Vesta curled herself into a ball as her life blood pooled onto the carpeted floor.
"Stupid bitch!" She gasped, pounding a fist on the floor as pain gripped her in a hold of death.
She couldn't hear anything except her own heart pounding in her ears. The witch reached up to the place where the dagger had entered her flesh, fingering the bloody hole tenderly.
Black spots danced before her eyes, her vision slowly fading.
"Please! Please don't let me die," She cried, tears falling down her thin white face. For the first time in a long time, Vesta was truly scared. She shouldn't have toyed with Zade. She should've known better.
A werewolf was one of the most dangerous of supernatural beings. And Vesta had dared to make one angry.
She closed her eyes in defeat, the dark slowly closing over her. Then strong arms lifted her, carrying her. It was Zade.
"Why are you saving me, lycan?" She murmured.
But she was not given a reply.
Zade found that the witch had passed out, asleep and dying in his arms.