, his voice clipped. “But it won’t save you.”
I watched Zarren’s eyes round with panic.
A snap echoed, and I winced. A husky plea tore from the man’s mouth, as if he were trying to apologise again. The younger one shut his eyes and turned his face aside.
Another snap. He was going to kill him anyway.
I rushed forward, coming to Reagan’s side. “Stop. You don’t need to do this.”
My hand bunched in his cloak. I wasn’t doing it for the others’ benefit. I wanted him to see that.
“Reagan,” I said louder, trying to turn him toward me. “Stop.”
“He deserves this.” Reagan scowled, finally meeting my eyes. “I saw him. You can’t expect me to let him go.”
“I don’t need this. Neither do you. This will cost you,” I murmured so only he could hear it. “Self-restraint is a wise man’s trait.”
For a moment, I thought I had angered him so badly that I had made things worse. He glared at me, pressing his lips with trembling effort, the line of his jaw locked in a way that could have broken teeth. He closed his eyes and turned to the men on their knees.
A loud gasp escaped Zarren, followed by a cough, as if he were able to draw in a breath again.
“You are lucky,” Reagan snarled. “Battle mages will come for you. I hope you can make it until they arrive.”