Blood soaks up Logan’s shirt, getting all over me as well. Her limp body lays in my hands. Subconsciously, I hear a thud behind me from Marcus dropping her heart, and I know that the fight is still going on around me. But for me, time has stopped. There is nothing but Logan’s lifeless body and myself. No.
Something in me snaps. I gently lay Logan’s body on the ground, and push myself to my feet. I fully shift, though I don’t know it. Not a single thought runs through my brain: only emotions. I turn around, my eyes locking on Marcus as he picks up Tiffany’s unconscious body from the ground.
I move forward and someone grabs my shoulder. One of the men that was holding Logan. I look over and see that John is dead on the ground. Cecilia and Roman both hold their ground, though Alyssa looks like she’s fighting a losing battle. I don’t even know the name of the man holding me back, and I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned he’s nothing but an obstacle in my way.
Faster than either of us can see, my hand moves at lightening speed and grabs his heart, yanking it out. I drop it and let his body fall to the ground, then go after Marcus with nothing hindering me.
Grabbing his hair and pulling his head backward, I run my claws deep into his throat. Blood squirts all over the place: on Tiffany, my hands, Marcus. He drops Tiffany and spins around, grabbing my throat before I can stop him. He lifts me up and I watch as his neck heals and his eyes turn red.
He chucks me and I tumble across the ground several times, landing oddly on my arm. A dull pain radiates from it and I stare as it’s broken form pops back into place and heals. It barely affects me.
“Stop, Julia,” Marcus commands as I get up. I don't stop. Focused on him–it’s just him and me now in my mind–I let out a roar. It’s so loud it shakes the ground a little, and I run toward him. For the shortest of seconds, I swear I see a hint of fear showing on his face.
I slash at his throat, but he has much more experience fighting and he’s much stronger than me. He sidesteps and sinks his claws deep into my side, causing blood to splatter. Pain erupts in my side, but I ignore it and tackle him, blinded by rage.
I’m ready to tear his throat out with my claws as I’m on top of him, but he has my wrists in his hands and is holding them at a distance. My hands shake, straining from the effort to get to him. For a moment, we’re evenly matched, even though he’s supposed to be much stronger than me. But if someone kills a loved one if front of someone else, they are undoubtedly going to have enough rage and adrenaline to kill someone twenty times stronger than they are. And I am what one would call enraged.
My hands manage to reach his throat and I latch on, choking him. He sinks both sets of claws into my upper arms, but I grit my teeth and continue to hold on. I unwillingly let out a whimper from the agony residing in my arms, though Marcus doesn’t look too good himself: his eyes start to bulge, their red color boring into mine. His face is turning a deep shade of red and out of pure desperation, he kicks out at me with his feet. Unfortunately, he somehow manages to get them underneath me, and throws me off.
The breath is knocked out of me, and before I realize what’s happening, Marcus is on top of me, pinning my arms underneath his legs and clawing at my face. I scream from the affliction, and blood runs into my eyes and mouth, choking me. It feels like an eternity there, though it may only be twenty seconds. However, twenty seconds can do a lot of damage.
After mutilating my face, I’m pretty sure he’s lost all sense of rational thought. He sinks his teeth into my shoulder and rips out a piece of flesh. My scream raises into an unrecognizable sound. He rips into my chest and stomach with his claws, and by some means, I get my arms free. I flair desperately at his face with my claws, but as the agony grows, my strength shrinks, and my arms begin to slow.
Please, make it stop! I scream internally. Make it stop, make it stop! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!
Out of all I’ve been through: all the car wrecks, all the fights, all the times in the hospital, I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to death.
I begin to think that it’s all over, he’ll kill me and I won’t have to know what else happened here. And I’m ready for it. I’m ready to die, I’m ready to give up and let go. I want him to finish me.
Or so I thought.
Some part of me must still be hanging on for dear life, for my head shoots forward and I bite as deep and hard into his shoulder as I can. He screams, and his hands go up to grab his shoulder. I can’t do anything else; I’m too weak. I figure he’s going to finish me off now, blinded by rage, but the pain must do something for him. Something seems to pass over his eyes and he stops, getting off me. I’m so weak that I can’t get up. I use the last of my strength to roll onto my side and reveal the scene unfolding before me to myself.
John, the man I killed, and Logan all lay dead on the ground, along with Z and Tiffany who are unconscious. Cecilia has won her fight with the man she had grabbed, and he lays on the ground dead as well now. She helps Alyssa fight Lorraine, but Lorraine seems to be doing well fighting the two of them together. She’s very strong, and they don’t seem to be faring too well. Luke and Roman are a fair match, though Roman appears to be wearing down. Sarah is frozen in place, her eyes wide, and I don’t think she’s moved or even breathed since this started.
The body count is piling up, and I know if something doesn’t happen soon, my side will be on that list, too. We’re losing. And I can’t move.
My eyes fall on Logan’s body on the ground. I failed. Everything I came here to do? I failed at every. Single. One of them. John is dead. Logan is dead. We’ll all be dead if I don’t do something.
All of the feelings I have running through me right now: all of the fear, anguish, rage, agony, sorrow, and desperation I feel, forms a ball in my throat and I have to get it out. So I do the last thing I’m capable of doing.
It doesn’t come out like I expected though. Not a normal roar. It comes out so high-pitched, I can see blood running from Marcus’s ears. You can almost . . . see the sound waves coming from my mouth. Like–like a sonic scream. Whatever it is, it does the job. Everyone stops what they’re doing to hold their ears. The ground shakes from my roar-scream. By the time I stop, I’ve brought Marcus to a knee, dazed and clutching his ears.
I have nothing left, yet I find something deep inside me that pushes me off the ground. I’m pretty sure that my eyes are no longer green: they’re yellow. I’ve undoubtedly moved up on the werewolf ranking system. And I’m about to move up again.
I stand. My legs bring me to where Marcus is kneeling, and I have the attention of everyone in the clearing. My shirt is practically torn to shreds, barely hanging on by a few threads. There’s blood all over me. My face, hair, chest, stomach, arms, and hands are so buried underneath the blood that you can’t even see my skin. Blood has run down onto my legs and feet as well. I’m drenched in it. The only other times I’ve had this much liquid on my body is when I was showering or swimming.
I grab Marcus’s throat and pull him to his feet.
“I told you I would kill you. You didn’t listen.”
With that, I sink my claws into his chest, a look of shock and fear written across his face. My claws sink in like a knife slicing butter. I can feel his body trying to heal around it.
Is this how it felt when he killed Logan?
My hand searched out his heart, finds it, and I feel it beating rapidly into my hand. I pull back, bringing his heart with me. It beats once more, then stops completely. The light fades from Marcus’s eyes and I release his throat. His body hits the ground with a thud.
Heart still in hand, I turn and face the stares. Something about that felt so . . . good. I want to do it again. I want to rip every single one of these people to shreds, make them feel what I feel, make somebody pay. Somebody has to pay, and I have too much built-up fury to stop now.
I drop Marcus’s heart and roar at the top of my lungs. Somebody is going to pay.