Luca's POV again
I cried out as I felt fangs sink into my neck and tried to fight back hopelessly. Whoever was pinning me wasn't going to be moved. I started to feel faint and wondered if this person was going to kill me. Then they shoved me away and stood up. I sat up slowly, blinking at what I was seeing. Francis, and he looked like hell. His brown hair hair was matted with dried blood. His clothes more like rags that covered most of his form. I could see various cuts and wounds, some of which were now healing. There was an almost feral light to his blue eyes.
“What happened to you?” I asked. Wrong question. He narrowed his eyes at me and yanked me up by my collar swiftly, smashing me against the nearest wall. The force of it jarred my body and make the wound on the back of my head yell out.
“What happened? Don't you fucking remember mutt?” he asked, a scary fire burning in his eyes. I couldn't fight back, my body was weak from blood loss and he knew it. If I shifted I might restore myself a little, but that would probably just aggravate the situation. He dropped me and I collided with the concrete floor. Hard. I managed to throw out my arms and winced, knowing they'd be scrapes on them.
“You're the one who didn't have enough brain cells to back off,” I muttered to myself. I had the foresight to roll away before the kick could connect. He glared down at me, but he didn't move to attack me again. Which made no sense, considering he looked more than ready to kill me. I used a nearby shelf to pull myself up and panted a little at the effort, feeling vertigo grip me.
“This is all your fault,” he muttered, pacing in a jerky fashion, his fists closing and opening. He was making me more nervous than ever. I'd encountered Francis a lot, but never like this. He looked ready to snap at any second.
“Why are you hiding here?” I asked. He shot me a look and I snapped my mouth shut. He stepped closer and I braced myself for another attack.
“Because of you,” he muttered, crossing his arms. I blinked, confused.
“This place is nowhere near the club,” I said.
“Well done,” he grunted, stepping away. He seemed a little calmer now. Most of his cuts had healed, but not some of the deeper ones. Was that why he'd bitten me? Why didn't William say my blood would help him heal? I shuddered and shoved the idea away. Actually it was probably a good thing he didn't tell me. I doubt our friendship would've lasted long if being bitten came into it.
“Want to tell me what happened after …” I trailed off, not really wanting to voice what happened to me.
“You mean after you went batshit crazy and William turned up?” he finished, sneering at me. I jumped at the wording a little, before giving a stubborn nod. He gave a dry laugh, still pacing. I noticed how he was careful to avoid the splashes of sunlight from the one uncovered window. “I went to Gregory, figured he'd help me out,” he shrugged. “Instead he saw a perfect opportunity to mess up the treaty and tried to finish me off.” My eyes widened and my grip on the railing tightened. No wonder Francis looked so crappy.
“Well, can't say you don't deserve it,” I muttered. Francis twisted round, arrowing a glare my way. I held up a palm in surrender before he decided to attack. I didn't think my body could take it. There was a steady trickle from the back of my head and I really wanted to shift again.
“Heal yourself,” Francis snorted. “Before you pass out.” I did very quickly. I wasn't about to strip in front of him, so the result was a shredded shirt and ripped jeans.
“Other than those two fights in the club, what did I ever do to deserve it?” he asked, using air quotations when he echoed my words. I blinked at him, letting out a laugh.
“Are you seriously asking that question?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied tersely.
“Other than beating the crap out of me, you also threatened my best friend and her family. Kidnapping her mother and little brothers. All so you could try and fight my bother,” I muttered. Francis blinked at me then, looking completely thrown.